A/N This would be my second LoTR fic, hopefully its liked o.O
I would like reviews flames are welcomed too.
ANYWAY Im sure you don't want my chatter, so on with the story!
Disclaimer- Once again, I'm JRR Tolkien who died 30 years ago and has been resurrected to right this fiction..NOT! Im a 14 year old girl with to much time on her hands and no life to speak of therefore I do not own any characters you recognize the only thing I own in the process is my own thought process, but sometimes I don't even know about that...o.O
Chappter1: Picking up the Pieces
Numb, the only word to describe the terrible feeling coursing through him, the world seemed a terrible dream he longed to rouse up from. The day's events ran through his head like a violent river, threatening to overpower him,
Dead
Burning liquid rose in his eyes, threatening to spill over onto his overly pale cheeks, the conversation burned deep into the four year olds memory forever to remain painful to him.
"Frodo?" A soft voice said touching his shoulder and drawing his attention away from
the tower that he was intent upon building from delicately carved building blocks, made
for him by his father for his fourth birthday. Innocent azure eyes gazed at the strange
man, curious as to who he was.
"Wes?" Frodo said sweetly, the man gazed sadly at the child, his wise eyes tinted with despair. Kneeling beside the toddler he laid a gentle hand on Frodo's shoulder.
"Frodo, do you remember your parents leaving with a tiny boat this morning?" nodding profusely, the four year old recalled the wooden tub looking contraption his parents had taken to the river.
"Wes sir, Mama said dat day would be back by lunch dough," Frodo said. The old man pulled the hobbit into his lap sighing wearily.
"I'm afraid Frodo, you Mama and Papa won't be coming back" Blue met blue, confusion contorting the four year olds face.
"Sir, Mama pwomised she dun NEVER break her promises. Why she not comin back?" the graying man held Frodo close, his flowing silver beard tickling the toddlers stomach.
"Frodo, do you remember Little Suzy Proudfoot?" Frodo nodded "Remember what happened to her, do you remember why she's not with her Mama and Papa any longer?"
"Mama said Suzy goes to the stars!" Frodo whispered "She says that the stars took her 'cause she was so's sick."
"Well Frodo, I'm afraid the stars decided to take your Mama and Papa to join Suzy, you see my dear hobbit they are no longer with us, their boat turned upside down and they drowned, you know what drowned means right Little one?"
'Right... right..' the words echoed around Frodo's mind, his eyes no longer holding back the
waves of tears. Yes, he had knew drowned, he knew it meant his parents would not come
back to him, it meant he would never hear his mother sing gentle lullabies to him or learn
to climb the highest tree with his father.
A soft breeze ruffled his chocolate brown curls, brushing them into his
swollen eyes. Tears of grief fell to the browning grasses of Brandy hall, the eyes from
whence the tears came were focused solely on the quickly running river cutting through
the landscape, separating the tangled forest from the sweeping meadows and farms.
Pushing himself from the muddy ground, the toddler ran to the rivers edge, glaring in
hatred at the shimmering glass like surface of the water. Pain and rage coursed through
every branch of his little body, his mouth opened letting out and anguished howl . The
small hobbit hit and kicked the water, churning up silt and tadpoles,
releasing the frustration he held from the phony sympathy, and the pity- filled glances
from strangers who cared little for his parents deaths, pretending to be troubled so
they could receive something of the late husband and wives'.
A cheerless laugh from a stand of trees pulled him away from his outburst, an older man
dressed in a bright red vest, white blouse and emerald green slacks stood leaning against
a tree watching the hobbit-lad with sad and curious eyes.
"My dear Little Frodo, I do believe the water is not to blame for you pain my boy so attempting to destroy it with your fists and feet are a useless endeavor" Icily the little hobbit called out
"Dis water stoled my Mama and Papa from me! Nows you deave me 'lone and go on tending to care bout dem like everbo'y else" the man again chuckled softly
"I've no fake pity or remorse for you my boy, 'tis all real I'm afraid," Carefully, the man
slid down the beside Frodo as stared down at the churning foam and clear water,
tears sliding down his soft cheeks and into the rolling river producing insignificant
ripples . The man studied the young hobbit for a moment wheels of thought turning
behind his eyes, eyes which, though young in appearance, held pools of wisdom, of failed
dreams and successful endeavors, and of the worst pain and most breathtaking joy. Pain
laced his demeanor at the moment and he took the young ones' hand.
