Disclaimer: I don't own anything.. *sob* O well... it all belongs to Master Tolkien.
Summary: What happens to make a young Frodo's life turn upside down. (I'm no good at summaries)
Author's Note: Ok, I have done enough research to find my dates are correct. Of course I made up it being Sept 23rd but, I just wanted to. But Frodo actually was 21 when all this happened. A tweenager if you will. This takes place in the year 2989. Although I'm not sure of where the Baggins' live, so I made that up. And I know this isn't what happened...there are many rumors... Drogo was staying with relatives in Brandy Hall, and Frodo was raised there. all this I know.. but I'm allowed to write, Eh? lmao, Please r/r!!!!
Alone
It was September 23 and the sun was shining warmly down on Drogo Baggins' family. They had only just reached Buckland, where most of their cousins lived, and were having a small picnic. Well, small compared to hobbit standards.
"Did you get the raspberry tarts and peach preserves? And the pickled eggs, wheat bran, and grain bread?" Primula asked.
Drogo thought a moment and then opened the bag and pulled them out.
"Aha! I knew it!" He smiles and looks around for his son. "Frodo! Where are you lad?"
Not as soon as he had called for him had his son poked his small head of curls around from a nearby tree. Far too curious for a hobbit. Bilbo had said Gandalf, the old wizard that usually brought fireworks and many other peculiarities and his share of disturbances of the peace with him when he came to Hobbiton, had called him once. Drogo thought this very true of his own son. Although only just a tweenager. He had just turned twenty-one a day before.
"Come on and eat, so by the time we are done, we can go for that ride we have been waiting for!" Primula said, smiling at her son.
Frodo was herded over by Drogo, and they sat and ate. Once finished they set out for Violet Bracegirdle's hobbit-hole. She was a distant cousin of theirs somehow and generously offered her home as a staying point for them while they visited. They cleaned up, and then filed out the door. Violet caught Frodo's sleeve. He turned, his large blue eyes widened in slight surprise. Violet smiled and pulled him into a tight hug.
"Have fun. And make sure none of you are wet when you come in this house. Or I'll have your hide if you wet this hole up, so help me!" She said jokingly, her soft brown eyes happily shining.
Frodo laughed easily. "Of course Ms. Violet. We have a boat of course! See you soon!" He called as he ran off to catch up, waving.
Violet smiles as they go off, but her stomach churns slightly, uneasily, for some unknown reason. She sighs and goes back into her home, and rummages around the kitchen for something to clean. Finally, Drogo, Frodo and Primula get to their final destination. They were to take a boat on Brandywine River. It was going to be just the three of them by moonlight. Something special for Frodo's birthday (although it was the day before really). They get into the boat and set off, ready to be back in a short time. Frodo laughs shortly, enjoying the rowing, but soon all things change. The boat rocked violently on its keel, the equilibrium shattering and finally capsizing the boat. Hobbits can't swim so most stay away from water, but only a rare few can swim. Unfortunately, Primula, Drogo and Frodo are not any of those lucky hobbits.
"PRIMULA! FRODO!" Drogo screamed, earning himself a long swallow of river water.
He gagged, coughed and sputtered it up. He never received a reply from his wife. Or he never heard it, for he had already drowned.
"D--Drogo!" Primula finally managed, floundering through the Brandywine's currents. She caught a glance of her son's prostrate form washing onto the shore. Oh, by the Valar, please let him live! Please! She cried out in her mind. But, before she could think a last thought, an undertow in the currents wrapped around her ankles and towed her with it. She drowned before she was submerged totally. She and swallowed too much water and her heart gave out when she saw Frodo washing up on shore. A nearby farmer, rocking on his rocking chair on his porch happened to be outside that very night, and heard Drogo's scream muffled about a little under a third of a mile away. Amazing how quiet it was then in Buckland. He ran to the river side, torch lit only to find a capsized boat and a young hobbit lad washed up on the shore. He bent down next to him immediately.
"Oh, come around young lad! Come around now!" He said anxiously, supporting the young hobbit up and beating firmly but softly on his back. With a gag, a long spew of river water is projected from his mouth, and Frodo moans.
"Where...Mom...Dad...Why?" He murmured, unsure of anything, chills now setting in with his rapidly dizzying mind.
"Shhsh now lad, I'll get you some blankets. Come along now." The farmer said, carrying the hobbit all the way to his hobbit hole. Once there, he wraps him in blankets and gets him a mug of warm broth.
"Now, where do you live?" He asked the tween, watching him closely, to make sure if he gets sick to get him to the bathroom.
Frodo sipped some of the broth, head clearing slightly. "Hmm? oh.. I er, live in Crickhollow, but I'm here visiting relatives with my parents...Where are they?" He asked, looking around, blinking his blurry blue eyes, hoping his vision would clear.
The farmer looked at his bare feet. He couldn't bring himself to tell the lad. He did not answer. "Where are you staying?" He asked instead.
It was a good thing Frodo was felling ill and still having the chills, or he would have pestered the poor farmer until his answer was reached. Just tween behavior. "Oh.. um... Violet....Bracegirdle. That's her name."
The farmer nodded and helped the lad to his feet. " Come now, I'll be getting you back to yer...cousin? Aunt?" He asked, making their way out o the doorway.
"Yes..." Frodo murmured, shuddering violently. He hacked a horrid sounding cough.
The farmer helped him stay standing, then led him to the side of the road where he became sick. Once through vomiting, Frodo's knees felt weak and his stomach raw. His head was clogged feeling and stuffy. He could barely see straight. He shut his eyes.
"I don't think.." He began, but couldn't finish. His knees became unhinged and the farmer caught him easily enough. The lad wasn't as big as normal hobbits his age.
A little under an hour later, the farmer knocked on Violet Bracegirdle's door. She opened the door in her old cotton night gown, brown eyes terrified.
"Erm, lady, I believe this is your.." But he wasn't allowed to finish. Violet swept Frodo into her arms and brought him in the house. The farmer followed.
Violet set him up in a room. Once tucked in many blankets, Frodo's chills became less severe and Violet turned to the farmer.
"I don't know how I can ever repay you for bringing Frodo back safely ...enough. Whatever can I do?" She asked sincerely.
The farmer hung his head. "You can break the news to him. I can't bring myself to do it."
"The news?" Violet asked, not understanding.
"The lad's parents.. they.. I mean, I found him and.. Well, he was alone, but I.." The farmer tried to say, but couldn't seem to get it out right. Violet understood it well enough.
"Oh! O no, no, no, no, no." She said horrified.
"I'm afraid so.. I just couldn't tell him when he asked me 'bout them." He said softly.
Tears coursed down Violet's pretty face. "Alright. Thank you again.. I am always in you debt..." She said, and went up to him. She kissed his forehead.
Once the farmer had left, she sent her neighbor, Azaelia Bolger's husband to fetch one Mister Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, Hobbiton. He arrived two days later. Wiry brows furrowed, he came into Frodo's room, to find Violet wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. The lad was shaking all over. He hacked another cough.
"..And Primula and Drogo?" Bilbo asked her after a while of talking.
"Both dead Mister Bilbo." She answered in a tiny voice. "Do you know who can take him? He's an orphan and I know he needs a home. He's only a tweenager..."
"Why not you, Violet?" Bilbo asked, not too thrilled with asking her, but thinking it polite to do so.
Her eyes widened in horror. "Me, sir? O why no, I'm not much older 'en he is. And I am single... I don't honestly think I could raise him right as he deserves.." She said, a slight flush creeping up onto her neck and cheeks.
Bilbo smiled and patted her hand. "There, there. No worries. I'll take the lad. He is after all one of my favorite cousins...." He said, voice trailing off.
"Uncle Bilbo?" Came a tiny, muffled voice from the pile of shivering covers.
Bilbo looked in alarm at the you tween. "Yes, lad? What's wrong, you need anything?" He asked, gently.
The lad shook his head. "Where am I going? I mean...Violet said... and I... I mean... My.." He tried to speak, but just dissolved into tears.
Bilbo went over and gathered him into his arms. "Shhhhsh...there, there my boy." He crooned. "You'll be right. I'm taking you with me. We will live in Bag End, and you will be just fine....Just need you to get better. Violet, do you mind if I stay until Frodo is well enough to travel?" He asked.
Violet smiled, wiping her eyes. "Of course.." She then leaves the lad and his cousin be.
----------------------------------------------
No less then two days later, Frodo was still suffering from pneumonia. And there was a rapping on the door. Violet went to answer it. But to her surprise, she found Bilbo there already.
"What do you want Lobelia?" He asked coldly.
The female hobbit wrinkled her nose as if she hated the sight of Bilbo himself.
"Well, I heard you have yourself an heir now... Is this all true?" She asked poisonously.
Bilbo nodded. "Yes, that means you have one less thing to worry about..." But he was interrupted.
"And exactly WHO is this heir?" She asked with a hiss.
"Frodo Baggins.. he just lost his parents, and I am taking him in.." Once more, interrupted.
"You mean that.. that.. BRANDYBUCK! Your joking right Bilbo old dear." She hissed venomously.
"No, I'm not joking Lobelia. Now, good bye." And with that he shut the door. This raised a shriek of indignity from Lobelia from outside the doorframe.
He turned to find Violet standing there, frozen in place.
"Whatever is the matter?" He asked good naturedly.
She jumped. "Oh, nothing...Just that, that Lobelia.. She is horrid isn't she?" She said slowly.
Bilbo sighed and nodded. "Yes, very. How is Frodo?"
"Very well. He is very strong and should kick this any time soon."
"Good. Good."
Ad with that Bilbo went in and sat in the chair by Frodo's bedside. Frodo's eyes flickered open. Their sad blue depths focused on Bilbo and lit up immediately.
"Bilbo!" He croaked. "Can.." He coughed once more. "Could I hear a story of yours?" He asked gingerly.
Bilbo smiled and nodded. He ran his hand through the lads mop of brown curls, wet with sweat. "Alright.. well, how about this one...
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where Many paths and errands meet.
And whither then.. I cannot say....
~*Authors Note: Well, tada!!! I just whipped this together on short notice cuz I was bored again. Well, I hoe you liked...The poem is Tolkien's. of course.. all I own is the farmer, Violet Bracegirdle, and Azaelia's husband. lmao. Namarie, The Renewer. *~
Summary: What happens to make a young Frodo's life turn upside down. (I'm no good at summaries)
Author's Note: Ok, I have done enough research to find my dates are correct. Of course I made up it being Sept 23rd but, I just wanted to. But Frodo actually was 21 when all this happened. A tweenager if you will. This takes place in the year 2989. Although I'm not sure of where the Baggins' live, so I made that up. And I know this isn't what happened...there are many rumors... Drogo was staying with relatives in Brandy Hall, and Frodo was raised there. all this I know.. but I'm allowed to write, Eh? lmao, Please r/r!!!!
Alone
It was September 23 and the sun was shining warmly down on Drogo Baggins' family. They had only just reached Buckland, where most of their cousins lived, and were having a small picnic. Well, small compared to hobbit standards.
"Did you get the raspberry tarts and peach preserves? And the pickled eggs, wheat bran, and grain bread?" Primula asked.
Drogo thought a moment and then opened the bag and pulled them out.
"Aha! I knew it!" He smiles and looks around for his son. "Frodo! Where are you lad?"
Not as soon as he had called for him had his son poked his small head of curls around from a nearby tree. Far too curious for a hobbit. Bilbo had said Gandalf, the old wizard that usually brought fireworks and many other peculiarities and his share of disturbances of the peace with him when he came to Hobbiton, had called him once. Drogo thought this very true of his own son. Although only just a tweenager. He had just turned twenty-one a day before.
"Come on and eat, so by the time we are done, we can go for that ride we have been waiting for!" Primula said, smiling at her son.
Frodo was herded over by Drogo, and they sat and ate. Once finished they set out for Violet Bracegirdle's hobbit-hole. She was a distant cousin of theirs somehow and generously offered her home as a staying point for them while they visited. They cleaned up, and then filed out the door. Violet caught Frodo's sleeve. He turned, his large blue eyes widened in slight surprise. Violet smiled and pulled him into a tight hug.
"Have fun. And make sure none of you are wet when you come in this house. Or I'll have your hide if you wet this hole up, so help me!" She said jokingly, her soft brown eyes happily shining.
