Going Under
Summary: Frodo deals with his parents sudden death, as a young hobbit, with the help of a newfound friend, and later, his young cousins. (Merry and Pippin, who else?)
Author's Note: Hehe, I wrote this in like... a few hours. I apparently like writing angsty stories. Little One and then Perfect (which I'm doing at the moment)... I'll attempt something else next, OK? At the moment I'm also working on Pippin's recovery after the troll 'squashed' him, but then maybe I'll try a comedy. E.g. The fellowship meets the fab five... maybe not! LOL. BTW is conspiratively a word???
I don't own Tolkien or any of his characters (sadly) and there is no mention of Mat in the family tree.
Year 1396
"Pippin? Pippin, little one, please come out." Called Frodo, smiling faintly. He couldn't help but be amused. He was on his knees, peering under Bilbo's guest bed, as his young cousin Peregrin huddled against the wall beneath it.
Bright green eyes stared back at him, and he saw the young hobbit shift slightly
"No."
"Pippin, the storm is almost over now. I think the thunder at least has finished. Won't you please come out? Bilbo has just finished baking those cookies for you." It was true: he could smell the delicious scent wafting in from the kitchen.
Again he heard Pippin shift slightly, but for a moment he still doubted that the youngster would come out. But then, after a few minutes, a dusty, disheveled figure meekly shuffled out from under the bed, and sat cowering against the sound of rain pelting at the windows.
Frodo smiled, and pulled his young relation into a comforting hug.
"There's nothing to be scared of, Pippin. It is only water, really." Pippin shivered slightly.
"What are the noises?" Pippin asked, allowing Frodo to straighten and lift him into his arms.
"Thunder? To be honest, I don't know. I do know that it has never hurt me, and is not likely ever to do so. But I used to be scared of it when I was little, just like you." Pippin cocked his head, leaning against Frodo's chest as he was carried out into the dimly lit hallway.
"You were?" Frodo nodded.
"Yes. I think thunder scares all young hobbits, at least once. I know Merry used to be scared of storms."
"Merry?" said Pippin skeptically. Frodo smiled and nodded again, as he settled down into the warm, soft armchair by the fire. Pippin curled up in his lap, yawning.
"Merry. But no longer."
"Why?"
"His father explained to him that thunder cannot hurt you, and after a while he realised that he wasn't scared anymore." Pippin yawned again, and slid his thumb into his mouth.
"Did your da tell you that too?" he mumbled, around his thumb. Frodo felt a sudden jolt, at the mention of his father. He paused for a moment, fumbling for the right words. He didn't want to think about that... not at the moment... "Frodo? Are you alright?" asked Pippin hesitantly, peering up at his cousin sleepily. Frodo nodded blankly.
"Y-yes, Pip. I was just thinking. Yes, I suppose he did." Pippin squinted.
"Did it help?"
"...It did, yes. For a while..."
"Where is your da, Frodo?" Pippin asked slowly, almost reluctantly. Frodo was almost confused by the sudden seriousness of his cousin's tone.
"Have I not told you, Pippin?" said Frodo quietly. Pippin shook his head. Frodo sighed. He had half expected Merry to have told him. How to explain... "Er... Pippin... I'm an orphan. Do you know what that is?"
"...You don't have a ma or da?" came the uncertain reply. Frodo smiled despite himself.
"Well, sort of. I have parents, or I did, but... they died when I was young, Pippin." Pippin looked away, pulling his thumb away.
"Why?" Frodo exhaled. Pippin would want to know eventually... although he had always expected that Bilbo, or Paladin, or even Merry, would be the ones to tell him: take him aside quietly and explain it. Frodo didn't mind: as long as he didn't have to do it. But looking down at his cousin he smiled briefly, and ran a hand through his curly hair.
"Do you really want to know, Pip?" Pippin nodded.
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Year 1380
"Frodo, lad, are you sure you'll be alright on your own?" called Primula concernedly, as she shrugged into her coat. Frodo smiled, rolling his eyes.
"I'll be fine, mama."
"Because we can take you along to Saradoc's place, and you can spend the afternoon there, if you would like it. Your uncle would not mind-"
"Mama..."
"Alright, alright." His mother reappeared from around the corner, and came to give him a brief hug, and a kiss on the cheek. "I'm sorry you won't come with us, Frodo. It would be a lot of fun, surely." Frodo pushed her away with a smile.