"Frodo lad, you will be given to a new family who will care for you, it won't be the same as your parents of course but there will be a roof above your scraggly head, and mushrooms on your dinner plate. Your parents left you all of their possessions, I had little doubt they wouldn't. Now though the pilfers are after custody for you, so they can get their filthy paws on your Mama and Papa's riches and treasures. The choice, my lad, of who your to stay with is your own so choose wisely. Wolves lie among the best of Hobbits" The hobbit laid back, closing his eyes against the piercing sunshine.
Shaking from the tip of his curls to his tiny feet, Frodo sobbed into his arms. The pain had grown while the old hobbit spoke, every emotion bottled up within him burst out in the forms of wracking sobs, and silent teardrops. The toddler felt someone wrap their arms around him and rock him slowly, murmuring a soft song in his ear.
"Dry your tears my child,
End your trembling cries
For the wind wafts good, and the sun lights dark.
The stars smile down upon you,
Dry your tears my child
The world has yet to end
Sleep in hope that the heavens shall not bend
Dry your tears my child
Quell your silent fears
Beauty is around you, beauty is in your tears
Dry your tears my child
For I will not away
I am here my darling, so let no tears fall longer."
Quieted by the sweet lullaby, Frodo clutched his and around the soft white shirt , not realizing it was the old man who rocked him, who held him in a safe and secure embrace. Red, the color of his mothers soft hair, filled his senses as the last of his tears stained the brilliant cloth.
"There now, no more tears it would sadden your parents to see you in such a dreadful state on their account. I would know, as your father was my eldest brother." A soft, yet sad, smile curled his lips.
"Twell me a 'tory 'bout my Papa, pwease sir?" A calloused hand ruffled Frodo's soft curls
"Course my boy, I can think of no better medicine for sorrow then a story. Well, why not he story of when your father got him self stuck in the party tree in Hobbiton. WE were not a lot older then you when."
The two hobbits, young and old, sat curled beside that river until the the moon bowed
her shining head above the mountain side, and Frodo's steady breaths indicated his
dreaming state. Chuckling softly, the elderly hobbit lifted the child into his arms,
returning him to his bed.
"I shall take him! He is, after all, *my* nephew" The old Brandybuck argued to the elderly took, both Hobbits were, of course, fighting over the placement of the little Frodo Baggins who at he present, lay wrapped in warm quilts and pleasant dreams. Watching quietly, the old man sat in a rickety chair in the corner smoking a pipe. The normally comforting, wise eyes burned with sadness and anger as he watched the exchange between the two old hobbits.
"He is *my* nephew as well Ill have you remember, closer a cousin to me then you, you old ninnyhammer" Took snapped icily. "therefore he shall come with me, I'll not have you interfere" The old hobbit could take no more, flying from his seat he shot daggers at the two adults.
"Neither of you shall take him without his consent, it is *his* choice with whom he lives, and from the likes of your bickering I'd give neither of you a glance were I him."
"Swir?" a shaky voice whispered. Crying silent tears in the oblong doorway, was little Frodo Baggins clutching a ragged cotton blanket to his chest. "Im sowee I made everbo'y fuss" pitifully he turned his cobalt eyes on the old Hobbit, who's heart wrenched at the sad sight of the little one. Crossing the room swiftly, he lifted the child into his arms.
"No sorry's Me boy, it's not your fault you're an adorable little child. Why, these fine hobbits want to take you into their homes, your quiet a popular little hobbit Frodo Baggins" The blue eyes were now trained on the hobbit men behind the old man
"Are day, de woffies dat want Mama and papa's tweasures?" The man laughed
"Why Frodo-lad, such a memory you have for one so young. No these are not the wolves, I promise and I can tell. Living alone, with no visitors but those who are unwelcome and trying to wrench something from you teaches a lot don't you know." The Hobbit's sapphire eyes widened shocked.
"'Ou's gots no one neither?" Frodo asked shocked "But's you's a growed up! Don't 'ou got babies and a babies mama?" The man chuckled touching Frodo's little nose
"Not a sole but me self and the occasional welcomed visitor. Now, I believe we have talked enough about me, you must make your choice, where do you want to go to live?" The little ones eyes looked up at him, intrigued at the older hobbit.
