Worse Than The Sackville-Bagginses, by Kaylee Arafinwiel (B2MEM 2016)

[kayleearafinwiel]

B2MeM Prompt, Card and Number: B2MEM 2016, t_n_b alphabet, Like Juggling The Jewels of Feanor
Format: chaptered fic
Genre: family
Rating: PG
Warnings: Some Bagginses can be worse than the S-B's. Off-page, though.
Characters: Frodo Baggins, Bilbo Baggins, Ponto Baggins II (mentioned), Angelica Baggins (mentioned)
Pairings: Frodo Baggins/Angelica Baggins (in Ponto's dreams *snerk*)
Creator’s Notes (optional): Playing 2016 catch-up for Arafinwiel's Alphabet...
Summary:Five years before the Long-Expected Party, Frodo has an altercation with Ponto Baggins. Bilbo is unimpressed, and concerned. (Frodo is the equivalent of an 18 year old human, while Angelica is the equivalent of 9. This takes place around the same time as my story "About Balbo Baggins...and Others" - probably shortly afterward.)

 

Bilbo glanced up as the front door opened, closing sharply behind Frodo. He frowned, brow creasing. “Frodo, my lad, you know better than to slam the door,” he chided as his nephew dropped into the armchair across from him.

“I don’t care, Uncle,” Frodo seethed, cheeks flushed. “It’s ridiculous, that’s what it is!”

“What is, Frodo?” Bilbo asked, trying not to feel too impatient. “It’s not the S-B’s again?”

“Perish forbid,” Frodo groaned. “Though I did see Lotho on the way back from the Grange, heading over to Sandyman’s. No, it’s Angelica.”

“Angelica Baggins? What’s the lass done?” Bilbo asked, suddenly far more attentive. She was, of course, one of their young cousins, and ultimately his responsibility as the Baggins.

“Nothing, exactly – not yet. But Cousin Ponto…” Frodo trailed off, blush deepening. “Really, Uncle, must I?”

“What did Ponto say?” Bilbo pressed.

“I’m twenty-eight, Uncle Bilbo – he says that’s old enough to be courting.”

“It is,” Bilbo acknowledged. “My own mum was twenty-eight when my parents began corresponding.” 

“No, you don’t understand! He wants me to court Angelica!”

Bilbo’s face paled. “She’s fifteen!” 

“I know how old she is, Uncle Bilbo,” Frodo replied, face flaming. “She’s not even a tween yet, for goodness’ sake.” 

“Did you tell Ponto you were not receptive to the idea?” Bilbo asked.

“I told him…” Frodo turned his face away. “He said well-mannered young gentlehobbits ought not to speak so, and if he were my guardian he’d give me a thrashing.”

“Well, that’s my business, not Ponto’s, so never mind, my lad. And he was being unreasonable,” Bilbo said reassuringly. “Of all the ridiculous nonsense.” 

“He’s more than unreasonable, he’s worse than the S-B’s,” Frodo grumbled. “Dealing with Ponto is like juggling the jewels of Fëanor!”

“Well, I’ll deal with him. You go have a lie down, my lad,” Bilbo advised. As Frodo obeyed, Bilbo sighed heavily. He really wasn’t looking forward to this conversation!