Frodo's Precious by Arquen Telquanda © 2002
Disclaimer: Of COURSE I'm not Tolkien. He's dead. (Seriously, I don't own any of these characters, nor is this story for any purpose but sheer enjoyment on the part of the author and all possible readers.)
Note: Yes, I have read all three LotR books. For ease of description, though, all the characters here are described as if they really look, sound, and act like the actors who played them in the PJackson LotR films. I'm also not entirely sure how all the hobbit's ages fit together, so just assume that everyone is Frodo's age unless otherwise specified.
This takes place sometime between Bilbo's final birthday-party and the re- arrival of Gandalf in the Shire.
Frodo padded through the forest track, his stealthy hobbit-feet making no noise on the pine needles that carpeted the path. He'd struck out on his own today, his birthday, for a time to think. He'd told no one - not Pip or Merry, not even Sam, his best friend.
Some very un-Baggins-like thoughts were stirring around in his head. He'd been spending too much time with Bilbo, that's for certain, filling his mind with all sorts of wild ideas! Why couldn't he be satisfied with the Shire and Bag End, perhaps a garden like Sam had and loved so? Why was he cursed with these silly dreams and wishes?
He sat down on a ledge, dangling his feet over the gently sloping cliffside, and pulled an apple from his pocket. Shining it on his waistcoat, he failed to notice the shadow racing along behind him until it tripped and fell upon him headlong, sending both of them sliding down the shaded track.
The apple was knocked from Frodo's hand a second before the wind in his lungs followed suit. He navigated a final root by way of his rib cage and lay there, breathless, while his comrade-in-mishap thumped to a stop alongside a stump. In the silence that followed he could hear hard breathing and a sneeze.
Then a scrabbling sound came and two small hands gripped him by the wrists. "Oh, Mr. Baggins! I'm terribly sorry!" The hands pulled him up from the ground and stood him on his feet. Frodo looked into the face of a hobbit- maid, freckled and dark-eyed, with a mob cap over her curly brown hair, round little ears, and a pointed chin. Her dress was faded green linen, covered by a grass-stained pinny-apron, and around her neck she wore a string of white beads. She was young, Frodo thought; then, looking again, saw the slight curves beneath her homespun dress and blushingly changed his mind.
The disheveled girl curtsied. "Maylily Took, sir, at y'service. I'm so sorry for the upset, you see I took the short cut through Farmer Snout's cornfield and found Peregrin's path, but farmer must have thought I was him and sent the dogs after me. Are you hurt?" Her voice had the same Tookish lilt as Pippin's.
Frodo absently rubbed his head. "No, I don't think so, although I may have sprained my dignity on the way down. Are you Pippin's sister?" He immediately kicked himself for asking such a foolish question: there were at least ten separate families of Tooks in the Shire, and the odds of Pippin and Maylily being so closely related were very slim. Not a good way to impress a lass, by asking stupid questions! he thought.
"No, Mr. Baggins," said Maylily, bowing her head. "First cousin thrice removed, I believe. My father's Adelard Took, of Tuckborough."
Frodo's blue eyes opened wide in amusement. "You're a long ways from home, then, Miss Took. What are you up to around here?"
"I'm looking for Peregrin, Mr. Baggins. Do you know where he is?"
"Not at the moment, miss, but I know where he'll soon be." Frodo bent and picked up his apple. "It's getting dark, and you can't walk all the way back to Tuckborough from here. Come on, I'll take you down to the Green Dragon. Have you had supper?"
"Oh, Mr. Baggins, I haven't eaten since elevensies!"
It was dark out by the time Frodo pushed open the door to the tavern. The Green Dragon was warm, well-lit and crowded; Pippin and Merry occupied the center of the floor, waving mugs and singing. They sent up a shout when Frodo and Maylily came into view.
"Ho! the birthday boy's here!" cried Merry. "Look, everyone, drinks on Frodo!"
Frodo laughed and signalled to the bartender; he gathered four mugs to him and threaded his way through the crowd to Pippin and Merry's table. Pippin choked on his ale as Frodo's companion approached. "Maylily! Why aren't you back home safe where I left you last time?"
