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b2memB2MeM Challenge: I18, Aspects of Aragorn (Healer)
Format: Ficlet
Title: The Hands of a Healer
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Rating: G/K
Warnings: None
Characters: Frodo, Aragorn
Pairings: N/A
Summary: After the attack on Weathertop, "Strider" tends to the injured Frodo.
The pain seemed unbearable. Frodo groaned, caring little for how he seemed to Strider...it hurt, hurt beyond all words, and he felt he must have release, such little as he could find.
"I know it hurts."
Strider's voice was gentle as he bent over Frodo, though the hobbit wondered what he would do. What on earth could be done to ease such pain, out here in the wilderness?
"I have found something to help you," Strider murmured, holding close to his nose a few leaves of some strange plant. He bruised them with his fingers, and they released a fragrance like Frodo had never smelled before...what the Sea must smell like, Frodo imagined, and like fresh air on a crisp autumn morning, a healthful and bracing scent.
"Sam, pour the hot water into your pot, please."
Into the steaming water Strider cast the bruised leaves, and the fragrance wafted forth, stronger than ever, intensified fifty, no, a hundred times.
"Breathe deeply, Frodo. As deeply as you can bear. It will grow easier."
Frodo did his best and found that Strider was correct. Each breath seemed to come with less pain, the sensation dulling a little with each intake of the sweet air. The shadows about him seemed to lessen, to diminish. He looked into Strider's face with as much astonishment as his companions.
"How...how did you know?"
Strider smiled a little, though the expression seemed tinged with sorrow.
"My foster-father, Lord Elrond, taught me much of healing. The leaves are called kingsfoil, or athelas. They were sown in this country by the kings of old, many ages past. It is well that they grow here still." He began to wring out a cloth in the heated water. "Rest, Frodo, while I bathe your wound."
Frodo closed his eyes. He felt strangely safe even in this dangerous, wild land. Strider would care for him. Strider would make him feel better.
-the end-
B2MeM Challenge: I18, The Eligible Bachelor Baggins (explores the Shire)
Format: Ficlet
Title: Be Careful What You Wish For
Genre: Gen/Angst
Rating: G/K
Warnings: Mildly sad
Characters: Frodo, two elven OCs (Meril and Lomendil)
Pairings: N/A
Summary: Frodo knows what he wishes for most...or does he?
"This is called the Woody End by most Shirefolk - well, all of us, probably. I don't know anyone who doesn't call it Woody End."
Meril laughed, a musical sound like the pealing of small bells. "What of your towns, young Master Baggins? Tell us of those. I have never dared approach lest I frighten you little folk."
Frodo smiled, taking some more of the dried apples he had set out for Meril, Lomendil, and himself to enjoy. "Well, there are some nearer, but I hail from Hobbiton, a rather sleepy little town even by our standards. The nearest places to have bite and sup are in nearby Bywater, the Green Dragon and the Ivy Bush. The Green Dragon has the best beer around, but the Ivy Bush makes the best mushroom pies. We have Hobbiton Market, and a little bakery where I got this bread, and a butcher's, and a few other small shops. Nothing to speak of, but we rather like it."
"But you," Lomendil said with a mischievous grin, "prefer to travel."
"I like to explore." Frodo sliced off a bit more cheese and a piece of bread. "Bilbo and I used to go tramping all over the Shire, into Buckland, where I spent most of my early years, and everywhere we could think of. Not that we ever left the Shire, mind...but Bilbo said perhaps someday I shall have the chance. I rather hope that I do. It is nice here, but...I know the Shire inside and out, now, and I would like to know the rest of the world a little better."
Meril's grey eyes dimmed. "Frodo, have you ever heard someone say that you must be careful what you wish?"
Frodo nodded. "More than once."
"I would advise you of that in this regard. I do not wish to offer ill news, but..." She sighed. "Your path shall, I deem, take you far from home, and there will be days ahead when you long to see your hearth and home more than aught else in the world."
