Chapter 2: Of Hobbit Opinions, Elven Thoughts and the Man in the Middle

Disclaimer: These character's and places are all property of Tolkien Estates, Tolkien Enterprises, and New Line Cinema. Not me. So there.

A/N: Just a friendly reminder that Frodo Baggins has left for the Havens as a Ringbearer quite a number of years before this story takes place. The Frodo mentioned in the following story (unless otherwise specified) is Frodo Gamgee, Samwise Gamgee's second child and first son. Frodo Gamgee was also referred to as "the gardener" which will come into play during this story.

________________________________________

Rosie hurried down the corridor, the feeling of stone underneath her feet still strange and foreign to her. Personally she preferred the wooden floors of the Shire, but she could see a few advantages to stone. They were hard to think of when she first managed to climb down from the bed to hop across the floor to a carpet, of course, but things like that were bound to happen in a city of shoe-wearing folk. At least Elanor and Sam were enjoying themselves.

"Frodo!" Rosie called, "Frodo, where are you?"

She was hurrying down the hall leading to the Queen's Garden, knowing full well that if Frodo was missing that was where he would have headed. Sometimes she felt that his hands were as much in the dirt as his father's.

Suddenly the doors opened, revealing the twin elven-lords coming through, one of them holding the young heir-prince of Gondor. They seemed to be laughing quietly to themselves over some jest. Rosie paused, unsure of what to do. They solved the problem by coming right over to her. The one not holding the child gave her a deep bow and the one who was gave her something between a bow and a deep nod. Rosie gave a quick curtsy back.

"We beg your pardon, Lady Rosie, but we must return this young prince to his mother to be made ready for his tonight's feast," the one holding Eladarion said.

Rosie opened her mouth, furiously trying to come up with an answer that would sound right and proper, and to her horror, found the hobbit in her speaking out.

"Well I should say so! If you ask me, a young 'un such as him shouldn't even be awake at that hour! But if he must, best to be in his mother's arms. Males can never be expected to care for a child at an important time." Then, realizing who she was talking to, she tried to repair the damage, "Leastwise, Sam never could." Rosie felt herself blushing furiously. To make such a blunder in front of an elf-lord! Two of them, at that!

The one not holding the prince seemed to take her seriously. "We will be sure to present your opinions to the queen."

If anything, Rosie blushed harder. "No need to do that," she said hurriedly. "The queen's likely very busy and-"

The elf waved away her protests. "No, I insist," he said courteously, and with a quick bow, he and his brother turned and continued down the hall.

After a moment, Rosie continued walking toward the garden, feeling the color slowly leaving her cheeks as she berated herself.

.

"Acting that way to two elven-lords! What would Mother say if she saw me now? I've wrecked it for Elanor, no doubt. And Sam will be-"

Then she caught sight of the king hurrying down the hallway toward her, his hair looking as if it had been hastily pulled back, then half falling into disarray again. There were leaves clinging to his clothing.

He paused for a moment next to Rosie, panting slightly. "Where…?" He asked, his meaning clear. Rosie silently pointed down the hall after the two elves. He gave her a grateful look and hurried down the corridor after them.

Rosie once again continued down the hallway, shaking her head. She would never understand the world of the Big Folk.

Rosie walked out into the garden "Frodo! Frodo, lad, where are you?! You're not to appear before the whole court covered in the dirt of a garden, Queen's though it may be."

Frodo crawled out from under a bush he and his father had planted. "I was checking the roots, Mother. Have to make sure they set in the earth proper and-"

"And now you're covered in the earth that should be on the roots? Never mind, we need you to look more like a hobbit-lad and less like a bush by the time the feast starts. We just have to hope that Sam and Elanor are both ready or I don't know what we'll do!"

"Yes, Mother," Frodo said, recognizing when to be quiet and submissive and hope everything worked out for his mother. Rosie sighed.

"Well, come on then, we have to get those leaves out of your hair. You're starting to look like the king of Gondor." Frodo followed his mother, slightly confused. Perhaps he should have begun to prepare when Elanor told him to.

******

Queen Arwen paced around her room, giving an occasional worried glance at the door. She should never have entrusted Eldarion to her brothers. Not that he wasn't safe, but if he wasn't back soon, it would be too late to properly prepare him for the feast. For that matter, where was her husband? No doubt he would run in at the last moment, covered in dirt and sweat, completely unaware of the state of his clothes. Arwen sighed. There were disadvantages to marrying someone who had spent much of his life in the in the wilderness. It was easy to forget that he had been raised among elves when he came back from one of his adventures-

A knock sounded on the door. Arwen rushed over and tore the door open. Elladan and Elrohir were carrying her missing son.

