A/n: This story is dedicated to my dear friends Goldberry Apple Blossom, Arwen of Lorien, and Lea. Love you guys tons! This is only another reminder of our sillyness, and I have you all to blame for it. 'Specially Lea. Bacon! Ellie.  

*Breakfast with Hobbits*

"Wake up everyone!" Pippin called, putting another stick of wood on the fire. "Breakfast's almost ready!"

Boromir sat up in his bedroll and rubbed his eyes. He glanced up at the sky. It was early. Very early. But all the four pheriannath, or hobbits as he was supposed to call them, were gathered around the fire, cooking something that resembled jerky.

Aragorn was also up, and he looked more used to this strange phenomenon. They had only left Rivendell the day before, but Aragorn had been travelling with the four before that.

Gimli sat up and said, "Smells like ham."

"It's bacon!" Pippin said, excited.

These hobbits did get excited about their food, