TITLE: Starved

AUTHOR: Febobe (Frodo Baggins of Bag End - FBoBE - "Febobe")

FANDOM: Lord of the Rings

PAIRING: N/A - Gen (Characters: Frodo Baggins, Sam Gamgee, Faramir, Arwen, Eowyn, members of the Fellowship, brief appearance by Ioreth)

GENRE: Hurt/comfort; angst

RATING: Teen/PG for thematic darkness

WORD COUNT: 12,139 words

SUMMARY: Following the Quest, Frodo and Sam find that returning to life as usual isn't as easy as it might seem. . .particularly when it comes to eating.

WARNINGS: Rating for mild thematic darkness only; no sex, slash, or profanity. Probably bookverse apart from Frodo's appearance, but you could go either way on the interpretation. Additionally, this series is heavy on the food imagery - I *am* writing about a hobbit, after all, and a hobbit with a food obsession at that, so please bear with me! Seriously, this is a foodie h/c Frodo fic, so if you don't like those, DON'T CLICK. Just STOP NOW. Otherwise, you will NOT enjoy yourself. Trust me!

NOTES: The foods cited in this fic are drawn from a wide variety of sources, including an online BBC website for the English foods of the Shirefolk (I'd give you the URL, but it doesn't seem to be functioning fully these days, so I don't know how much good that would do!) and from 1,000 Italian Recipes by Michele Scicolone for the "Italian" recipes of Minas Tirith and Gondor (Minas Tirith sits at about the latitude of Florence, according to JRRT in the Letters, which inspired some of us in discussion to give Gondor a somewhat "Italian" flavor). Eowyn's recipes come from One Potato, Two Potato, from 500 Soups, and from general personal experience (in short, I could find you a recipe for it, but I didn't look at a specific book this time to find it). In addition, some of my ideas about the effects of starvation/food deprivation on the human psyche and the body come from the Ancel Keys experiment, summarized nicely at .?title=EffectsOfSemiStarvation (just in case you're interested in my source material).

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Tolkien's characters; I just like to play with them from time to time. I make no claim of ownership on his creations. Any and all treatments used in this series are purely for fictitious purposes and not to be attempted on humans (having been designed for fictitious hobbits instead). Please consult a qualified health care professional for all your medical needs.

CHAPTER TEN

"Frodo, may I come in?"

Frodo looked up from his writing-desk with a start. Faramir stood waiting at the door, his face brightened by a merry smile.

"Well, *you* look as if you're happy. Come in and tell me what it is!" Closing his book, Frodo motioned the steward inside, settling back in his cushioned chair. At this, Faramir took on an expression of slight chagrin, but came inside anyhow.

"How is your cook-book coming?"

Frodo shook his head, scowling. "It isn't. My hand gets cramped writing, and Aragorn says I should not practise for so long at a time. But I do not see how I am to finish it otherwise."

"I see." Faramir nodded gravely. "How would you feel were I to assign you a scribe?"

"A scribe?" Frodo blinked. He had never had anyone assigned to him before. At home, Sam had assisted him with things, but never writing, and that - well, that simply felt different. All the same, if it would help finish the book. . . .

Eagerly he nodded.

"Please. . .I should like that." A horrible thought suddenly entered his mind, and swiftly he added, "So long as it will not be someone interested in gawking. I do not wish to be stared at, or gossiped about after hours."

"I understand *completely.*" Nodding, Faramir smiled. "I have in mind a most excellent fellow, someone who attended my father and myself personally. Therefore, he has had much experience in keeping confidence, and in conducting himself as a young man of honour. I think you will find his behaviour suitable. If you do not, I would not, of course, expect you to continue working with him."

"Then my answer is yes." Frodo rubbed his fingers. "I should welcome the respite."

"How are you feeling otherwise?"

"Truthfully?"

"Truthfully." Faramir's grey eyes, filled with concern, met Frodo's blue ones.

"Well, honestly, I am not sure." Frodo sighed. "I get so hungry, and - nothing seems so good as looking at a menu or a cook-book, or cooking something when I am not too tired. I still do not feel quite *myself* again, if you take my meaning."

"Indeed I do." Rising, Faramir brushed Frodo's shoulder gently with one large hand. "Keep doing what you are doing, Frodo. I cannot tell you that you will ever feel at peace, but I can assure you that at least you will not want for amusement or nourishment, so long as your friends are near."

And with that, he made his farewell and departed, slipping into the corridor like a spring wind rustling away.

-to be continued-