Frodo laughed easily. "Of course Ms. Violet. We have a boat of course! See you soon!" He called as he ran off to catch up, waving.
Violet smiles as they go off, but her stomach churns slightly, uneasily, for some unknown reason. She sighs and goes back into her home, and rummages around the kitchen for something to clean. Finally, Drogo, Frodo and Primula get to their final destination. They were to take a boat on Brandywine River. It was going to be just the three of them by moonlight. Something special for Frodo's birthday (although it was the day before really). They get into the boat and set off, ready to be back in a short time. Frodo laughs shortly, enjoying the rowing, but soon all things change. The boat rocked violently on its keel, the equilibrium shattering and finally capsizing the boat. Hobbits can't swim so most stay away from water, but only a rare few can swim. Unfortunately, Primula, Drogo and Frodo are not any of those lucky hobbits.
"PRIMULA! FRODO!" Drogo screamed, earning himself a long swallow of river water.
He gagged, coughed and sputtered it up. He never received a reply from his wife. Or he never heard it, for he had already drowned.
"D--Drogo!" Primula finally managed, floundering through the Brandywine's currents. She caught a glance of her son's prostrate form washing onto the shore. Oh, by the Valar, please let him live! Please! She cried out in her mind. But, before she could think a last thought, an undertow in the currents wrapped around her ankles and towed her with it. She drowned before she was submerged totally. She and swallowed too much water and her heart gave out when she saw Frodo washing up on shore. A nearby farmer, rocking on his rocking chair on his porch happened to be outside that very night, and heard Drogo's scream muffled about a little under a third of a mile away. Amazing how quiet it was then in Buckland. He ran to the river side, torch lit only to find a capsized boat and a young hobbit lad washed up on the shore. He bent down next to him immediately.
"Oh, come around young lad! Come around now!" He said anxiously, supporting the young hobbit up and beating firmly but softly on his back. With a gag, a long spew of river water is projected from his mouth, and Frodo moans.
"Where...Mom...Dad...Why?" He murmured, unsure of anything, chills now setting in with his rapidly dizzying mind.
"Shhsh now lad, I'll get you some blankets. Come along now." The farmer said, carrying the hobbit all the way to his hobbit hole. Once there, he wraps him in blankets and gets him a mug of warm broth.
"Now, where do you live?" He asked the tween, watching him closely, to make sure if he gets sick to get him to the bathroom.
Frodo sipped some of the broth, head clearing slightly. "Hmm? oh.. I er, live in Crickhollow, but I'm here visiting relatives with my parents...Where are they?" He asked, looking around, blinking his blurry blue eyes, hoping his vision would clear.
The farmer looked at his bare feet. He couldn't bring himself to tell the lad. He did not answer. "Where are you staying?" He asked instead.
It was a good thing Frodo was felling ill and still having the chills, or he would have pestered the poor farmer until his answer was reached. Just tween behavior. "Oh.. um... Violet....Bracegirdle. That's her name."
The farmer nodded and helped the lad to his feet. " Come now, I'll be getting you back to yer...cousin? Aunt?" He asked, making their way out o the doorway.
"Yes..." Frodo murmured, shuddering violently. He hacked a horrid sounding cough.
The farmer helped him stay standing, then led him to the side of the road where he became sick. Once through vomiting, Frodo's knees felt weak and his stomach raw. His head was clogged feeling and stuffy. He could barely see straight. He shut his eyes.
"I don't think.." He began, but couldn't finish. His knees became unhinged and the farmer caught him easily enough. The lad wasn't as big as normal hobbits his age.
A little under an hour later, the farmer knocked on Violet Bracegirdle's door. She opened the door in her old cotton night gown, brown eyes terrified.
"Erm, lady, I believe this is your.." But he wasn't allowed to finish. Violet swept Frodo into her arms and brought him in the house. The farmer followed.
Violet set him up in a room. Once tucked in many blankets, Frodo's chills became less severe and Violet turned to the farmer.
"I don't know how I can ever repay you for bringing Frodo back safely ...enough. Whatever can I do?" She asked sincerely.
The farmer hung his head. "You can break the news to him. I can't bring myself to do it."
