Bronwe: Playing (12/?)
By ALBA
******
DISCLAIMER: The characters mentioned in this story do not belong to me, they belong to J.R.R. Tolkien's estate. I merely borrowed them and will return them when I'm finished with them. I am making no money off this fiction, in fact, I'm paying for it to even BE here. So don't sue me because I am flat broke. PrettySparklyDanceBoys broke my bank.
DEDICATION: For Kris, my beloved, nasty elfslut. :) For Janelle, my smutmuse who gives me the needed boots to the head. And to Daisy Gamgee for her kind words and her go-ahead for me to write this series. A big thank you to everyone who's reviewed this little fic of mine. It's a real blast writing it!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: "Bronwe" is Sindarin for "enduring, lasting quality, faith" (according to http://www.jrrvf.com/~hisweloke/cgi-bin/sintrans.cgi). No, Elves don't have anything to do with the story. I just liked the word. :)
******
BRONWE: Playing
December blew in cold and white that year, with six inches of snow falling by mid-day on the first. The hobbit children were out soon after, throwing snowballs, making snowmen and sledding down the big hill of Bagshot Row.
"It's beautiful," Merry commented to Pippin as they stood at the big window of Bag End, overlooking the Row.
"So clean and white," Pippin said.
"Were we ever that young?" Frodo chimed in, watching a pair of children race each other down the steep slope.
Merry rolled his eyes fondly. "You're not that old, Frodo, so stop it."
"I'm older than both of you."
"But not older than me!" Bilbo yelled from the kitchen. "So quiet, all of you!"
"What did I do?" Pippin cried.
"You were there. Now, are you three going to help me or not?"
"We're actually allowed IN?" Merry said sarcastically, rounding the corner and narrowly missing getting nailed with a ball of dough. Bilbo had been shut up in the kitchen all day, not even letting Frodo in to get some tea at elevensies.
"Shut up and come here," Bilbo ordered, handing Pippin a bowl and Frodo a knife.
"Hey, where's Sam?" asked Pippin. "Isn't he usually here by now?"
Bilbo glanced up from his own bowl to look over at Pippin. "The Gaffer's caught some kind of cold, so I told Sam to stay home and help his Mam with the little ones."
"Poor Sam!"
"Poor Sam?" Frodo broke in, "poor Ma Gamgee! Having to put up with all those children PLUS her sick husband?" Merry snorted and Pippin giggled at that, while Bilbo rolled his eyes.
"Be nice," he scolded.
"Sorry!" three voices chorused at once. Bilbo shook his head at them, earning himself a round of rude noises and razzing from the young hobbits.
"Keep this up and you won't get to eat what we're making."
"What *are* we making, Bilbo?" Frodo asked.
"Pies. The Gaffer gave me some of his best apples a few days ago and they're perfect for making pies. Just in time for Yule."
"Ohhhhhhhhhhh," came the hobbit chorus again. Bilbo laughed and handed Merry half the apples in his bowl.
"You and Frodo slice these," he said, "while Pippin and I make the dough." Pippin eagerly bounced over with his bowl, watching Bilbo carefully and copying his movements.
"Will the Gaffer be all right?" Merry asked and Bilbo nodded.
"In a few days, he'll be fine. Just needs a bit of bed rest and WHAT in the name of Elbereth are you two doing?" Frodo and Merry were flicking small pieces of apple at each other, keeping a mental tally of hits. Frodo was winning at the moment, but only because Merry had stopped listening to Bilbo and was now more than little distracted by the sight of Pippin happily kneading dough with the older hobbit. Frodo managed to actually hit him in the face with his next missile and Merry squeaked angrily.
"What happened?" Pippin exclaimed, hopping over to see if Merry was hurt.
"Frodo hit me with a piece of apple."
"FRODO."
"Sorry, Uncle Bilbo! But Merry wasn't paying attention and I, um… didn't want him to cut himself. Yes, that's it."
"I wasn't born yesterday, Frodo," Bilbo told his nephew, sighing. "Just. Please don't do it again."
"Yes, Uncle Bilbo… HEY!" Pippin had sneakily thrown a piece of dough at Frodo, hitting him square between the eyes.
"Pip!" Merry and Bilbo both exclaimed.
"What?"
"You little…" Grabbing a piece of apple, Frodo fired it across the kitchen, missing Pippin by an inch and hitting the counter. Pippin reached into Merry's bowl and grabbed his own apple, under-handing it to nail Frodo in the chin. Frodo's next apple hit Bilbo in the chest while Merry narrowly avoided the egg that Pippin threw in retaliation. A full-fledged food fight erupted between Frodo and Pippin, both grabbing whatever missiles were closest to them until the entire kitchen was covered in apples, eggs, dough, flour, and sugar.
"FRODO BAGGINS!" Bilbo finally thundered.
"PEREGRIN TOOK!" Merry also yelled.
"Clean this up!" Both said, glaring at the other two.
