A/N - this chapter contains some condensed direct or slightly modified quotes from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien indicated by ~~~. I have not reread it so forgive me if I mess up something. If you find any canon errors, please do let me know and I will endeavor to fix it or at least post a disclaimer to such effect. If you haven't read The Hobbit yet, GO READ IT! There is so much delightful stuff in there that I had to cut even from the small quotes in this story.

To my reviewers: A big thank you. You make my day. The plot bunnies are great though I don't know that I can think up stories worthy of anything more than dust bunnies. Anyone else out there feel free to use these ideas. Just don't forget to credit the plot bunny's parental unit.

Last bit for now - Tolkien loved trees. Please don't kill any for unnecessary printouts of anything. Even recycled paper taxes the environment.



Ivy's Revenge - Chapter 2

Soon, despite much protest, Frodo was thoroughly soaked, shivering but clean. Sam poured a pitcher of warm water over to rinse him off then held out a robe for him. Frodo's shivering ended shortly after but he was still miserable as the throbbing in his ankle continued.

C'mon Frodo-lad. You're going to lie down and put your foot up. Sam picked up his son and headed down the smial toward the room Frodo shared with his little brothers, Merry and Pippin.

On the way they met Elanor who had changed into a swimming costume and was fidgeting madly as she fought the urge to scratch. Da, I'm taking Goldi down to The Water for a swim. It's so hot today and I'm starting to itch.

All right, dear. Mind you don't scratch. For every minute you do, you'll itch two more, warned Sam. How is Goldi? Is she itchy?

No Da. I'm pretty sure she never touched the ivy at all.

Good. But first, I want you to run down to Widow Rumble's place and call your mother home. I have duties this afternoon but I want Someone here for Frodo-lad.

Right away. She gave Frodo a much-hated pat on the head. G'bye, Fro-bro.



Rose sighed as she looked in on her eldest son. He was lying flat on his back, wearing only short breeches: much of his skin was a blotchy reddish-pink. One hand was clutching the sheets, the fingers on the other drummed incessantly. His left foot was tapping a beat in time with his fingers. The right foot looked like it was a display of precious garnet perched up on a pillow. She walked in and sat on the bed. I came as soon as I heard. How are you doing, honey?

Argh. I don't know how much more of this itching I can take without scratching.

You will be fine, Rose said firmly. Just remember: for every minute you scratch, you'll itch two more.

I know. I know. Da already told me three times, Frodo said sullenly.

Well then, think about something else. Did you try reading?

Yes, I did. I can't concentrate because I itch. I can't stand it. Nora went swimming as soon as she started itching. And that was only on her hands and face. She took Goldi with her. Ro-sis and Mer and Pip are playing at the Smallburrows' home. Da had to go off on some mayoring business as soon as you got back. And I have to lie here with this stupid ankle up for the rest of the afternoon, Da says. Frodo's voice was getting slightly whiny by the end of this little speech and his hands were starting to pinch and tap at his skin as he sought relief without really scratching.

Rose took his hands and pressed them back onto the sheets with a stern look. Oh my poor baby.

I'm not a baby! I'm almost as old as Nora.

Rose smiled. And she is my biggest baby. She stroked Frodo's uninjured foot, smoothing the short curls. She wanted to gather him up in a hug but, from the look of the rash and scratches that covered most of his body, she thought it wiser to restrain her impulse. How about if I tell you a story?

He smiled for the first time since his fall. Yes, please! Something about dragons this time. The weather feels like dragon's breath lately.

Certainly. Let me get the Red Book. And NO scratching while I'm gone.



Rose was grateful Frodo-lad had asked for a story from long ago. As she carefully lifted the great book out of the chest where it was kept she wondered when would be a good time to let the children read it for themselves. Of course they knew their father and his friends had been part of a great war but they were far too young to understand all the harrowing details in the stories they hadn't heard yet. Maybe in a few years.

After checking that baby Hamfast was still asleep in his cradle, she took the book with her to the kitchen and set a tray on top that she filled with biscuits, fruit and milk. Carefully she took the loaded tray back to Frodo's room. By time she got there, her back was aching from the strain of holding the heavy weight out in front of her swollen stomach.

Before starting into the story she helped Frodo-lad up to a semi-sitting position, shifting the elevating cushion under his ankle closer to the headboard and adding another so it would still be as high as his heart. She draped cool wet cloths over the worst rash areas, placed a plate of food in his lap and a glass of milk in his hand. Then she sat down in the rocker and propped the book open on the far side of her belly.

Rose put on her best storytelling voice. This is a story about the famous Bilbo Baggins whose family built Bag End. The Bagginses were very respectable hobbits who never did anything unexpected. She gasped suddenly as the baby gave a sharp kick as if to remind her that unexpected things had come to be expected of the residents of Bag End. You know, we are thinking of naming your next brother after Bilbo but I have a feeling this baby is a girl. Well, let's start at the beginning, shall we?

~~~
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.
~~~

Mama, why would anyone think a hobbit-hole was a dirty nasty place? Of course it's comfortable, Frodo said with a look of puzzlement on his face.

Rose smiled at the narrow scope of a child's world. While all her children had heard tell of many things outside the Shire, they still didn't realize that the rest of the world was scarcely aware of hobbits or their holes. Dear, I think Bilbo hoped that elves and big people and dwarves would also read his book so he wrote a bit concerning hobbits for their benefit. I find it interesting to see how he chooses to describe us. But if you like, I will skip ahead to where the real story begins.

Yes please, needed Frodo. I want to hear about the elves and big people and dwarves and Gandalf and the dragon, not a bunch of boring hobbits.

Rose raised an eyebrow at Frodo-lad's less than flattering assessment. Where do I begin...? Ah yes...

~~~
By some curious chance one morning long ago in the quiet of the world, when there was less noise and more green, Bilbo Baggins was standing at his door after breakfast smoking a long wooden pipe when Gandalf came by. Gandalf! If you had heard only a quarter of what I have heard about him, you would be prepared for any sort of remarkable tale.

Good morning!said Bilbo. And a very fine morning for a pipe of tobacco out of doors into the bargain! If you have a pipe about you, sit down and have a fill of mine. Then Bilbo sat down on a seat by his door and blew out a beautiful grey ring of smoke that sailed up into the air without breaking and floated away over The Hill.

Very pretty! said Gandalf. But I have no time to blow smoke-rings this morning. I am looking for a burglar to share in an adventure, and it's very difficult to find anyone.
~~~

Mama, if Bilbo's family was so respectable why would Gandalf want to talk to him about burglaring? interrupted Frodo.

Oh my. I don't know. You'll have to ask your father that one.

Ask me what? Sam said as he entered the room. He gave a quick kiss to Rose then sat on the bed by Frodo's foot. He mirrored Rose's earlier gesture of stroking the furry curls as he inspected the spread of bruising on the other foot.

Why Gandalf wanted to talk about burglaring with Bilbo Baggins if he was such a respectable hobbit, said Frodo. Ma was just starting to read me the story of Bilbo and the dragon.

Ah well, I guess this calls for a story that isn't in the Red Book. Bilbo didn't think it was necessary to write anything about his childhood but your namesake Mr. Frodo told me the story one time after I caught him using a new flower pot for baking bread.



A/N - I haven't really started to write the rest of this story yet so it will be a while before I update. In the meantime, go read and review my other stuff. Pretty please!