FIC: "Winter" (PG-13, 1/?) by Febobe
Sep. 15th, 2011 06:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
febobeA summary for those wondering whether they'll enjoy this: Aragorn stops at Bilbo's one Shire winter, and meets a loving family...only to face the fight of his life when their little son, Frodo, falls gravely ill.
Title: Winter
Author: Frodo Baggins of Bag End (FBoBE/"Febobe")
Rating: PG-13 for angst and some medically graphic content in later chapters
Warnings: Angst and medically graphic content to come, lots of food detail and cuddling
Summary: Aragorn stops at Bilbo's one Shire winter, and meets a loving family...only to face the fight of his life when their little son, Frodo, falls gravely ill.
Notes: Inspired by a LilyBaggins plotbunny she donated to me at my request - "I would LOVE to read a fic like "Counterpane" with a very young Frodo being cared for by Aragorn. That is, Frodo is a child... and maybe a healer-ranger drops into Brandy Hall for some reason (bad weather, etc.) or is called upon by Gandalf in an epidemic... or maybe he stops by Bag End when Frodo is visiting (since Frodo should be a lot younger than 21)." LB, here you go...more to come! Hope this gives you a little something to enjoy tonight! :)
CHAPTER ONE
Aragorn smiled as he caught sight of the familiar round green door up ahead. Bag End. Home of one "burglar," Bilbo Baggins, the little hobbit whom Aragorn had encountered while the party of mostly dwarves visited Rivendell many years earlier, and who had been kind enough to host him more than once during his travels through the Shire. Bilbo had become a good friend over the years, and when in the area, Aragorn enjoyed stopping in Hobbiton for a visit, though he was aware that he raised more than a few eyebrows among the small folk of the Shire, so large as he seemed to them, and strange too, at least by hobbit standards.
But now, with winter sitting heavily upon the landscape, he could not worry how many tongues would wag about him tonight. The first snow of the season had fallen, and the countryside was blanketed in soft white. It was a night he would prefer not to sleep outdoors, and there was no need, if Bilbo was home, as he usually was. A parlor-floor sounded far preferable to his usual place beneath a tree, for it was very cold, and rapidly growing colder. Snow was still falling, and did not look to stop any time soon.
At the door to Bag End, he knocked firmly, knowing Bilbo might well be busy in the kitchen, for it was past tea-time by hobbit standards, and getting on toward supper. What he did not expect, however, was the individual that greeted him as the door swung open.
A small hobbit stood there, a young child by the look of him, with dark curls and enormous blue eyes. He was quite fair-skinned, and looked even smaller for his unusual thinness, at least for one of his kind, though the tiny feet were covered with a light dusting of curly hair, and unmistakably hobbit in nature. His eyes grew larger and larger as they gazed up at the Ranger.
"Hello," said Aragorn, hoping a smile would not frighten the little lad. "Is Mr. Bilbo Baggins at home?"
The little one blinked, then turned and began to shout. "Uncle Bilbo! Uncle Bilbo! There's someone big at the door for you!"
At once Bilbo came trundling down the hall, moving as fast as his legs would carry him. "Ah! Dunadan! Come in, come in! It's all right, Frodo; this is one of my friends, the Dunadan, which means Man of the West in the elves' language. I do apologise," he added to Aragorn. "My cousins are visiting, with their little one, and I'm afraid he's never actually seen anyone as large as you up close, except Gandalf once or twice."
Aragorn stepped inside with a chuckle. "So I noticed! How old is he?"
"Eight years, on my birthday this autumn. We share a birthday, don't we, Frodo-lad?" Bilbo ruffled the child's hair affectionately, and the little one giggled. "Come and meet my cousins, won't you? Supper's almost ready; I'll have Primmy lay an extra plate."
"Are you certain I'm not putting you out? I won't have any hobbits going without seconds on my account." Aragorn winked.
Bilbo snorted. "Fiddlesticks! I fed thirteen hungry dwarves and one wizard on short notice; I can surely manage to feed one Ranger. Now come down and meet my cousins before you go and wash up, else Frodo will be in there telling them all about you first."
Sure enough, the tiny hobbit had already scampered down the hall, calling, "Mamma! Mamma! Guess who's here?"
"I suppose I had better," Aragorn agreed. "Lead the way!"
The kitchen of Bag End was as warm and homey as ever, and Aragorn felt immediately glad that he had come. A fire blazed merrily in the hearth, and the wonderful aromas of fine hobbit cooking came wafting from the stove, where a ladyhobbit stood, stirring a pot of soup - mushroom, Aragorn guessed by the smell.
