Title: Hungry
Author: Frodo Baggins of Bag End (FrodoAtBagEnd/Febobe)

E-mail: febobe at yahoo dot com

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Aragorn. (Others to appear later.)
Rating: PG. This story falls within the guidelines of the FrodoHealers group in both letter and spirit, free from profanity or sexual content.

Feedback: Welcomed. Constructive only, please. . .no flaming.

Summary: After their rescue, Aragorn wants Frodo and Sam to only gradually return to eating solid food - but the appetites of hobbits will not be denied.

Story Notes/Announcements: A baby plot bunny from Shirebound's hutch, its tiny nose still wet, fed on lots of carrots and lettuces and love.

A special note for those concerned: it has been -weeks- since Frodo and Sam were rescued. That's why our little hobbit heroes are getting so tired of their liquid diet:)

My apologies for the delay in posting; ff dot net had some uploading problems for me that prevented my getting this chapter posted!

For permission to reproduce any part of this fanfic, please contact febobe at yahoo dot com.

DISCLAIMER: The characters, places, and story of The Lord of the Rings are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and consequently of the Tolkien Estate, with select rights by Tolkien Enterprises. This piece appears purely as fanfiction and is not intended to claim ownership of Tolkien's work in any way. Please e-mail me if you have concerns. Original characters presented are my own work; please do not use my creations in your work. Please respect my original contributions. Furthermore, please do NOT consider any treatments or remedies within this story safe or effective for use: these are included as fictitious hobbit care, not real human medical practice, and while some can indeed be traced to actual therapeutic practices, could be dangerous. Please consult your health care professional before treating yourself or others for any condition or symptom.

HUNGRY

Part IV: Frodo

"Now, sir - "

"Don't "sir" me, Sam."

Settling me more closely in his arms, Aragorn sighed. "Frodo, there is no need to be cranky."

I took advantage of the opportunity to jab him sharply in the ribs with my elbow.

A grim set of his lips was the only answer.

Good.

We crossed into the Princes' Garden, which was indeed, I supposed, beautiful enough, but which might have been bleak and grey rather than bright and green for all I cared at that moment. Leading us to the waiting blankets and pallet, Aragorn put me down. Gingerly enough, though I might add I would gladly have been dropped had it meant I could have something decent to eat.

"Now. . .enjoy your luncheon," a contradiction in terms if ever I heard one! I could hear Bilbo snort, "and Lady Eowyn and Lord Faramir shall return you to Frodo's room when they arrive. They have been told that you will be taking the sun here this afternoon and will need to be taken in after your meal."

"Thank you, sir." Sam's voice seemed lifeless.

I said nothing. Rude, I know, but I felt utterly ill beyond words, achy and miserable with my stomach growling impatiently at me. When he left I did not even look up, preferring to roll up in my blankets.

And thus it was that I at first smelled rather than saw it.

The Gondorian cooks had a peculiar way of seasoning roasted legs of chicken: exotic spices were often used for the royal court and in the marketplace, so that a rich mahogany fragrance of ginger perfumed the air. . . .

As it did now.

And strawberries!

Yes, I could distinctly detect the delicate scent of strawberries as well. . . .

Turning to look, I discovered that Faramir and Eowyn were settling softly some respectful - not respectful enough, mind you - distance away - with. . .

. . .their very own picnic-hamper.

I couldn't help it.

I wept.

Not without going red, I'm sure, for what grown hobbit cries like a fauntling with a skinned knee?

A starving one, that's whom.

Embarrassed, I turned away to hide my tears. . .but the Lady Eowyn outmatched me in speed, something I had not estimated, and looked up.

"Frodo? What is the matter? Are you in pain?"

I shook my head, unable to answer, curling up with my face away. A moment later, I felt deliciously comfortable hands against my brow, and I confess that I lay still for her rather than pulling away.

"Hm! You don't feel overheated or feverish - "

"Begging your pardon, Lady - "

Dear Sam.

"But it's that he's - well, King Aragorn, he - I reckon he's worried about us, doesn't want us moving back onto solid food too soon, or anything that might do us injury, so - it's a right light diet for a hobbit, and poor Mr. Frodo's plumb wore through with hunger."

I felt as if I might die from humiliation.

That is, if my face didn't burn away from scorching humiliation first.

"Is that so?"

Lady Eowyn settled beside me, and I peered out from beneath the blanket, eyeing her with no small amount of trepidation. But she smiled kindly, as did Faramir, who came to join her.

"We mean you no harm, Frodo."

"Which is more than I can say for Aragorn."

Three of us looked at Lady Eowyn in utter astonishment. She shrugged.

"Pish! What's all this nonsense? Unless either of you have something you need to tell me, it has been - oh, weeks now since your return to us, and then you were living on rations not sufficient to keep a bird alive! Come now." And she gathered me up, motioning to Sam and Faramir to follow us to - their basket? "Time to remedy this. We'll have to be careful, now, and I'd rather give you different things later, but for now. . . ."

She began taking out such a splendid spread as even no hobbit could dream: roast chicken, jam sandwiches, leftover roast chicken and turkey and beef sandwiches, stuffed eggs, plain boiled eggs, assorted miniature pies (both savoury and sweet), bread and honey, biscuits (called cookies in the Shire) - again, both sweet and savoury). . . . They had even brought some lemonade out with them. . . .

Dear, dear Sam.

Ah, Eowyn. . .perhaps the rest of the day might not be so dismal after all.

-to be continued-