"W'as you nam'?" Frodo asked, the man smiled
"Bilbo, but you should call me uncle Bilbo my boy." The old took huffed impatiently
"Come, boy choose who are you staying with?" Frodo looked away from Bilbo's Jolly
face and comforting chocolate eyes, into the cold faces of his other uncles, the uncles he
had known since birth. Now, however, their generally warm eyes held only bitterness.
Neither pair, green or hazel, held the warm, comfort, or wisdom of his uncle Bilbo's. His
heart grieved for his Mama and Papa, tears slid down his cheeks once, the stony stares
told him of a life with out comfort, without stories, without love. A gentle hand wiped the
tears from his pale cheek, his sapphire eyes looked into the gentle smile of his uncle.
Hesitantly, Frodo wrapped his short arms around the stout and wrinkly neck of his uncle.
"Can-can I wive wit 'ou 'ncle Belbo?" A chorus of angry roars startled the hobbit to tears again, tears which now were buried in the crook of Bilbo Baggins neck.
Angry with Took and Brandybucks behavior, Bilbo silenced them with a single harsh
look, cradling the shaking child against his breast. Curly, chocolate hair fell upon Bilbo's
cheek, it was matted and caked with dirt such as a toddler-hobbits hair should. Examining the child from Frodo's position in his arms, Bilbo observed several scabs and bruises, the mark of a fun-loving and joyous child. However, when he initially saw they bright blue eyes of the boy he could see nothing but anger and pain, pain no child should endure. The song that calmed Frodo the day before passed his lips softly, once again silencing the boys' sobs.
"Of course you can come to Bag End with me my dear little hobbit, nothing could give me more joy." The lad pulled away gazing at Bilbo wondrously through watery blue eyes.
"Weally 'ncle Beblo?! Pwomise?" blue searched Hazel, finding warmth like a peaceful flame.
"Promise, go get your things together you'll need immediately. We'll leave soon as you like." Virtually bursting with joy, the four year leapt from Bilbo's grasp, bounding into his room to collect his belongings. Whistling happily, Bilbo smiled at the two disgruntled hobbits and walked away, a hop in his step as his thoughts drifted to the adorable little boy with sparkling azure eyes.
I would like reviews flames are welcomed too.
ANYWAY Im sure you don't want my chatter, so on with the story!
Disclaimer- Once again, I'm JRR Tolkien who died 30 years ago and has been resurrected to right this fiction..NOT! Im a 14 year old girl with to much time on her hands and no life to speak of therefore I do not own any characters you recognize the only thing I own in the process is my own thought process, but sometimes I don't even know about that...o.O
Chappter1: Picking up the Pieces
Numb, the only word to describe the terrible feeling coursing through him, the world seemed a terrible dream he longed to rouse up from. The day's events ran through his head like a violent river, threatening to overpower him,
Dead
Burning liquid rose in his eyes, threatening to spill over onto his overly pale cheeks, the conversation burned deep into the four year olds memory forever to remain painful to him.
"Frodo?" A soft voice said touching his shoulder and drawing his attention away from
the tower that he was intent upon building from delicately carved building blocks, made
for him by his father for his fourth birthday. Innocent azure eyes gazed at the strange
man, curious as to who he was.
"Wes?" Frodo said sweetly, the man gazed sadly at the child, his wise eyes tinted with despair. Kneeling beside the toddler he laid a gentle hand on Frodo's shoulder.
"Frodo, do you remember your parents leaving with a tiny boat this morning?" nodding profusely, the four year old recalled the wooden tub looking contraption his parents had taken to the river.
"Wes sir, Mama said dat day would be back by lunch dough," Frodo said. The old man pulled the hobbit into his lap sighing wearily.
"I'm afraid Frodo, you Mama and Papa won't be coming back" Blue met blue, confusion contorting the four year olds face.
"Sir, Mama pwomised she dun NEVER break her promises. Why she not comin back?" the graying man held Frodo close, his flowing silver beard tickling the toddlers stomach.
"Frodo, do you remember Little Suzy Proudfoot?" Frodo nodded "Remember what happened to her, do you remember why she's not with her Mama and Papa any longer?"
"Mama said Suzy goes to the stars!" Frodo whispered "She says that the stars took her 'cause she was so's sick."
