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b2memB2MeM Prompt and Path:“That’s the advantage of insomnia. People who go to bed early always complain the night is too short, but for those of us who stay up all night, it can feel as long as a lifetime. You get a lot done.” Banana Yoshimoto - Purple
Format:scenelette
Genre:Gen
Rating:Gen
Warnings:None
Characters:Frodo Baggins, Rose Gamgee
Pairings:none
Creator’s Notes (optional):none
Summary:A late night conversation over tea.
I don't own anything. These characters just climbed out of JRR Tolkien's work one day and have been scrambling about in my mind, causing chaos, ever since.
Tea At Midnight
Sam and Rose followed the Shire tradition of going to bed with the sun and rising with the lark and Frodo envied them their untroubled rest. He had discovered that his own was hard won and safer taken in short naps during the daylight hours. Whilst devoid of voices, the night was crowded with memories that scratched at the windows and rumbled across the chimney pot. He preferred to spend his nights sitting in his study by the light of a blazing fire and several candles.
He glanced up from his writing now, to greet his own visage reflected in the window, and surprised himself with a smile as he remembered Bell Gamgee placing a single candle in her kitchen window on winter evenings to guide Hamfast home. Bilbo often used to gift the Gamgee's with a dozen fine beeswax candles, knowing that tallow was sometimes all they could afford. Bilbo himself had been quite extravagant with candles and whenever Frodo smelled honey he was reminded of evenings with his uncle, pouring over some ancient half translated text. The memories themselves were not what drew his smile, but rather the joy of being able to recall them, for there was a time when he had thought them lost forever.
His gaze dropped to the page before him with it's scattered fringe of papers. These were his own notes and needed no translation, other than that required from mind to hand. Merry and Pippin's reports were not required for this part of the tale, which was a blessing for Merry's hand was careless to say the least.
He was considering again whether to give the Mountains of Shadow their correct name, Ephel Duath, when a distant hiccup announced the awakening of little Elanor. He paused, as he always did when he heard that humble reminder that life went on. The hiccup was followed by a thin wail and Rose's murmured reply. Frodo set down his pen. Sometimes Rose fed her daughter in bed but more often, of late, she had taken to padding about the smial. He suspected she was keeping an eye on him and yet it did not offend, but rather made him feel cherished. Sure enough, a few minutes later, he heard the soft open and close of the bedroom door followed by the slap of bare feet on bare tile.
“Hello, Mr Frodo. Still writin' I see. Do you fancy a cup of tea?” Rose appeared in the doorway, hair unbound and with her daughter at her breast, cradled beneath her shawl.
Frodo smiled, slipping from his chair to usher her toward the kitchen. “I'll make it, Rose. You have your hands full.”
Rose's answering grin was brighter than any rack of candles. “Bless you, Sir. But I've 'come to be a dab hand at doin' stuff one handed of late. Ely don't take kindly to waitin' while I fill a kettle.”
“Let me help this time. You and Sam look after me all day and even I know how to make a pot of tea.” Frodo poked the banked range into life and carried their big black kettle to the pump. “I expect you'll be glad once Elanor no longer needs feeding during the night.”
“I'll not deny I miss the sleep but I'd not miss this special time with her. Soon enough she'll be feedin' herself.” Rose settled herself at the table, tweaking her shawl to smile down at her babe, who was grunting contentedly, one tiny hand kneading at her mother's breast as she suckled.
Frodo set the filled kettle upon the range and began collecting tea things. “It is a beautiful time for any family,” he offered wistfully, as he set out two of the kitchen mugs. Since Rose and Sam had moved in they had reached an accommodation . . . cups and saucers in the main rooms but mugs in the kitchen. If Frodo had his way he would have been happy with mugs in any room but Rose would not hear of it, insisting that Bag End demanded certain standards.
Rose watched as he collected the milk jug from the pantry. “Ain't you never wanted this for yourself?” she asked, nodding to the bundle cradled in the crook of her arm.
For some time Frodo only arranged crockery but when he ran out of things to do he sat down opposite her. Used by now to his considered silences, Rose waited but she was surprised to see his eyes misty when he finally met her gaze, and he had to clear his throat before speaking.
