Thank you to Susan Coolidge for inspiring me with "What Katy Did". Thank
you Mr Tolkien for not writing anything about Frodo's childhood and so
giving us endless scope for play. Thank you Elijah for bringing out my
mothering instinct - even if it is rather a horrible mothering instinct
that knocks her babies out of trees. Thank you Frodo Healers so much for
all your support, encouragement, and reviews. Thank you to my muse for
returning to me. And a HUGE THANK YOU to Mark for editing above and beyond
the call of duty.
I don't own and I don't profit - in a monetary sense anyway - from any of this. I profit by way of enrichment of my life.
Chapter 16
The last days of summer flowed into autumn and then winter. Frodo and Bilbo pleasantly weathered their first winter together at Bag End. Frodo liked nothing more than to lie on the couch in Bilbo's study and read and doze while the elder hobbit wrote. When the weather permitted, Sam made his way up the hill and he and Frodo had lessons together. Frodo was learning elvish while Sam was working his way through his alphabet.
Living with Bilbo was balm to Frodo's injured heart. When the snow raged outside they would hole up in the kitchen and Frodo, blanked wrapped, would sit on Bilbo's lap and doze or read to his cousin with Smaug on his own lap. Bag End was warm and cozy but bundling up under eiderdowns taken from their beds made it seemed more like an adventure as the snow fell outside or a gale blew, rattled tree branches against the windows. It was wonderfully peaceful with just the two of them.
Gently and gradually there were more small signs of progress. Slowly, Frodo's control of his toes and feet increased. Slowly, the improvement spread.
One evening Frodo, ignoring the twinge in his back, raised his left leg and spread the toes to look at the flames in the fire from between them.
"Bilbo," he whispered and Bilbo hugged him a little tighter.
"Yes, my dear boy, I see."
*****
Spring thawed out the frosts and Frodo would look out at the dripping world and sometimes feel rather low himself. He was making progress, but not fast enough. He could move his legs but they would not support him. He had tried and many a time had Samwise been borne to the floor under Frodo's collapsing weight, a weight that the younger lad could not support. At these times Frodo would want very much to cry or to shout but then he would remember Bilbo, and Sam, and most of all, his parents, and he would sit upright again and let Sam help him up.
Sitting upright was much easier now and he could stay out of bed for most of the day. His legs still felt as weak as a new born lambs but sometimes, just sometimes, he could feel an indefinable something in them.
That is not to say that Frodo was a model charge. There were still tears of frustration and fits of depression. More than one book had to be sent to be re-bound once Frodo had vented his displeasure upon it. But Bilbo took even these flares of temper as a good sign. No longer was Frodo prepared to turn his back on life.
*****
At last the first full warm days of summer arrived, bringing their usual feeling of renewal to the young hobbit. There was excitement and promise in the scent of summer breezes which came in through the open windows and with the return of summer Frodo felt the return of some strength to his weak limbs.
Frodo and Bilbo were sat in the garden eating their lunch together on one such summer's day while Smaug stalked butterflies, never seeming quite able to catch the bright insects. Frodo grinned from time to time, amused every time Smaug's body would still then his hindquarters would wiggle from side to side, his little tail lashing slightly, followed by a sudden bound and a short race toward the butterfly. The butterfly invariably managed to escape and would then bob just slightly out of Smaug's reach, as if to tease him.
Bilbo had gone in to refill the kettle and Frodo watched the sleek young cat practice its pouncing. All of a sudden the cat froze, staring up into the plum tree, fur all on end.
"What is it?" Frodo called to his pet. Smaug shifted his back legs and gathered himself; he made a strange chattering noise, and then, in a flash, was half way up the tree's trunk. There was an awful noise and leaves seemed to fly everywhere.
"Smaug!" Frodo cried out in fear. From behind him came the crash of teacups and saucers.
"Frodo!"
Frodo turned round, realising he was on his feet, actually standing up, before he became dizzy and fell into his cousins arms.
Smaug then shot by in hot pursuit of a red flash of sleek body and bushy tail.
"Frodo my lad!"
"Oh Bilbo. I did it! I didn't even think about it! I was standing up!" The two hobbits gasped in each others arms. "Let me go, let me go!"
Bilbo did not let his young cousin go, but he took a step back and held Frodo's arms as the boy stood, on terribly shaky legs, but stood none the less. "Oh, my boy, my dearest boy." Bilbo was crying. "Look!" and he braced Frodo so they were standing shoulder to shoulder. "You are as tall as I am now!"
*****
Two weeks shy of his 21st birthday Frodo Baggins, Elf friend, Dragon tamer, Saviour of Middle Earth, stood up on the hill over-looking Hobbiton. Below him were the little streams, lush fields, and woodlands of home. He surveyed the scene before him seeing fields to be pilfered, streams to be explored, and trees to be.. Hum? Yes! Trees to be climbed!
