Precious Amethyst

A fortieth fic by Iorhael

AN: Written as a birthday gift for Chloe Amethyst, a good, ol’ friend. Betaed by Celandine Goodbody, one of my dearests.

What happened to the nearsighted jeweler when he was eating grapes?
He almost swallowed an amethyst!

Their round bellies were bouncing as the wee hobbits shook from their violent giggles. Some even doubled over, thoroughly amused at each other, rosy, plump cheeks adorning their bright, cheerful faces.

Bilbo gazed around at those adorable features. Being with children was always fascinating. Carefree and easily entertained, they could even laugh heartily at something entirely foolish--such as the joke he had just told.

Save one.

Bilbo stopped dead at a frowning face on his far right. This small hobbit had not laughed. He had not even smiled. The lad looked strangely serious, as if musing after something. Bilbo wondered what might have bothered the youngest hobbit in the group, the skinniest, and the palest of all. He turned to face the lad.

“Frodo? Are you not amused by the story?”

The pale face turned crimson now with embarrassment and the child bowed his head. “Why did the jeweler mistake the am – amethyst for a grape?”

His voice was so soft that Bilbo had to strain his ears.

Frodo blushed even more. He did not want the others to know he did not get the story.

“What, lad? Speak up, please.”

Frodo cleared his throat. "I – I don’t know what an amethyst is.” He almost wished the ground would swallow him.

Strangely, nobody laughed at him. Some children turned to each other, grimacing. In fact, they did not know what an amethyst was either but they were too proud to admit it.

“Oh…well, you are to be commended for your honesty, my lad.” Bilbo smiled a little, then frowning himself, searched for the easiest way to explain.

“To begin with, who can tell me the color of grapes?” he swept his hand in the air, raising his eyebrows.

“Green!”

“Erm… dark red?”

“Pur – purple!”

Bilbo clasped his hands. “You are all right! But purple, that is the color of amethysts. Now, lads and lasses, why shouldn’t the jeweler want to swallow the amethyst? What is it actually? How does it look? Is it hard?”

“An amethyst is a stone! That’s why,” a big child shouted.

Bilbo threw his smile back at him.

“Thank you, Fastolph! You’ve been a great help. It’s a stone, indeed.”

Meanwhile, Frodo’s eyes went wide. A purple stone? How interesting!

“And it’s not just an ordinary stone, children,” Bilbo continued. “It’s a gem stone. And people usually have it for jewelry – they put it in a ring setting or wear it as a pendant. The best quality of amethyst is actually transparent. Can you imagine it? You can even see your reflection there!”

Frodo gasped in amazement. In his young mind he could see it suddenly, bright and sparkling in the sun, shooting off purple sparklers in every direction. His mother, Primula, wearing it--the deep purple stone--hanging on a simple chain around her neck, dazzling against her translucent complexion.

“There is more to learn about this jewel, though,” the older hobbit carried on, not noticing the far-away look in Frodo's eyes. “The amethyst is a symbol of sincerity, security, and peace of mind.”

Hearing this, Frodo smiled to himself. He closed his eyes, trying to capture the loving voice of his mother, the warmth of her love, the soft strokes of her delicate fingers caressing his hair as she lulled him to sleep. Frodo sighed quietly in utter bliss…and relief. Finally he had found something as great, as treasured as his mother. Something at last worthy--for her gift on his next birthday.

Sadly for the lad's ambition, Bilbo forgot to tell the children just how expensive the precious stone was. But for some time thereafter, Frodo was a happy child, just thinking about his upcoming gift--with visions of amethysts dancing in his mind and swirling around through his mother's smile and her soft, sweet embrace.

~ fin ~