"I'd rather read this, ma." He said reassuringly, brandishing the book Saradoc had leant him. She smiled.
"You've always been a bit of a bookworm, haven't you? Well, alright, but you're missing out on a lot of fun, lad. I'll see you tonight, Frodo."
"Goodbye mama. Bye da."
...
Frodo looked out the window, frowning. It was much later than five by now, surely. Closer to seven, or eight. He sighed and pushed the book closed, and stood up. He wandered into the kitchen, and found the bread and dinner Primula had set out for him. He put the meat into the frypan, and set it over the fire, and poured a glass of water from the pitcher.
He wished his parents would return soon. He didn't mind being alone during the day, and there were plenty of relations nearby, in Brandy Hall. But he was less comfortable at night time. Especially when there was a storm. He winced as he heard a low thunder rumble, and shivered. He sat on the kitchen bench and stared into the fire, listening vainly for sounds of his parents.
After dinner, he returned to the lounge, and sat staring out into the gloom, wincing whenever thunder rumbled, or lightning lit up the black sky.
"Mama..." he whispered, clutching the soft toy bear Primula had given him as a baby. For hours he sat and waited, assuring himself they would be back... they were just running late...
...
"Frodo?" Frodo stirred, turning red, weary eyes around to the front door. It cracked open, and his Aunt Esmerelda and Uncle Saradoc entered. He gazed at them blankly, taking in their dark expressions, and Esmerelda's red, shining eyes. Esmerelda hurried to his side, and enveloped him in a tight hug. He drew back hesitantly, almost frightened by their odd behaviour.
"Aunt, uncle? What is it?" Esmerelda suddenly could not meet his eyes; her own tearing up. Saradoc came and knelt at his side, clasping his hands.
"Frodo...lad..." his voice trembled, and he tried to smile, but could not. "Your parents went boating last night,"
"Yes..."
"They were gone for some time, and everyone who knew thought they just taking their time getting back, but..." Frodo shook his head, praying he was just interpreting his uncle incorrectly.
"They... got lost, uncle?" he said with a faint smile. "Da never was much good at navigating-"
"No, Frodo, they..." Here his uncle struggled the most. "Folk down by the river found them this morning, lad. They... they are dead, Frodo." Frodo shook his head again, firmly, fear seizing him by the throat. For a moment he could not breathe...
"No, they're not-"
"Frodo," put in Esmerelda tearfully. "I'm so sorry." Frodo stared at her a moment, before looking down, and he felt himself shaking. It took him a few moments to realise he was crying. He was sobbing. He could feel Esmerelda's arms around him, hear her saying something, but the words slipped past him. All he felt was a horrific weight, pushing down upon him as he cried... he felt himself drowning...
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Chapter Two: Adjusting
Year 1396
Frodo was surprised to find himself almost in tears, thinking about it. He blinked hard, laughing softly. Pippin was looking at him concernedly. Frodo looked down as his cousin wrapped his arms around his waist, and snuggled up against him. "I'm sorry."
"Oh, what for, little one?"
"Making you cry." Frodo laughed again, tousling his hair and returning the hug.
"Pippin, you didn't make me cry. Don't worry." Pippin yawned again, but looked up at him thoughtfully.
"You must be really sad, huh Frodo?" Frodo nodded slowly.
"Yes, Pippin, sometimes."
"Did you come straight to stay with Bilbo after... that happened?"
"Well..."
Year 1382Frodo sat miserably, starring out across the fields. He pulled up the hood on his jacket, and sighed, swinging his feet slightly. He was seated on a fence post, outlining the farm land. Small, bleeting lambs dotted the long grass before him.
He ventured a look at the starry sky, but it only made him sadder. On such a night two years ago, his father would have taken him for a walk outside into the woods, with a flask of hot cocoa. The pair would sit beneath the open sky, and gaze at the bright solar-display. Many a night was spent that way.
Frodo bit his lip and blinked hard. Still it affected him. He supposed it always would, although many had reassured him that pain would ease with time. He doubted it.
"Frodo?" came a soft voice suddenly. He looked up to see Mat, a young hobbit with large, dark eyes and slender build. His new friend reminded him of himself, actually, but Mat was generally a much more cheerful sort than Frodo. Now his friend was beaming, but regarding the older hobbit carefully.