“I have always loved faunts. In Brandy Hall there were many and I used to volunteer to keep them amused. Then came Merry followed by Pippin. I once looked forward to having babies of my own one day, dreaming of showing them the Shire as Bilbo did for me or sitting them on my lap to read them stories.” He glanced down at his hands, folded upon the table, and lifted his right to display the three fingers. “But this put an end to such dreams.”
Rose's eyes widened. “Why ever do you say that, Mr Frodo? Tis only a finger. You're not givin' credit to the lasses if you think that. Tis a poor one who would be put off by a missing finger. You're a good catch and if you need Bag End to yourself you've only to say. Me and Sam will find somewhere else to live easy enough. I reckon the Gaffer would love to have us.”
Frodo smiled gently. “I would never dream of turning you and Sam out of Bag End. The fault doesn't lie with them but with me.” He paused a moment, turning to check the progress of the kettle before continuing. “I know Sam has told you about our journey but, knowing him, I suspect he has protected you from the worst of it.”
Elanor shuffled and Rose rearranged her clothing before switching her daughter to the other breast. “I asked him not to leave out anythin' but I expect you're right. I do know your poor body took an awful beatin'.”
Frodo shook his head. “If only that were all.” He paused a moment to consider how best to explain to someone who had never come in contact with 'magic'. “Do you believe that there is more to a person than their body?”
“Aye. Of course. There's somethin' inside of the body. I've heard you and Sam call it a fae but I just call it a person's heart. It's what moves everythin' else, just like a real heart moves the blood.” She nodded toward the range. “The kettle's boiled.”
Frodo stood, taking a cloth from the shelf to lift the kettle from the heat and pouring a little of the water into the teapot, swirling it before tipping it into the sink and returning to the table. “That's a good way of putting it, Rose. Well, Lord Sauron's ring did something to my heart.” He measured tea into the pot and added the boiling water. “When he made his ring he put some of his 'heart' into that ring. I don't know how.” He shuddered. “When I wore that ring his heart touched mine and his was totally evil.” He sat down, pouring milk into their mugs.
Rose's eyes widened. “Then why ever did you put it on?”
Frodo allowed himself a wry smile. “At first I didn't understand how it worked. Then, as we drew closer to the dark lands, it seemed that I did not even need to put it on for it to work its evil upon me.” He ran hands over his face before drawing a deep breath. “It seemed to twine itself about my fae and when the ring was destroyed it took some of me with it.”
Rose frowned. “But you don't seem no different. A bit wiser and more generous than you was, I hear. Not that you wasn't both of those before,” she hastened to add. “And a deal softer than is good for you some would say.”
Frodo poured the tea, pushing a mug across the table to her, along with the honey pot. “Definitely wiser I think. Does that make me softer? I don't know. Perhaps, having faced my own failings, I'm more willing to accept them in others.” He stirred his tea and raised it to his nose to appreciate its sharp fragrance.
Rose stirred in some honey and then took a sip from her own mug. “I still don't see how that means you can't get wed and be a da.”
Frodo sighed. “I'm tired, Rose. Oh, I try to hide it but I just don't have the strength to win a maid and bring up fauntlings. Not just the physical strength. You've seen me when the memories overtake me. It's my fae that is weak. I wouldn't have the strength to nourish their minds and hearts as I should and that would be unfair to them.”
“You've always got time for Ely. She loves her Uncle Frodo.” Rose sensed Elanor falling from her breast and glanced down to see that she had drifted into contented asleep. She adjusted her gown and wrapped her daughter more closely within the shawl.
Frodo managed a genuine smile this time. “It's easier if I know I can hand her back when I've given all I can. Parents don't have that option.”
“I sometimes wish for that too,” Rose replied with a half smile. Then she stood, coming around to his side of the table and reaching down to deposit her daughter into Frodo's surprised arms. “I don't reckon I'll ever understand you, but you should have some time with Ely at least.”
“Thank you.” His smile softened as he stroked the golden fuzz on Elanor's head. If only he could be as content as she.
Rose's dimples appeared. “Aye. Well I need the privy. Tis all this sippin' tea at midnight. You can help me change her when I come back. Or you could just hand her back,” she added with a twinkle.