"I'm only a little younger'n you and your friends, Peregrin, and I'll thank you not to treat me like a wee toddler!" Maylily flashed back, relaxing as she fell into an obviously familiar pattern. "I came looking for you, Master Took, on account of your mam wants you to thatch up the kitchen ceiling again, and ran over poor Mr. Baggins here - aye, and knocked him down Three-farthing Hill!"
Merry eyed Frodo. "He seems all right to me. Don't worry, Lil, he probably enjoyed it."
Pippin snorted with laughter as Frodo reddened. Merry continued on, gesturing philisophically with his half-empty tankard. "Now, Miss Maylily, you mustn't be deceived by them big blue innocent peepers Frodo's got. Behind those eyes is a mind like a knife edge - he'll pull you in, sure enough, and he won't never let you go."
Pippin was laughing so hard he couldn't speak. Maylily leaned over the table and pinched Merry's earlobe. "Sure he will, and there's a sea-dragon under Buckleberry Ferry too, isn't that so, Master Merry?"
Merry winked. "Aye, girlie, and he'll take your foot off if you aren't careful. I got bitten once - "
"Merry, that was nothing but a splinter," Frodo interrupted, glad for the change of subject. Pippin joined in. "Aye, Maylily, you should have seen him - screaming like a baby, beggin' us to pull the branch out of his foot, while all the time it was only a tiny thing!"
While Pippin and Merry argued, Frodo filched a roll and a wedge of cheese from a tavern-lad's tray as he went by. He passed them to Maylily and was rewarded with a shy smile. "Don't pay any attention to Merry," Frodo said, in what he hoped was a casual manner.
Maylily shook her head. "He's been teasing me since I was born. I never listen to cousin Merry, Mr. Baggins."
"Oh, don't call me that - it makes me feel old," Frodo grinned. "Frodo's fine."
She smiled again, her eyes sparkling in the lamplight. Very timidly, Frodo reached for her hand.
Disclaimer: Of COURSE I'm not Tolkien. He's dead. (Seriously, I don't own any of these characters, nor is this story for any purpose but sheer enjoyment on the part of the author and all possible readers.)
Note: Yes, I have read all three LotR books. For ease of description, though, all the characters here are described as if they really look, sound, and act like the actors who played them in the PJackson LotR films. I'm also not entirely sure how all the hobbit's ages fit together, so just assume that everyone is Frodo's age unless otherwise specified.
This takes place sometime between Bilbo's final birthday-party and the re- arrival of Gandalf in the Shire.
Frodo padded through the forest track, his stealthy hobbit-feet making no noise on the pine needles that carpeted the path. He'd struck out on his own today, his birthday, for a time to think. He'd told no one - not Pip or Merry, not even Sam, his best friend.
Some very un-Baggins-like thoughts were stirring around in his head. He'd been spending too much time with Bilbo, that's for certain, filling his mind with all sorts of wild ideas! Why couldn't he be satisfied with the Shire and Bag End, perhaps a garden like Sam had and loved so? Why was he cursed with these silly dreams and wishes?
He sat down on a ledge, dangling his feet over the gently sloping cliffside, and pulled an apple from his pocket. Shining it on his waistcoat, he failed to notice the shadow racing along behind him until it tripped and fell upon him headlong, sending both of them sliding down the shaded track.
The apple was knocked from Frodo's hand a second before the wind in his lungs followed suit. He navigated a final root by way of his rib cage and lay there, breathless, while his comrade-in-mishap thumped to a stop alongside a stump. In the silence that followed he could hear hard breathing and a sneeze.
Then a scrabbling sound came and two small hands gripped him by the wrists. "Oh, Mr. Baggins! I'm terribly sorry!" The hands pulled him up from the ground and stood him on his feet. Frodo looked into the face of a hobbit- maid, freckled and dark-eyed, with a mob cap over her curly brown hair, round little ears, and a pointed chin. Her dress was faded green linen, covered by a grass-stained pinny-apron, and around her neck she wore a string of white beads. She was young, Frodo thought; then, looking again, saw the slight curves beneath her homespun dress and blushingly changed his mind.