She would have been lovely by any standard, but among hobbits she was as beautiful as a diamond in a field of stones, with ringlet dark curls partially tied up with a bright blue ribbon, and the same large blue eyes as tiny Frodo. It was easy to see whose child this was, Aragorn mused. At a sideboard stood another hobbit, a fellow with thick chestnut curls and a merry manner - her husband, Aragorn guessed. He was deeply involved in slicing a meatloaf into thick, neat pieces. As Aragorn entered, the ladyhobbit nearly dropped the spoon, wide-eyed, but she broke into a smile.
"Who's this, Bilbo - another of your adventurous friends?"
The one slicing meatloaf turned, wiping his hands on a small towel. "Well, well!" he said with a grin. "Good evening, sir!"
"This is my friend Estel, as they call him in Rivendell - though I believe his true name is Aragorn." Bilbo looked up at him. "Do you have a preference?"
"Aragorn will be fine, my friend." Aragorn smiled. "And who are these fine folk?"
Frodo ran and hid behind his mother's apron, peeking out from behind with curious bright eyes, and Bilbo laughed. "Well, you've already met our Frodo, and this is his mother, Mrs. Primula Baggins, though most of us call her Primmy. And this is her husband, Mr. Drogo Baggins."
"A pleasure." Aragorn bowed, rising carefully so as not to back into the entrance and bump his head. "Are you certain you don't mind company for dinner?"
"Not as long as you wash up first." Primula gave a merry laugh. "There's always room for a guest! We're having something simple; I hope you won't mind. If I'd known there would be company, I'd have made something more elaborate."
"Believe me, anything will taste delicious after the days I've spent in the wilderness," Aragorn said with a grin. "Until you've had bread and jerky and dried fruit for a month, you don't know how wonderful plain hobbit food tastes."
Three pairs of eyes went wide as saucers.
"A month?!?" exclaimed Primula. "Goodness, you must be positively starving! Frodo, be a good lad and lay him a plate. Fork, knife, and spoon, just the way Mamma taught you."
Frodo ran off to the sink, where dishes had been laid out freshly washed and dried, and returned with a plate and silverware.
"Come, and I'll show you where you can wash," said Bilbo. "They'll have it on the table any moment now, so you'd best hurry! We've been working ever since tea-time to get things ready, and Primmy's mushroom meat-loaf is not a thing to miss."
Aragorn laughed. "Show me, old friend, so we won't delay dinner. I would fear for my life if I made hobbits late for a meal!"
-to be continued-
Title: Winter
Author: Frodo Baggins of Bag End (FBoBE/"Febobe")
Rating: PG-13 for angst and some medically graphic content in later chapters
Warnings: Angst and medically graphic content to come, lots of food detail and cuddling
Summary: Aragorn stops at Bilbo's one Shire winter, and meets a loving family...only to face the fight of his life when their little son, Frodo, falls gravely ill.
Notes: Inspired by a LilyBaggins plotbunny she donated to me at my request - "I would LOVE to read a fic like "Counterpane" with a very young Frodo being cared for by Aragorn. That is, Frodo is a child... and maybe a healer-ranger drops into Brandy Hall for some reason (bad weather, etc.) or is called upon by Gandalf in an epidemic... or maybe he stops by Bag End when Frodo is visiting (since Frodo should be a lot younger than 21)." LB, here you go...more to come! Hope this gives you a little something to enjoy tonight! :)
CHAPTER ONE
Aragorn smiled as he caught sight of the familiar round green door up ahead. Bag End. Home of one "burglar," Bilbo Baggins, the little hobbit whom Aragorn had encountered while the party of mostly dwarves visited Rivendell many years earlier, and who had been kind enough to host him more than once during his travels through the Shire. Bilbo had become a good friend over the years, and when in the area, Aragorn enjoyed stopping in Hobbiton for a visit, though he was aware that he raised more than a few eyebrows among the small folk of the Shire, so large as he seemed to them, and strange too, at least by hobbit standards.
But now, with winter sitting heavily upon the landscape, he could not worry how many tongues would wag about him tonight. The first snow of the season had fallen, and the countryside was blanketed in soft white. It was a night he would prefer not to sleep outdoors, and there was no need, if Bilbo was home, as he usually was. A parlor-floor sounded far preferable to his usual place beneath a tree, for it was very cold, and rapidly growing colder. Snow was still falling, and did not look to stop any time soon.
At the door to Bag End, he knocked firmly, knowing Bilbo might well be busy in the kitchen, for it was past tea-time by hobbit standards, and getting on toward supper. What he did not expect, however, was the individual that greeted him as the door swung open.