She bent to kiss Elanor's head and then, to Frodo's continued surprise, dropped a kiss on his crown too, a mother's benediction,before leaving the room.
END
Format:scenelette
Genre:Gen
Rating:Gen
Warnings:None
Characters:Frodo Baggins, Rose Gamgee
Pairings:none
Creator’s Notes (optional):none
Summary:A late night conversation over tea.
I don't own anything. These characters just climbed out of JRR Tolkien's work one day and have been scrambling about in my mind, causing chaos, ever since.
Tea At Midnight
Sam and Rose followed the Shire tradition of going to bed with the sun and rising with the lark and Frodo envied them their untroubled rest. He had discovered that his own was hard won and safer taken in short naps during the daylight hours. Whilst devoid of voices, the night was crowded with memories that scratched at the windows and rumbled across the chimney pot. He preferred to spend his nights sitting in his study by the light of a blazing fire and several candles.
He glanced up from his writing now, to greet his own visage reflected in the window, and surprised himself with a smile as he remembered Bell Gamgee placing a single candle in her kitchen window on winter evenings to guide Hamfast home. Bilbo often used to gift the Gamgee's with a dozen fine beeswax candles, knowing that tallow was sometimes all they could afford. Bilbo himself had been quite extravagant with candles and whenever Frodo smelled honey he was reminded of evenings with his uncle, pouring over some ancient half translated text. The memories themselves were not what drew his smile, but rather the joy of being able to recall them, for there was a time when he had thought them lost forever.
His gaze dropped to the page before him with it's scattered fringe of papers. These were his own notes and needed no translation, other than that required from mind to hand. Merry and Pippin's reports were not required for this part of the tale, which was a blessing for Merry's hand was careless to say the least.
He was considering again whether to give the Mountains of Shadow their correct name, Ephel Duath, when a distant hiccup announced the awakening of little Elanor. He paused, as he always did when he heard that humble reminder that life went on. The hiccup was followed by a thin wail and Rose's murmured reply. Frodo set down his pen. Sometimes Rose fed her daughter in bed but more often, of late, she had taken to padding about the smial. He suspected she was keeping an eye on him and yet it did not offend, but rather made him feel cherished. Sure enough, a few minutes later, he heard the soft open and close of the bedroom door followed by the slap of bare feet on bare tile.
“Hello, Mr Frodo. Still writin' I see. Do you fancy a cup of tea?” Rose appeared in the doorway, hair unbound and with her daughter at her breast, cradled beneath her shawl.
Frodo smiled, slipping from his chair to usher her toward the kitchen. “I'll make it, Rose. You have your hands full.”
Rose's answering grin was brighter than any rack of candles. “Bless you, Sir. But I've 'come to be a dab hand at doin' stuff one handed of late. Ely don't take kindly to waitin' while I fill a kettle.”
“Let me help this time. You and Sam look after me all day and even I know how to make a pot of tea.” Frodo poked the banked range into life and carried their big black kettle to the pump. “I expect you'll be glad once Elanor no longer needs feeding during the night.”
“I'll not deny I miss the sleep but I'd not miss this special time with her. Soon enough she'll be feedin' herself.” Rose settled herself at the table, tweaking her shawl to smile down at her babe, who was grunting contentedly, one tiny hand kneading at her mother's breast as she suckled.
Frodo set the filled kettle upon the range and began collecting tea things. “It is a beautiful time for any family,” he offered wistfully, as he set out two of the kitchen mugs. Since Rose and Sam had moved in they had reached an accommodation . . . cups and saucers in the main rooms but mugs in the kitchen. If Frodo had his way he would have been happy with mugs in any room but Rose would not hear of it, insisting that Bag End demanded certain standards.
Rose watched as he collected the milk jug from the pantry. “Ain't you never wanted this for yourself?” she asked, nodding to the bundle cradled in the crook of her arm.
For some time Frodo only arranged crockery but when he ran out of things to do he sat down opposite her. Used by now to his considered silences, Rose waited but she was surprised to see his eyes misty when he finally met her gaze, and he had to clear his throat before speaking.