The disheveled girl curtsied. "Maylily Took, sir, at y'service. I'm so sorry for the upset, you see I took the short cut through Farmer Snout's cornfield and found Peregrin's path, but farmer must have thought I was him and sent the dogs after me. Are you hurt?" Her voice had the same Tookish lilt as Pippin's.
Frodo absently rubbed his head. "No, I don't think so, although I may have sprained my dignity on the way down. Are you Pippin's sister?" He immediately kicked himself for asking such a foolish question: there were at least ten separate families of Tooks in the Shire, and the odds of Pippin and Maylily being so closely related were very slim. Not a good way to impress a lass, by asking stupid questions! he thought.
"No, Mr. Baggins," said Maylily, bowing her head. "First cousin thrice removed, I believe. My father's Adelard Took, of Tuckborough."
Frodo's blue eyes opened wide in amusement. "You're a long ways from home, then, Miss Took. What are you up to around here?"
"I'm looking for Peregrin, Mr. Baggins. Do you know where he is?"
"Not at the moment, miss, but I know where he'll soon be." Frodo bent and picked up his apple. "It's getting dark, and you can't walk all the way back to Tuckborough from here. Come on, I'll take you down to the Green Dragon. Have you had supper?"
"Oh, Mr. Baggins, I haven't eaten since elevensies!"
It was dark out by the time Frodo pushed open the door to the tavern. The Green Dragon was warm, well-lit and crowded; Pippin and Merry occupied the center of the floor, waving mugs and singing. They sent up a shout when Frodo and Maylily came into view.
"Ho! the birthday boy's here!" cried Merry. "Look, everyone, drinks on Frodo!"
Frodo laughed and signalled to the bartender; he gathered four mugs to him and threaded his way through the crowd to Pippin and Merry's table. Pippin choked on his ale as Frodo's companion approached. "Maylily! Why aren't you back home safe where I left you last time?"
"I'm only a little younger'n you and your friends, Peregrin, and I'll thank you not to treat me like a wee toddler!" Maylily flashed back, relaxing as she fell into an obviously familiar pattern. "I came looking for you, Master Took, on account of your mam wants you to thatch up the kitchen ceiling again, and ran over poor Mr. Baggins here - aye, and knocked him down Three-farthing Hill!"
Merry eyed Frodo. "He seems all right to me. Don't worry, Lil, he probably enjoyed it."
Pippin snorted with laughter as Frodo reddened. Merry continued on, gesturing philisophically with his half-empty tankard. "Now, Miss Maylily, you mustn't be deceived by them big blue innocent peepers Frodo's got. Behind those eyes is a mind like a knife edge - he'll pull you in, sure enough, and he won't never let you go."
Pippin was laughing so hard he couldn't speak. Maylily leaned over the table and pinched Merry's earlobe. "Sure he will, and there's a sea-dragon under Buckleberry Ferry too, isn't that so, Master Merry?"
Merry winked. "Aye, girlie, and he'll take your foot off if you aren't careful. I got bitten once - "
"Merry, that was nothing but a splinter," Frodo interrupted, glad for the change of subject. Pippin joined in. "Aye, Maylily, you should have seen him - screaming like a baby, beggin' us to pull the branch out of his foot, while all the time it was only a tiny thing!"
While Pippin and Merry argued, Frodo filched a roll and a wedge of cheese from a tavern-lad's tray as he went by. He passed them to Maylily and was rewarded with a shy smile. "Don't pay any attention to Merry," Frodo said, in what he hoped was a casual manner.
Maylily shook her head. "He's been teasing me since I was born. I never listen to cousin Merry, Mr. Baggins."
"Oh, don't call me that - it makes me feel old," Frodo grinned. "Frodo's fine."
She smiled again, her eyes sparkling in the lamplight. Very timidly, Frodo reached for her hand.