A. N. -My first crack fic! Lmk what you think! This is total nonsense, I wrote most of it in the middle of the night. Thanks for reading! I love you, hope you have a good time :)

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Concerning Some Baby Hobbits: Chapter 1

Arwen was dumbfounded.

"These are the saviors of Middle Earth?" she asked. "But they're so SMALL!"

Frodo, Sam, Pippin and Merry all shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"Arwen." whispered Aragorn, leaning close to her. "They may be small, but they are grown men."

"You're grownups?" Arwen asked the hobbits in astonishment.

"Yes, m'lady." Merry said politely.

"But you're so little." Arwen got up and went to kneel in front of Pippin, examining him closely. "I hope the cooks have been making you special things. I don't know much about children, but I've heard that they all enjoy sweets."

"Arwen, they're not children." protested Aragorn.

"I am!" Pippin piped up. He wanted sweets.

Merry started to say, 'well, I'm not', but then closed his mouth abruptly. He wanted sweets too.

"What kind of things do you like to eat?" Arwen continued.

"Oh, anything." said Merry.

Frodo and Sam were looking confused, but they didn't say anything. Merry would just have to explain this new plot to them later.

"And have the healers made all the necessary arrangements for you four?" Arwen went on. "You're so small, you must need high chairs at the table…and perhaps bars on the sides of the bed so you don't fall out! Do you find it troublesome to sleep in the dark?"

"Arwen. My love. Come with me for a moment." said Aragorn between his teeth.

"All right." Arwen got up and patted Pippin on the head. "I will see to the cooks, and perhaps some other arrangements as well."

Then she skipped out of the room, with Aragorn grimly leading the way.

When they were out of earshot, Aragorn began, "Arwen, they are NOT children!"

Arwen wasn't listening. "Aragorn, they're so sweet! Did you see how the littlest one smiled at me?"

"He smiled at you because he wants food."

"Of course, don't all Elflings love their meals? And these little ones have such round little stomachs, they must want even more mealtimes than the little Elflings I knew growing up." Arwen chirped. "Except for the pale one with the pretty eyes. He needs some feeding up, the poor dear."

"Arwen, that is the Ringbearer. He is not a poor dear."

"Aragorn, we'll be getting married next week. Couldn't we adopt one of them? They need a mother."

"Sweetheart, NO. Half of them already have mothers. And they are adults, Arwen, small adults."

"But two of them don't have mothers?" Arwen asked.

Aragorn knew he was trapped. He put his face in his hands. "Sam has a father, but Frodo is an orphan."

"Is he the little pale one? He had such an adorable smile."

"Yes." admitted Aragorn. "But Arwen, my heart, he is fifty years old."

"Oh, he's only fifty?"

(When you're over two thousand years old, fifty is practically an infant, I guess.)

Aragorn walked quickly into a nearby bedroom, grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. The owner of the bedroom, who turned out to be Legolas, poked his head out of the closet.

"Aragorn, why are you in here when I'm getting dressed?"

"Oh, sorry." Aragorn managed. "It's just…Arwen."

"Girls." Legolas said in disgust, flipping his silvery hair.

"Girls." Aragorn agreed. "Mind you, I like girls. It's just that Arwen is…a bit confused. She wants to adopt one of the hobbits."

Legolas gave Aragorn a funny look. "Well, once you two are married, she'll have to adopt Frodo, right?"

"What? Why?"

"I mean, Frodo is your son…"

Aragorn stared at the Elf. "Frodo is my…my what?"

"Your son! Er, isn't he? I just always assumed—I mean, you kept a closer watch on him than you did over the other children. I thought you must be related."

Aragorn walked very quickly out of the room.