Frodo said nothing, but listened, and pondered her words.
-the end-
Format: Ficlet
Title: The Hands of a Healer
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Rating: G/K
Warnings: None
Characters: Frodo, Aragorn
Pairings: N/A
Summary: After the attack on Weathertop, "Strider" tends to the injured Frodo.
The pain seemed unbearable. Frodo groaned, caring little for how he seemed to Strider...it hurt, hurt beyond all words, and he felt he must have release, such little as he could find.
"I know it hurts."
Strider's voice was gentle as he bent over Frodo, though the hobbit wondered what he would do. What on earth could be done to ease such pain, out here in the wilderness?
"I have found something to help you," Strider murmured, holding close to his nose a few leaves of some strange plant. He bruised them with his fingers, and they released a fragrance like Frodo had never smelled before...what the Sea must smell like, Frodo imagined, and like fresh air on a crisp autumn morning, a healthful and bracing scent.
"Sam, pour the hot water into your pot, please."
Into the steaming water Strider cast the bruised leaves, and the fragrance wafted forth, stronger than ever, intensified fifty, no, a hundred times.
"Breathe deeply, Frodo. As deeply as you can bear. It will grow easier."
Frodo did his best and found that Strider was correct. Each breath seemed to come with less pain, the sensation dulling a little with each intake of the sweet air. The shadows about him seemed to lessen, to diminish. He looked into Strider's face with as much astonishment as his companions.
"How...how did you know?"
Strider smiled a little, though the expression seemed tinged with sorrow.
"My foster-father, Lord Elrond, taught me much of healing. The leaves are called kingsfoil, or athelas. They were sown in this country by the kings of old, many ages past. It is well that they grow here still." He began to wring out a cloth in the heated water. "Rest, Frodo, while I bathe your wound."
Frodo closed his eyes. He felt strangely safe even in this dangerous, wild land. Strider would care for him. Strider would make him feel better.
-the end-
B2MeM Challenge: I18, The Eligible Bachelor Baggins (explores the Shire)
Format: Ficlet
Title: Be Careful What You Wish For
Genre: Gen/Angst
Rating: G/K
Warnings: Mildly sad
Characters: Frodo, two elven OCs (Meril and Lomendil)
Pairings: N/A
Summary: Frodo knows what he wishes for most...or does he?
"This is called the Woody End by most Shirefolk - well, all of us, probably. I don't know anyone who doesn't call it Woody End."
Meril laughed, a musical sound like the pealing of small bells. "What of your towns, young Master Baggins? Tell us of those. I have never dared approach lest I frighten you little folk."
Frodo smiled, taking some more of the dried apples he had set out for Meril, Lomendil, and himself to enjoy. "Well, there are some nearer, but I hail from Hobbiton, a rather sleepy little town even by our standards. The nearest places to have bite and sup are in nearby Bywater, the Green Dragon and the Ivy Bush. The Green Dragon has the best beer around, but the Ivy Bush makes the best mushroom pies. We have Hobbiton Market, and a little bakery where I got this bread, and a butcher's, and a few other small shops. Nothing to speak of, but we rather like it."
"But you," Lomendil said with a mischievous grin, "prefer to travel."
"I like to explore." Frodo sliced off a bit more cheese and a piece of bread. "Bilbo and I used to go tramping all over the Shire, into Buckland, where I spent most of my early years, and everywhere we could think of. Not that we ever left the Shire, mind...but Bilbo said perhaps someday I shall have the chance. I rather hope that I do. It is nice here, but...I know the Shire inside and out, now, and I would like to know the rest of the world a little better."
Meril's grey eyes dimmed. "Frodo, have you ever heard someone say that you must be careful what you wish?"
Frodo nodded. "More than once."
"I would advise you of that in this regard. I do not wish to offer ill news, but..." She sighed. "Your path shall, I deem, take you far from home, and there will be days ahead when you long to see your hearth and home more than aught else in the world."
Frodo said nothing, but listened, and pondered her words.
-the end-
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