"I am going to go change my shirt and when I get back this kitchen had BETTER be clean," Bilbo threatened, heading down the hall to his room.
"Have fun," said Merry, attempting to sneak out but Frodo grabbed his arm.
"Not so fast! You were part of this too!"
"Pffft."
"Boys," Bilbo called. "Stop arguing and start cleaning!"
"Yes, Bilbo!" Grumbling, Frodo threw a rag at Merry and handed Pippin the sponge. "Start cleaning."
"What are you doing to do?" Merry demanded.
"Wash the dishes."
"Okay then." The kitchen was cleaned without further major incident, except for some minor flicking of water and soapsuds in Pippin's direction, to which Frodo received a sponge to the nose. But when Bilbo walked back in twenty minutes later, the kitchen was clean, and the remaining apples were in one bowl, waiting to be sliced.
"Good thing I didn't pull out all the Gaffer's apples…" Bilbo muttered to himself. "Well, you three rascals, it's something. Now get out of here, all of you. You're more hindrance than help. I'll let you know when something's ready." Affectionately ruffling Frodo's hair, Bilbo shooed them out of the room before closing the curtain he'd recently installed over the door. The sounds of pounding could be heard from behind the curtain and Merry looked at Frodo.
"WHAT is he doing in there?"
Frodo shrugged. "Don't look at me."
"Come play chess with me," Pippin interrupted them, settling himself behind the chess board that Bilbo kept on the table. "Two out of three?"
"You still owe me from Bilbo and Frodo's birthday!" Merry said, plopping down into the other spot. Frodo sat in the middle, watching with a smile as the game began, fast and furious. And when Bilbo finally emerged from the kitchen an hour later, they were still playing.
"DIE!" Pippin shrieked when Merry made a particularly nasty move.
"EVIL!" Merry shouted back, throwing a discarded pawn across the table.
"Let's leave them to their game," Bilbo said in Frodo's ear, "and have some of that nice, warm pie."
Frodo looked up at his uncle, face shining. "They're just…" Pippin's queen flew by his face and Frodo giggled, hastily retreating with Bilbo into the kitchen as the formerly calm chess game deteriorated into a full-blown wrestling match.
"Don't break the chair!" was all Bilbo said, watching from the kitchen as the two rolled around on the floor in the next room. Over their respective pieces of pie, Frodo and Bilbo shared a laugh. "Here's hoping they never change."
"I'll eat to that." Offering a salute with his fork, Frodo shook his head at his friends. Such children, the pair of them.
But, as Bilbo often told him, a bit of playing never hurt anyone.
By ALBA
******
DISCLAIMER: The characters mentioned in this story do not belong to me, they belong to J.R.R. Tolkien's estate. I merely borrowed them and will return them when I'm finished with them. I am making no money off this fiction, in fact, I'm paying for it to even BE here. So don't sue me because I am flat broke. PrettySparklyDanceBoys broke my bank.
DEDICATION: For Kris, my beloved, nasty elfslut. :) For Janelle, my smutmuse who gives me the needed boots to the head. And to Daisy Gamgee for her kind words and her go-ahead for me to write this series. A big thank you to everyone who's reviewed this little fic of mine. It's a real blast writing it!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: "Bronwe" is Sindarin for "enduring, lasting quality, faith" (according to http://www.jrrvf.com/~hisweloke/cgi-bin/sintrans.cgi). No, Elves don't have anything to do with the story. I just liked the word. :)
******
BRONWE: Playing
December blew in cold and white that year, with six inches of snow falling by mid-day on the first. The hobbit children were out soon after, throwing snowballs, making snowmen and sledding down the big hill of Bagshot Row.
"It's beautiful," Merry commented to Pippin as they stood at the big window of Bag End, overlooking the Row.
"So clean and white," Pippin said.
"Were we ever that young?" Frodo chimed in, watching a pair of children race each other down the steep slope.
Merry rolled his eyes fondly. "You're not that old, Frodo, so stop it."
"I'm older than both of you."
"But not older than me!" Bilbo yelled from the kitchen. "So quiet, all of you!"
"What did I do?" Pippin cried.
"You were there. Now, are you three going to help me or not?"
"We're actually allowed IN?" Merry said sarcastically, rounding the corner and narrowly missing getting nailed with a ball of dough. Bilbo had been shut up in the kitchen all day, not even letting Frodo in to get some tea at elevensies.
"Shut up and come here," Bilbo ordered, handing Pippin a bowl and Frodo a knife.
"Hey, where's Sam?" asked Pippin. "Isn't he usually here by now?"
Bilbo glanced up from his own bowl to look over at Pippin. "The Gaffer's caught some kind of cold, so I told Sam to stay home and help his Mam with the little ones."
"Poor Sam!"
"Poor Sam?" Frodo broke in, "poor Ma Gamgee! Having to put up with all those children PLUS her sick husband?" Merry snorted and Pippin giggled at that, while Bilbo rolled his eyes.
"Be nice," he scolded.