"The news?" Violet asked, not understanding.
"The lad's parents.. they.. I mean, I found him and.. Well, he was alone, but I.." The farmer tried to say, but couldn't seem to get it out right. Violet understood it well enough.
"Oh! O no, no, no, no, no." She said horrified.
"I'm afraid so.. I just couldn't tell him when he asked me 'bout them." He said softly.
Tears coursed down Violet's pretty face. "Alright. Thank you again.. I am always in you debt..." She said, and went up to him. She kissed his forehead.
Once the farmer had left, she sent her neighbor, Azaelia Bolger's husband to fetch one Mister Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, Hobbiton. He arrived two days later. Wiry brows furrowed, he came into Frodo's room, to find Violet wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. The lad was shaking all over. He hacked another cough.
"..And Primula and Drogo?" Bilbo asked her after a while of talking.
"Both dead Mister Bilbo." She answered in a tiny voice. "Do you know who can take him? He's an orphan and I know he needs a home. He's only a tweenager..."
"Why not you, Violet?" Bilbo asked, not too thrilled with asking her, but thinking it polite to do so.
Her eyes widened in horror. "Me, sir? O why no, I'm not much older 'en he is. And I am single... I don't honestly think I could raise him right as he deserves.." She said, a slight flush creeping up onto her neck and cheeks.
Bilbo smiled and patted her hand. "There, there. No worries. I'll take the lad. He is after all one of my favorite cousins...." He said, voice trailing off.
"Uncle Bilbo?" Came a tiny, muffled voice from the pile of shivering covers.
Bilbo looked in alarm at the you tween. "Yes, lad? What's wrong, you need anything?" He asked, gently.
The lad shook his head. "Where am I going? I mean...Violet said... and I... I mean... My.." He tried to speak, but just dissolved into tears.
Bilbo went over and gathered him into his arms. "Shhhhsh...there, there my boy." He crooned. "You'll be right. I'm taking you with me. We will live in Bag End, and you will be just fine....Just need you to get better. Violet, do you mind if I stay until Frodo is well enough to travel?" He asked.
Violet smiled, wiping her eyes. "Of course.." She then leaves the lad and his cousin be.
----------------------------------------------
No less then two days later, Frodo was still suffering from pneumonia. And there was a rapping on the door. Violet went to answer it. But to her surprise, she found Bilbo there already.
"What do you want Lobelia?" He asked coldly.
The female hobbit wrinkled her nose as if she hated the sight of Bilbo himself.
"Well, I heard you have yourself an heir now... Is this all true?" She asked poisonously.
Bilbo nodded. "Yes, that means you have one less thing to worry about..." But he was interrupted.
"And exactly WHO is this heir?" She asked with a hiss.
"Frodo Baggins.. he just lost his parents, and I am taking him in.." Once more, interrupted.
"You mean that.. that.. BRANDYBUCK! Your joking right Bilbo old dear." She hissed venomously.
"No, I'm not joking Lobelia. Now, good bye." And with that he shut the door. This raised a shriek of indignity from Lobelia from outside the doorframe.
He turned to find Violet standing there, frozen in place.
"Whatever is the matter?" He asked good naturedly.
She jumped. "Oh, nothing...Just that, that Lobelia.. She is horrid isn't she?" She said slowly.
Bilbo sighed and nodded. "Yes, very. How is Frodo?"
"Very well. He is very strong and should kick this any time soon."
"Good. Good."
Ad with that Bilbo went in and sat in the chair by Frodo's bedside. Frodo's eyes flickered open. Their sad blue depths focused on Bilbo and lit up immediately.
"Bilbo!" He croaked. "Can.." He coughed once more. "Could I hear a story of yours?" He asked gingerly.
Bilbo smiled and nodded. He ran his hand through the lads mop of brown curls, wet with sweat. "Alright.. well, how about this one...
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where Many paths and errands meet.
And whither then.. I cannot say....
~*Authors Note: Well, tada!!! I just whipped this together on short notice cuz I was bored again. Well, I hoe you liked...The poem is Tolkien's. of course.. all I own is the farmer, Violet Bracegirdle, and Azaelia's husband. lmao. Namarie, The Renewer. *~