A small hobbit stood there, a young child by the look of him, with dark curls and enormous blue eyes. He was quite fair-skinned, and looked even smaller for his unusual thinness, at least for one of his kind, though the tiny feet were covered with a light dusting of curly hair, and unmistakably hobbit in nature. His eyes grew larger and larger as they gazed up at the Ranger.
"Hello," said Aragorn, hoping a smile would not frighten the little lad. "Is Mr. Bilbo Baggins at home?"
The little one blinked, then turned and began to shout. "Uncle Bilbo! Uncle Bilbo! There's someone big at the door for you!"
At once Bilbo came trundling down the hall, moving as fast as his legs would carry him. "Ah! Dunadan! Come in, come in! It's all right, Frodo; this is one of my friends, the Dunadan, which means Man of the West in the elves' language. I do apologise," he added to Aragorn. "My cousins are visiting, with their little one, and I'm afraid he's never actually seen anyone as large as you up close, except Gandalf once or twice."
Aragorn stepped inside with a chuckle. "So I noticed! How old is he?"
"Eight years, on my birthday this autumn. We share a birthday, don't we, Frodo-lad?" Bilbo ruffled the child's hair affectionately, and the little one giggled. "Come and meet my cousins, won't you? Supper's almost ready; I'll have Primmy lay an extra plate."
"Are you certain I'm not putting you out? I won't have any hobbits going without seconds on my account." Aragorn winked.
Bilbo snorted. "Fiddlesticks! I fed thirteen hungry dwarves and one wizard on short notice; I can surely manage to feed one Ranger. Now come down and meet my cousins before you go and wash up, else Frodo will be in there telling them all about you first."
Sure enough, the tiny hobbit had already scampered down the hall, calling, "Mamma! Mamma! Guess who's here?"
"I suppose I had better," Aragorn agreed. "Lead the way!"
The kitchen of Bag End was as warm and homey as ever, and Aragorn felt immediately glad that he had come. A fire blazed merrily in the hearth, and the wonderful aromas of fine hobbit cooking came wafting from the stove, where a ladyhobbit stood, stirring a pot of soup - mushroom, Aragorn guessed by the smell.
She would have been lovely by any standard, but among hobbits she was as beautiful as a diamond in a field of stones, with ringlet dark curls partially tied up with a bright blue ribbon, and the same large blue eyes as tiny Frodo. It was easy to see whose child this was, Aragorn mused. At a sideboard stood another hobbit, a fellow with thick chestnut curls and a merry manner - her husband, Aragorn guessed. He was deeply involved in slicing a meatloaf into thick, neat pieces. As Aragorn entered, the ladyhobbit nearly dropped the spoon, wide-eyed, but she broke into a smile.
"Who's this, Bilbo - another of your adventurous friends?"
The one slicing meatloaf turned, wiping his hands on a small towel. "Well, well!" he said with a grin. "Good evening, sir!"
"This is my friend Estel, as they call him in Rivendell - though I believe his true name is Aragorn." Bilbo looked up at him. "Do you have a preference?"
"Aragorn will be fine, my friend." Aragorn smiled. "And who are these fine folk?"
Frodo ran and hid behind his mother's apron, peeking out from behind with curious bright eyes, and Bilbo laughed. "Well, you've already met our Frodo, and this is his mother, Mrs. Primula Baggins, though most of us call her Primmy. And this is her husband, Mr. Drogo Baggins."
"A pleasure." Aragorn bowed, rising carefully so as not to back into the entrance and bump his head. "Are you certain you don't mind company for dinner?"
"Not as long as you wash up first." Primula gave a merry laugh. "There's always room for a guest! We're having something simple; I hope you won't mind. If I'd known there would be company, I'd have made something more elaborate."
"Believe me, anything will taste delicious after the days I've spent in the wilderness," Aragorn said with a grin. "Until you've had bread and jerky and dried fruit for a month, you don't know how wonderful plain hobbit food tastes."
Three pairs of eyes went wide as saucers.
"A month?!?" exclaimed Primula. "Goodness, you must be positively starving! Frodo, be a good lad and lay him a plate. Fork, knife, and spoon, just the way Mamma taught you."
Frodo ran off to the sink, where dishes had been laid out freshly washed and dried, and returned with a plate and silverware.
"Come, and I'll show you where you can wash," said Bilbo. "They'll have it on the table any moment now, so you'd best hurry! We've been working ever since tea-time to get things ready, and Primmy's mushroom meat-loaf is not a thing to miss."
Aragorn laughed. "Show me, old friend, so we won't delay dinner. I would fear for my life if I made hobbits late for a meal!"
-to be continued-