By his side stood Samwise the brave, his trusty squire. And on his shoulder sat his fierce shape-shifting, orange and black striped dragon, who had only ever been bested once, and that was by a squirrel.
the end
I don't own and I don't profit - in a monetary sense anyway - from any of this. I profit by way of enrichment of my life.
Chapter 16
The last days of summer flowed into autumn and then winter. Frodo and Bilbo pleasantly weathered their first winter together at Bag End. Frodo liked nothing more than to lie on the couch in Bilbo's study and read and doze while the elder hobbit wrote. When the weather permitted, Sam made his way up the hill and he and Frodo had lessons together. Frodo was learning elvish while Sam was working his way through his alphabet.
Living with Bilbo was balm to Frodo's injured heart. When the snow raged outside they would hole up in the kitchen and Frodo, blanked wrapped, would sit on Bilbo's lap and doze or read to his cousin with Smaug on his own lap. Bag End was warm and cozy but bundling up under eiderdowns taken from their beds made it seemed more like an adventure as the snow fell outside or a gale blew, rattled tree branches against the windows. It was wonderfully peaceful with just the two of them.
Gently and gradually there were more small signs of progress. Slowly, Frodo's control of his toes and feet increased. Slowly, the improvement spread.
One evening Frodo, ignoring the twinge in his back, raised his left leg and spread the toes to look at the flames in the fire from between them.
"Bilbo," he whispered and Bilbo hugged him a little tighter.
"Yes, my dear boy, I see."
*****
Spring thawed out the frosts and Frodo would look out at the dripping world and sometimes feel rather low himself. He was making progress, but not fast enough. He could move his legs but they would not support him. He had tried and many a time had Samwise been borne to the floor under Frodo's collapsing weight, a weight that the younger lad could not support. At these times Frodo would want very much to cry or to shout but then he would remember Bilbo, and Sam, and most of all, his parents, and he would sit upright again and let Sam help him up.
Sitting upright was much easier now and he could stay out of bed for most of the day. His legs still felt as weak as a new born lambs but sometimes, just sometimes, he could feel an indefinable something in them.
That is not to say that Frodo was a model charge. There were still tears of frustration and fits of depression. More than one book had to be sent to be re-bound once Frodo had vented his displeasure upon it. But Bilbo took even these flares of temper as a good sign. No longer was Frodo prepared to turn his back on life.
*****
At last the first full warm days of summer arrived, bringing their usual feeling of renewal to the young hobbit. There was excitement and promise in the scent of summer breezes which came in through the open windows and with the return of summer Frodo felt the return of some strength to his weak limbs.
Frodo and Bilbo were sat in the garden eating their lunch together on one such summer's day while Smaug stalked butterflies, never seeming quite able to catch the bright insects. Frodo grinned from time to time, amused every time Smaug's body would still then his hindquarters would wiggle from side to side, his little tail lashing slightly, followed by a sudden bound and a short race toward the butterfly. The butterfly invariably managed to escape and would then bob just slightly out of Smaug's reach, as if to tease him.
Bilbo had gone in to refill the kettle and Frodo watched the sleek young cat practice its pouncing. All of a sudden the cat froze, staring up into the plum tree, fur all on end.
"What is it?" Frodo called to his pet. Smaug shifted his back legs and gathered himself; he made a strange chattering noise, and then, in a flash, was half way up the tree's trunk. There was an awful noise and leaves seemed to fly everywhere.
"Smaug!" Frodo cried out in fear. From behind him came the crash of teacups and saucers.
"Frodo!"
Frodo turned round, realising he was on his feet, actually standing up, before he became dizzy and fell into his cousins arms.
Smaug then shot by in hot pursuit of a red flash of sleek body and bushy tail.
"Frodo my lad!"
"Oh Bilbo. I did it! I didn't even think about it! I was standing up!" The two hobbits gasped in each others arms. "Let me go, let me go!"
Bilbo did not let his young cousin go, but he took a step back and held Frodo's arms as the boy stood, on terribly shaky legs, but stood none the less. "Oh, my boy, my dearest boy." Bilbo was crying. "Look!" and he braced Frodo so they were standing shoulder to shoulder. "You are as tall as I am now!"
*****
Two weeks shy of his 21st birthday Frodo Baggins, Elf friend, Dragon tamer, Saviour of Middle Earth, stood up on the hill over-looking Hobbiton. Below him were the little streams, lush fields, and woodlands of home. He surveyed the scene before him seeing fields to be pilfered, streams to be explored, and trees to be.. Hum? Yes! Trees to be climbed!
By his side stood Samwise the brave, his trusty squire. And on his shoulder sat his fierce shape-shifting, orange and black striped dragon, who had only ever been bested once, and that was by a squirrel.
the end