"Are you alright?"
"Fine."
"Frodo, Esmerelda just gave birth to a boy. You have a baby cousin." He said excitedly. Frodo grinned wearily, and leapt up, clapping the boy on the shoulder.
"Thank you for coming, Mat. Shall we visit them?" Mat nodded eagerly and fell into step beside him. "What is his name, do you know?"
"The mid wife told me his name was Merry- Meriadoc." He grinned sheepishly. "I almost forgot it. Don't tell your aunt." Frodo nodded, thoughtful.
"Of course not. It is a bit of a mouthful... don't tell anyone I said that." Mat laughed.
"Of course not. Are you excited?"
"Yes, yes. Perhaps when he gets a little older, we'll be friends." He suddenly looked down at the hobbit at his side, smiling ruefully. "I'm going to miss you, when you go back home." Mat nodded.
"I'm going to miss you too. I've enjoyed having someone to talk to, while da was talking to all those stuffy old... it's been fun." Frodo smiled. He ran after the young hobbit, back inside, and down the long hall way towards Esmerelda's room.
Mat bowed and left him, but Frodo was waved inside by the hobbit lass standing outside. He smiled broadly as Saradoc turned to him, holding a small bundle in his arms. He looked quickly at Esmerelda, lying tired but purely happy in the bed. She beamed at him, and gestured to the baby in Saradoc's arms.
Frodo eagerly hurried to his uncle's side, and Saradoc gently deposited his new baby cousin into his arms. Frodo sat slowly on the chair by the bed, peering into the fresh face before him. Bright blue eyes looked back at him, and the baby gurgled softly, stretching a small arm. Frodo held out his hand and Meriadoc wrapped his own fingers about Frodo's. He smiled.
"Meriadoc?" he said questioningly. Esmerelda nodded, and he was suddenly struck by how beautiful she looked, even in her fatigue.
"We decided on the name last night. We like that it shortens to 'Merry'." Frodo grinned, thinking of Mat's blunder earlier.
"Merry... that's a fine name, aunt. Hello Merry." He said softly, making faces at the baby. Esmerelda nodded, and yawned. Saradoc gently took the baby back, and placed him gently in the arms of his exhausted wife. Esmerelda smiled at him and fell instantly asleep.
Saradoc turned to Frodo, and put an arm around his shoulder, leading him outside.
"Don't think that you won't be welcome under out roof, Frodo, now that Merry is around. It would be well for him to have an older brother to look out for him, wouldn't you say?" Frodo grinned appreciatively.
"Thank you, uncle. I will certainly treat him as my own brother."
"I know you will, lad." He paused. "I hope you know that Esmerelda and I are very proud of you. You've handled... the last two years very well. I know it must be hard for you." Frodo smiled and nodded, looking away.
"Thank you for being here for me, uncle. And congratulations." Saradoc hugged him briefly before returning to his wife for the night.
Frodo found his way into the dining room, where Paladin and Mat were seated around the table, having an animated discussion about the 'old grumps' Mat's father had to deal with. They looked up as he entered, and Paladin got up to put a hand on his shoulder.
"Evening, Frodo. Seen Meriadoc yet?" Frodo nodded, suddenly feeling tired himself. Waiting all day for the baby to arrive had worn him out, but he couldn't imagine why.
"Of course. Does that make you and aunt Eglantine want to try for a boy?" he asked with a grin, winking at Mat. Paladin pretended to scowl, but led him to a seat and handed him a small mug of ale.
"Don't tell anyone." He whispered conspiratively. Frodo laughed softly. ......................................................................................................................
Chapter Three: Home
Year 1396
"You were there when Mer was born?" asked Pippin sleepily. Frodo nodded.
"Indeed I was. I was one of the first to hold him, as I was with you."
"Really?"
"Of course."
"Was I cute?" Frodo grinned at his cousin.
"Of course, Peregrin. Very cute."
"Cuter than Mer?"
"...I'm not going to argue about that." Pippin pouted slightly, but yawned again.
"Well, when did you come to live with Bilbo?"
"When Merry was seven, Bilbo came to visit us..." As he began to speak, he thought he sensed that Pippin was beginning to fall asleep again. He smiled crookedly, but kept going. He wanted to get it all off his chest before falling asleep himself.