Elrohir gave a deep bow. "We apologize for the delay in the delivery of your son, Lady Arwen," he explained gravely, "but it appears your King needs to sharpen his hunting skills, for he did not discover us until a few moments ago."

Arwen sighed and snatched Eldarion from her brother's arms. Eldarion grinned and made a grab at her necklace. Its shiny jewels glinted temptingly at him. Arwen caught his hand before it reached the treasure it sought as she headed toward the nursery. The twins followed her, continuing to list the various skills the king seemed to have lost somewhere between the last time they had come and now.

"…and he needs to learn how to run faster again. Years of living is such a restricted environment seems to have slowed him down," Elladan continued from his previous rant.

"I completely agree. And did you notice how he slipped during the mock battles in the courtyard yesterday?" Elrohir added.

"Disgraceful! And how he…."

Arwen rolled her eyes as she pulled Eldarion's clothes off him and dropped them on a chair. The fact that the ground had been wet and muddy from one of the stable boys' use of a water bucket didn't seem to concern them. She dropped Eldarion into a tub that had been waiting for him for quite a while, but as water temperature rarely seemed to concern him, the lukewarm bath hardly seemed to matter.

"Don't you have a feast to prepare for?" she snapped at her brothers as she rolled up her sleeves to clean Eldarion.

Elladan stopped midway through his rant and seemed to ponder her suggestion. "Yes, perhaps we should show that some sons of Elrond are capable of presenting themselves properly," he concluded, and he and Elrohir swept out of the room.

Arwen sighed again as she began to vigorously scrub her son. Sometimes she wondered how Aragorn had come out the way he was, being raised by her older brothers. Eldarion looked up at her through wide eyes, for once not splashing and playing as he was apt to. He seemed to recognize that his mother was not presently in the mood to deal with him, and he seemed to finally show some of that quiet patience that elven children naturally displayed.

Just as she pulled Eldarion out of the quickest bath he had ever taken, her husband burst into her room.

"Where are Elladan and Elrohir?" he demanded, seemingly unaware of the present state of his clothes and hair.

"In their rooms, preparing for the feast. Something you should have been doing long ago." Arwen answered, wiping the water off Eldarion with a towel.

Aragorn blinked, then his eyes widened. He turned and raced toward the bathing-room. After a few moments Arwen could hear him tearing off his clothes and then sliding into the bath. Then she heard the yelp of a man who has just discovered that his bath has been waiting for him for far too long.

Arwen smiled and dressed Eldarion. She emerged from the nursery to see her husband with a towel wrapped around his waist, squeezing water from his hair. No doubt that had been one of the quickest baths he had ever taken as well.

"That was cold," he said accusingly as Arwen set Eldarion on their bed and headed toward the wardrobe to find some clothes for her husband to don. Aragorn could rarely be trusted to pick clothes that complimented hers, which was necessary when they sat next to each other in public, as they would at the feast. "You could have at least warned me," her disgruntled husband continued as he grabbed another towel and began to dry the rest of himself.

"That would spoil the enjoyment of hearing the king of Gondor shrieking like a barmaid," Arwen replied serenely, showing an amazing likeness to her maternal grandmother.

"Sometimes you remind me too much of Elladan and Elrohir," Aragorn muttered as he pulled his pants from her hands and put them on. Eldarion watched this all with wide eyes and one thumb firmly fixed into his mouth.

Arwen picked her son and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Aragorn demanded as he pulled on his tunic.

"I have a feast to attend," Arwen answered. "I would advise you to do the same as soon as possible." Then she walked out and firmly pulled the door closed behind her.

Aragorn looked at the door and sighed. His entire family seemed to be abandoning him today. He walked over to the dresser and grabbed his brush. Might as well arrive before his subjects appearing as though he'd had some preparation for this feast.

____________________

A/N: Rosie can't tell the difference between Elladan and Elrohir. In fact, many people can't tell the difference between the twins. It may cause some confusion later on. And I am once again teasing Aragorn about his hair. Poor Aragorn. Wandering around with the Dunedain didn't give him the best training in appearances. No one cares about how you look when you're slaughtering orcs.