febobe

And another fic. . .

-Febobe

( Shattered (Rated PG) )

Yet another little fic in the Silence AU for Fanfic 100.

-Febobe

( Thirsty (Rated PG) )

Here's the next ficlet in the Frodo Fanfic100 series. Enjoy!

( Home (Rated PG) )

Here it is - for my flist, this is the same version you saw in preview; thanks so much for all your reassurance and kind words! :D *HUGS* To other readers, welcome! Hope you enjoy. :)

( Heartache (Rated PG) )

You know, I was browsing through my files and discovered this little piece based on two Shirebunnies, and I don't recall ever posting it. If I have, well, bear with me. ;) And I'll double-post it over at febobefics later, for good measure, but since most folks read here, well. . . .

( Decisions (G) )

Title: Hero
Author: Frodo Baggins of Bag End (FBoBE/"Febobe")
Genre(s): Gen, mild angst
Characters: Frodo, Eomer
Rating: G to PG
Summary: After the Quest, the new King of Rohan visits the Ringbearer. . .and discovers a heart of courage he never imagined in one so small.
Warnings: Descriptive food content. Mild angst.
Notes: The food is based upon Italian food because of JRRT's placement of Minas Tirith at the latitude of Florence (Reference: Letters of JRRT.) I hope you will pardon my liberties thus and enjoy the ficlet! Health and happiness to my very own heart of courage, dear Lorie.

"They tell me you are the Ringbearer."

"And they tell me you are the King of Rohan." The little figure looked up at Eomer through the largest blue eyes the Rohirric man had ever seen, politely gesturing for him to take a seat beside the bed. "Would you like anything? I am sure they could bring something up - "

"No, thank you." Indeed, watching the tiny hobbit eat was enough to put anyone off his food for a month. Before Frodo sat an enormous tray set with every kind of dish imaginable - creamy mushroom soup, fried sage leaves, lemon chicken salad, batter-fried shrimp, chicken with mushrooms, green bean salad, mushroom ravioli in butter and sage sauce, honeydew in mint syrup, white peaches in sweet sparkling dessert wine, pears with warm chocolate sauce, and strawberry tirithmist. . .not to mention white wine and fresh water to accompany the lot. But Frodo was eating, working his way methodically through the dishes, and apparently enjoying himself considerably, so Eomer settled back in his chair and attempted not to notice.

"What did you wish to see me about? I've had lots of visitors, but this is the first time you have come to see me." Frodo looked up at him with curiousity. "They say you are the Lady Eowyn's brother; is that not so?"

"Indeed it is." Eomer blushed slightly; the whole city knew of his sister's exploits, and he was proud, though his heart still ached for her.

"She is very kind. Sometimes she comes and sits with me. We talk." Frodo ventured another mouthful of lemon chicken salad, following that with a sip of wine.

Eomer could not help but smile. "What do you two find in common to talk about?"

At once Frodo's eyes widened. "A great deal. She killed the - the one who wounded me at Weathertop, you know - no, I expect you wouldn't, perhaps." Sighing, he set down his fork, looking a little pale. Cautiously he pulled the left side of his night-shirt open to expose an eerie scar, cold-looking and large on his small body. "There. That was where he stabbed me. It was October sixth. Rather a long story, which I would prefer not to tell at length for now."

Eomer took in the scar, swallowing back a breath as he noticed others. . .an ugly, still-healing scar along the back, sides, and front of the Ringbearer's throat, apparently from a chain. . .whip-weals along the top of Frodo's shoulders, extending on down, no doubt. . . . Wincing, he nodded. "And yet I understand that the Council at which you - agreed - to take this thing to the Fires of Doom took place afterward?"

Frodo nodded, reaching for one of the batter-fried shrimp and munching on it, blue eyes never leaving Eomer's face.

"I failed," he whispered a moment later. "I was to carry it all the way to the Fires of Doom, and when I reached them. . . ."

Eomer cut off his words.

"The mark of a hero is not that he reaches his goal, Frodo. A hero is one who simply tries. . .and you gave all you had. Even after you had already suffered greatly."

"But - "

Eomer shook his head gently, reaching to put a hand over Frodo's. "You are a hero, Frodo. Never mistake your strength of heart for anything less."

~the end~