Year 1389"Frodo, I'm bored." Frodo sighed, and rolled onto his side. Merry was sitting cross-legged besides him, and fiddling with a small, bronze ball in his lap.
"Well, think of something to do."
"There is nothing to do." He said dramatically, falling backwards onto cushions. Frodo snickered.
"There is plenty to do, Merry, you're just too lazy to do any of it." Merry scowled at him.
"Am not! Mama won't let me leave the farm, today, and you know it." Frodo shrugged. He did know it.
"Well, there is plenty to do inside the farm. Think of something." Merry put a finger to his forehead in the pretence of thinking hard. Frodo smirked.
"We could... chase the goats." Frodo shook his head.
"Merry, your da gave me explicit warnings about chasing any live stock, including the cats." Merry giggled.
"Oh yea. Then... we could... go swimming?" Frodo felt a slight jolt, but shook his head again, shrugging it away.
"No, no swimming. What else?" His cousin sighed.
"There is nothing, Frodo!" he cried, flinging the ball at the lazy, older hobbit. Frodo grinned and caught it, rolling up into a sitting position. He was about to pitch the ball back at the lad, when he heard a knock at the front door, and footsteps in the hall. Merry's face lit up excitedly.
"That must be uncle Bilbo, for your birthday tomorrow!" he giggled, jumping to his feet and disappearing around the corner. Frodo shared his cousin's enthusiasm: Bilbo was one of his favourite, adult hobbits to spent time with. The somewhat-eccentric Baggins was always fun to be around, and tended to treat Frodo and other young hobbits as friends, not children. It was especially fun around September, when both shared the same birthday: the 22nd.
He indeed found Bilbo in the hall, hugging Merry and greeting Esmerelda warmly. He glanced up to see Frodo, and grinned at the lad.
"Morning, Frodo. Are you well?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you." Bilbo set Merry back on the ground, and came to put his arm around Frodo's shoulders.
"Good, good. Now, come with me for a moment Frodo: we have something to discuss."
...
Saradoc was content to shake Frodo's hand, but Esmerelda accepted no less than a long, tight hug, and a kiss on both cheeks. Both had been more than happy, in fact excited, when Bilbo asked Frodo whether he might want to come and live in Bag End. As his heir.
Frodo had been at a loss for words.
"Wha... really?" Bilbo had laughed.
"Yes, yes. It makes sense, really. You had better come and live here, Frodo my lad, and then we can celebrate out birthday-parties comfortably together."
Bilbo had stayed behind a week extra for Frodo to get his things together, and now they were about to head home to Bag End. Home. It felt good to feel that way about a place again. Frodo looked down at Merry, surprised to find him with a glum expression on his face. He crouched at his side, and frowned.
"What's the matter, Merry?" Merry sighed.
"You're going away." Frodo smiled ruefully.
"Yes, but I'll come and visit you all the time. At least once a month. And you can visit me whenever you want to. I've already asked Bilbo... when your parents say yes, that is." He added carefully. Merry smiled and wrapped his arms around Frodo's waist.
"Thank you cousin. Do you promise you'll visit me often?"
"I promise." He replied solemnly.
"And we'll always be friends?" Frodo nodded, smiling broadly.
"Of course. Yes, we will always be friends."
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Year 1390
Frodo clenched his fists, filled with nervous excitement. All night he had been pacing back and forth in the lounge room, waiting impatiently. Merry had spent most of the night dozing, with no parents to tell him off. But now their roles had been reversed: Merry paced back and forth between the lounges, and Frodo sat watching.
He giggled slightly, berating himself. He really had no need to be nervous. But he could not help it. He wondered if he had been this nervous when Merry was born, but he couldn't remember. He had a sneaking suspicion that he had spent most of the day with Mat, to take his mind of things. That had been a smart idea.
He had been with Bilbo in Bag End almost a year now. He had honestly not felt so happy since his parents had died. He felt free, and more an adult then ever before. Not that he had not enjoyed his time in Brandy Hall, but he had no complaints about Hobbiton. He had however been slightly bemused at first by Samwise, the gardener's son. Why any young hobbit would instinctively feel inferior to him was unknown to him, but he welcomed Sam's company, in any case. He seemed to fit the gap left by the absence of Merry's constant presence. And when Merry came to visit, the three got along perfectly.