"Well Frodo, I'm afraid the stars decided to take your Mama and Papa to join Suzy, you see my dear hobbit they are no longer with us, their boat turned upside down and they drowned, you know what drowned means right Little one?"
'Right... right..' the words echoed around Frodo's mind, his eyes no longer holding back the
waves of tears. Yes, he had knew drowned, he knew it meant his parents would not come
back to him, it meant he would never hear his mother sing gentle lullabies to him or learn
to climb the highest tree with his father.
A soft breeze ruffled his chocolate brown curls, brushing them into his
swollen eyes. Tears of grief fell to the browning grasses of Brandy hall, the eyes from
whence the tears came were focused solely on the quickly running river cutting through
the landscape, separating the tangled forest from the sweeping meadows and farms.
Pushing himself from the muddy ground, the toddler ran to the rivers edge, glaring in
hatred at the shimmering glass like surface of the water. Pain and rage coursed through
every branch of his little body, his mouth opened letting out and anguished howl . The
small hobbit hit and kicked the water, churning up silt and tadpoles,
releasing the frustration he held from the phony sympathy, and the pity- filled glances
from strangers who cared little for his parents deaths, pretending to be troubled so
they could receive something of the late husband and wives'.
A cheerless laugh from a stand of trees pulled him away from his outburst, an older man
dressed in a bright red vest, white blouse and emerald green slacks stood leaning against
a tree watching the hobbit-lad with sad and curious eyes.
"My dear Little Frodo, I do believe the water is not to blame for you pain my boy so attempting to destroy it with your fists and feet are a useless endeavor" Icily the little hobbit called out
"Dis water stoled my Mama and Papa from me! Nows you deave me 'lone and go on tending to care bout dem like everbo'y else" the man again chuckled softly
"I've no fake pity or remorse for you my boy, 'tis all real I'm afraid," Carefully, the man
slid down the beside Frodo as stared down at the churning foam and clear water,
tears sliding down his soft cheeks and into the rolling river producing insignificant
ripples . The man studied the young hobbit for a moment wheels of thought turning
behind his eyes, eyes which, though young in appearance, held pools of wisdom, of failed
dreams and successful endeavors, and of the worst pain and most breathtaking joy. Pain
laced his demeanor at the moment and he took the young ones' hand.
"Frodo lad, you will be given to a new family who will care for you, it won't be the same as your parents of course but there will be a roof above your scraggly head, and mushrooms on your dinner plate. Your parents left you all of their possessions, I had little doubt they wouldn't. Now though the pilfers are after custody for you, so they can get their filthy paws on your Mama and Papa's riches and treasures. The choice, my lad, of who your to stay with is your own so choose wisely. Wolves lie among the best of Hobbits" The hobbit laid back, closing his eyes against the piercing sunshine.
Shaking from the tip of his curls to his tiny feet, Frodo sobbed into his arms. The pain had grown while the old hobbit spoke, every emotion bottled up within him burst out in the forms of wracking sobs, and silent teardrops. The toddler felt someone wrap their arms around him and rock him slowly, murmuring a soft song in his ear.
"Dry your tears my child,
End your trembling cries
For the wind wafts good, and the sun lights dark.
The stars smile down upon you,
Dry your tears my child
The world has yet to end
Sleep in hope that the heavens shall not bend
Dry your tears my child
Quell your silent fears
Beauty is around you, beauty is in your tears
Dry your tears my child
For I will not away
I am here my darling, so let no tears fall longer."
Quieted by the sweet lullaby, Frodo clutched his and around the soft white shirt , not realizing it was the old man who rocked him, who held him in a safe and secure embrace. Red, the color of his mothers soft hair, filled his senses as the last of his tears stained the brilliant cloth.
"There now, no more tears it would sadden your parents to see you in such a dreadful state on their account. I would know, as your father was my eldest brother." A soft, yet sad, smile curled his lips.
"Twell me a 'tory 'bout my Papa, pwease sir?" A calloused hand ruffled Frodo's soft curls
"Course my boy, I can think of no better medicine for sorrow then a story. Well, why not he story of when your father got him self stuck in the party tree in Hobbiton. WE were not a lot older then you when."
The two hobbits, young and old, sat curled beside that river until the the moon bowed
her shining head above the mountain side, and Frodo's steady breaths indicated his
dreaming state. Chuckling softly, the elderly hobbit lifted the child into his arms,
returning him to his bed.