“I have always loved faunts. In Brandy Hall there were many and I used to volunteer to keep them amused. Then came Merry followed by Pippin. I once looked forward to having babies of my own one day, dreaming of showing them the Shire as Bilbo did for me or sitting them on my lap to read them stories.” He glanced down at his hands, folded upon the table, and lifted his right to display the three fingers. “But this put an end to such dreams.”
Rose's eyes widened. “Why ever do you say that, Mr Frodo? Tis only a finger. You're not givin' credit to the lasses if you think that. Tis a poor one who would be put off by a missing finger. You're a good catch and if you need Bag End to yourself you've only to say. Me and Sam will find somewhere else to live easy enough. I reckon the Gaffer would love to have us.”
Frodo smiled gently. “I would never dream of turning you and Sam out of Bag End. The fault doesn't lie with them but with me.” He paused a moment, turning to check the progress of the kettle before continuing. “I know Sam has told you about our journey but, knowing him, I suspect he has protected you from the worst of it.”
Elanor shuffled and Rose rearranged her clothing before switching her daughter to the other breast. “I asked him not to leave out anythin' but I expect you're right. I do know your poor body took an awful beatin'.”
Frodo shook his head. “If only that were all.” He paused a moment to consider how best to explain to someone who had never come in contact with 'magic'. “Do you believe that there is more to a person than their body?”
“Aye. Of course. There's somethin' inside of the body. I've heard you and Sam call it a fae but I just call it a person's heart. It's what moves everythin' else, just like a real heart moves the blood.” She nodded toward the range. “The kettle's boiled.”
Frodo stood, taking a cloth from the shelf to lift the kettle from the heat and pouring a little of the water into the teapot, swirling it before tipping it into the sink and returning to the table. “That's a good way of putting it, Rose. Well, Lord Sauron's ring did something to my heart.” He measured tea into the pot and added the boiling water. “When he made his ring he put some of his 'heart' into that ring. I don't know how.” He shuddered. “When I wore that ring his heart touched mine and his was totally evil.” He sat down, pouring milk into their mugs.
Rose's eyes widened. “Then why ever did you put it on?”
Frodo allowed himself a wry smile. “At first I didn't understand how it worked. Then, as we drew closer to the dark lands, it seemed that I did not even need to put it on for it to work its evil upon me.” He ran hands over his face before drawing a deep breath. “It seemed to twine itself about my fae and when the ring was destroyed it took some of me with it.”
Rose frowned. “But you don't seem no different. A bit wiser and more generous than you was, I hear. Not that you wasn't both of those before,” she hastened to add. “And a deal softer than is good for you some would say.”
Frodo poured the tea, pushing a mug across the table to her, along with the honey pot. “Definitely wiser I think. Does that make me softer? I don't know. Perhaps, having faced my own failings, I'm more willing to accept them in others.” He stirred his tea and raised it to his nose to appreciate its sharp fragrance.
Rose stirred in some honey and then took a sip from her own mug. “I still don't see how that means you can't get wed and be a da.”
Frodo sighed. “I'm tired, Rose. Oh, I try to hide it but I just don't have the strength to win a maid and bring up fauntlings. Not just the physical strength. You've seen me when the memories overtake me. It's my fae that is weak. I wouldn't have the strength to nourish their minds and hearts as I should and that would be unfair to them.”
“You've always got time for Ely. She loves her Uncle Frodo.” Rose sensed Elanor falling from her breast and glanced down to see that she had drifted into contented asleep. She adjusted her gown and wrapped her daughter more closely within the shawl.
Frodo managed a genuine smile this time. “It's easier if I know I can hand her back when I've given all I can. Parents don't have that option.”
“I sometimes wish for that too,” Rose replied with a half smile. Then she stood, coming around to his side of the table and reaching down to deposit her daughter into Frodo's surprised arms. “I don't reckon I'll ever understand you, but you should have some time with Ely at least.”
“Thank you.” His smile softened as he stroked the golden fuzz on Elanor's head. If only he could be as content as she.
Rose's dimples appeared. “Aye. Well I need the privy. Tis all this sippin' tea at midnight. You can help me change her when I come back. Or you could just hand her back,” she added with a twinkle.
She bent to kiss Elanor's head and then, to Frodo's continued surprise, dropped a kiss on his crown too, a mother's benediction,before leaving the room.
END
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