Although, somehow he doubted that Merry would be visiting Bag End quite as often now that Eglantine was expecting a new baby. He grinned at the thought. Merry being the older, responsible cousin? He watched as the lad groaned in frustration and dropped heavily onto the opposite lounge, face in hands.
"Does it always take this long?" he whined. Frodo laughed.
"No. But I think the baby must almost be here, Merry. Calm down, please!"
"I can't help it. What if it is a boy?" he said excitedly, bouncing slightly. Frodo opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off as Pimpernel suddenly ran into the room, grinning happily.
"Frodo, Merry, come and see!" she squealed, turning and disappearing around the corner again. Merry leapt up to follow, and Frodo was right behind. Bilbo, waiting outside the bedroom, waved them both in, fighting to contain a wide grin. Frodo paused by his 'uncle', looking at him questioningly.
"Is Eglantine well?" Bilbo laughed.
"Go and see, Frodo. Don't dawdle: Paladin will be chasing away all visitors soon." Frodo needed no more encouragement: he slipped in after Merry eagerly. His gaze flew to Eglantine first: he was strongly reminded of Esmerelda on Merry's birth-day. She looked beautiful, despite her roughly combed hair, and pale face, and she was smiling brilliantly. Paladin was perched on the edge of the large bed, cradling a small figure in his arms, as Merry hovered there. His cousin turned to him excitedly, pointing at the baby.
"Frodo, Frodo it's a boy!" Frodo smiled and came to Paladin's side, congratulating Eglantine as he did so. Paladin deposited the baby into Frodo's arms, and Frodo peered into his face. The baby was asleep, or looked it. It was the smallest baby he had ever seen. Merry echoed his thoughts out-loud, and Paladin laughed softly, agreeing. At the sound, the baby stirred, and opened bright blue eyes, gazing right at Frodo.
"His name is Peregrin, Frodo." Said Eglantine softly, watching them. Frodo felt a smile spread upon his face as he gazed into his new cousin's face. Peregrin giggled slightly, and closed his eyes again, falling soundly asleep nestled in Frodo's arms. Softly, he gently set Peregrin back in Eglantine's arms, and gave her a slight hug before he straightened.
Sensing that they wanted to be alone, Frodo took Merry's arm and left Paladin with his wife. Even outside, Merry was still bouncing up and down excitedly.
"He's a boy, Frodo! Not another girl!" Pearl, walking past, sniffed loudly, but they saw her grin. Frodo smiled at his cousin, and gave him a hug.
"Does that mean you have a new favourite cousin?" he asked teasingly. Merry shook his head vigourously.
"No! You'll always be my favourite cousin. Peregrin might grow up to be a little br-"
"Merry!" hissed Frodo, holding back a laugh.
"My point is, you're still my favourite cousin. Hey, maybe all three of us will be best friends, when he grows up!" Frodo smiled warmly.
"Maybe."
"Well I know one thing," said Merry cheerfully, as they walked back towards the dining room for a feed. "I don't think I'll ever forget this morning." Frodo nodded, glancing back towards the bedroom.
"I don't think I will either, Merry."
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1396
Frodo stirred, and looked down at his cousin. Pippin had long since fallen asleep, cradled in his comforting arms. Frodo's smile deepened, and he ran a hand gently through Pippin's golden curly hair, and watched as his peaceful young face tightened momentarily. At length Pippin shivered, and sighed in his sleep. Frodo sat back, gazing at the young hobbit curled up in his lap.
"Merry was right... I doubt I'll ever forget that." He murmured, looking up to see Bilbo standing in the doorway. His 'uncle' smiled faintly.
"Reminiscing?" Frodo nodded.
"Yes." He seemed unwilling to collaborate and Bilbo nodded his own head, smiling and bidding him goodnight. But first, he walked over and reached for Pippin, meaning to put him back into his own bed.
"No..." said Frodo quickly, smiling sheepishly. "I'm comfortable with him here. Leave him." Bilbo laughed softly.
"As you wish, lad. Be sure to get some rest, mind. Our birthday tomorrow." Frodo grinned sleepily. Bilbo left, and Frodo glanced back down at Pippin, still smiling vaguely.
"Thank you, Pippin." He whispered.