"I shall take him! He is, after all, *my* nephew" The old Brandybuck argued to the elderly took, both Hobbits were, of course, fighting over the placement of the little Frodo Baggins who at he present, lay wrapped in warm quilts and pleasant dreams. Watching quietly, the old man sat in a rickety chair in the corner smoking a pipe. The normally comforting, wise eyes burned with sadness and anger as he watched the exchange between the two old hobbits.
"He is *my* nephew as well Ill have you remember, closer a cousin to me then you, you old ninnyhammer" Took snapped icily. "therefore he shall come with me, I'll not have you interfere" The old hobbit could take no more, flying from his seat he shot daggers at the two adults.
"Neither of you shall take him without his consent, it is *his* choice with whom he lives, and from the likes of your bickering I'd give neither of you a glance were I him."
"Swir?" a shaky voice whispered. Crying silent tears in the oblong doorway, was little Frodo Baggins clutching a ragged cotton blanket to his chest. "Im sowee I made everbo'y fuss" pitifully he turned his cobalt eyes on the old Hobbit, who's heart wrenched at the sad sight of the little one. Crossing the room swiftly, he lifted the child into his arms.
"No sorry's Me boy, it's not your fault you're an adorable little child. Why, these fine hobbits want to take you into their homes, your quiet a popular little hobbit Frodo Baggins" The blue eyes were now trained on the hobbit men behind the old man
"Are day, de woffies dat want Mama and papa's tweasures?" The man laughed
"Why Frodo-lad, such a memory you have for one so young. No these are not the wolves, I promise and I can tell. Living alone, with no visitors but those who are unwelcome and trying to wrench something from you teaches a lot don't you know." The Hobbit's sapphire eyes widened shocked.
"'Ou's gots no one neither?" Frodo asked shocked "But's you's a growed up! Don't 'ou got babies and a babies mama?" The man chuckled touching Frodo's little nose
"Not a sole but me self and the occasional welcomed visitor. Now, I believe we have talked enough about me, you must make your choice, where do you want to go to live?" The little ones eyes looked up at him, intrigued at the older hobbit.
"W'as you nam'?" Frodo asked, the man smiled
"Bilbo, but you should call me uncle Bilbo my boy." The old took huffed impatiently
"Come, boy choose who are you staying with?" Frodo looked away from Bilbo's Jolly
face and comforting chocolate eyes, into the cold faces of his other uncles, the uncles he
had known since birth. Now, however, their generally warm eyes held only bitterness.
Neither pair, green or hazel, held the warm, comfort, or wisdom of his uncle Bilbo's. His
heart grieved for his Mama and Papa, tears slid down his cheeks once, the stony stares
told him of a life with out comfort, without stories, without love. A gentle hand wiped the
tears from his pale cheek, his sapphire eyes looked into the gentle smile of his uncle.
Hesitantly, Frodo wrapped his short arms around the stout and wrinkly neck of his uncle.
"Can-can I wive wit 'ou 'ncle Belbo?" A chorus of angry roars startled the hobbit to tears again, tears which now were buried in the crook of Bilbo Baggins neck.
Angry with Took and Brandybucks behavior, Bilbo silenced them with a single harsh
look, cradling the shaking child against his breast. Curly, chocolate hair fell upon Bilbo's
cheek, it was matted and caked with dirt such as a toddler-hobbits hair should. Examining the child from Frodo's position in his arms, Bilbo observed several scabs and bruises, the mark of a fun-loving and joyous child. However, when he initially saw they bright blue eyes of the boy he could see nothing but anger and pain, pain no child should endure. The song that calmed Frodo the day before passed his lips softly, once again silencing the boys' sobs.
"Of course you can come to Bag End with me my dear little hobbit, nothing could give me more joy." The lad pulled away gazing at Bilbo wondrously through watery blue eyes.
"Weally 'ncle Beblo?! Pwomise?" blue searched Hazel, finding warmth like a peaceful flame.
"Promise, go get your things together you'll need immediately. We'll leave soon as you like." Virtually bursting with joy, the four year leapt from Bilbo's grasp, bounding into his room to collect his belongings. Whistling happily, Bilbo smiled at the two disgruntled hobbits and walked away, a hop in his step as his thoughts drifted to the adorable little boy with sparkling azure eyes.