"Sorry!" three voices chorused at once. Bilbo shook his head at them, earning himself a round of rude noises and razzing from the young hobbits.
"Keep this up and you won't get to eat what we're making."
"What *are* we making, Bilbo?" Frodo asked.
"Pies. The Gaffer gave me some of his best apples a few days ago and they're perfect for making pies. Just in time for Yule."
"Ohhhhhhhhhhh," came the hobbit chorus again. Bilbo laughed and handed Merry half the apples in his bowl.
"You and Frodo slice these," he said, "while Pippin and I make the dough." Pippin eagerly bounced over with his bowl, watching Bilbo carefully and copying his movements.
"Will the Gaffer be all right?" Merry asked and Bilbo nodded.
"In a few days, he'll be fine. Just needs a bit of bed rest and WHAT in the name of Elbereth are you two doing?" Frodo and Merry were flicking small pieces of apple at each other, keeping a mental tally of hits. Frodo was winning at the moment, but only because Merry had stopped listening to Bilbo and was now more than little distracted by the sight of Pippin happily kneading dough with the older hobbit. Frodo managed to actually hit him in the face with his next missile and Merry squeaked angrily.
"What happened?" Pippin exclaimed, hopping over to see if Merry was hurt.
"Frodo hit me with a piece of apple."
"FRODO."
"Sorry, Uncle Bilbo! But Merry wasn't paying attention and I, um… didn't want him to cut himself. Yes, that's it."
"I wasn't born yesterday, Frodo," Bilbo told his nephew, sighing. "Just. Please don't do it again."
"Yes, Uncle Bilbo… HEY!" Pippin had sneakily thrown a piece of dough at Frodo, hitting him square between the eyes.
"Pip!" Merry and Bilbo both exclaimed.
"What?"
"You little…" Grabbing a piece of apple, Frodo fired it across the kitchen, missing Pippin by an inch and hitting the counter. Pippin reached into Merry's bowl and grabbed his own apple, under-handing it to nail Frodo in the chin. Frodo's next apple hit Bilbo in the chest while Merry narrowly avoided the egg that Pippin threw in retaliation. A full-fledged food fight erupted between Frodo and Pippin, both grabbing whatever missiles were closest to them until the entire kitchen was covered in apples, eggs, dough, flour, and sugar.
"FRODO BAGGINS!" Bilbo finally thundered.
"PEREGRIN TOOK!" Merry also yelled.
"Clean this up!" Both said, glaring at the other two.
"I am going to go change my shirt and when I get back this kitchen had BETTER be clean," Bilbo threatened, heading down the hall to his room.
"Have fun," said Merry, attempting to sneak out but Frodo grabbed his arm.
"Not so fast! You were part of this too!"
"Pffft."
"Boys," Bilbo called. "Stop arguing and start cleaning!"
"Yes, Bilbo!" Grumbling, Frodo threw a rag at Merry and handed Pippin the sponge. "Start cleaning."
"What are you doing to do?" Merry demanded.
"Wash the dishes."
"Okay then." The kitchen was cleaned without further major incident, except for some minor flicking of water and soapsuds in Pippin's direction, to which Frodo received a sponge to the nose. But when Bilbo walked back in twenty minutes later, the kitchen was clean, and the remaining apples were in one bowl, waiting to be sliced.
"Good thing I didn't pull out all the Gaffer's apples…" Bilbo muttered to himself. "Well, you three rascals, it's something. Now get out of here, all of you. You're more hindrance than help. I'll let you know when something's ready." Affectionately ruffling Frodo's hair, Bilbo shooed them out of the room before closing the curtain he'd recently installed over the door. The sounds of pounding could be heard from behind the curtain and Merry looked at Frodo.
"WHAT is he doing in there?"
Frodo shrugged. "Don't look at me."
"Come play chess with me," Pippin interrupted them, settling himself behind the chess board that Bilbo kept on the table. "Two out of three?"
"You still owe me from Bilbo and Frodo's birthday!" Merry said, plopping down into the other spot. Frodo sat in the middle, watching with a smile as the game began, fast and furious. And when Bilbo finally emerged from the kitchen an hour later, they were still playing.
"DIE!" Pippin shrieked when Merry made a particularly nasty move.
"EVIL!" Merry shouted back, throwing a discarded pawn across the table.
"Let's leave them to their game," Bilbo said in Frodo's ear, "and have some of that nice, warm pie."
Frodo looked up at his uncle, face shining. "They're just…" Pippin's queen flew by his face and Frodo giggled, hastily retreating with Bilbo into the kitchen as the formerly calm chess game deteriorated into a full-blown wrestling match.
"Don't break the chair!" was all Bilbo said, watching from the kitchen as the two rolled around on the floor in the next room. Over their respective pieces of pie, Frodo and Bilbo shared a laugh. "Here's hoping they never change."
"I'll eat to that." Offering a salute with his fork, Frodo shook his head at his friends. Such children, the pair of them.
But, as Bilbo often told him, a bit of playing never hurt anyone.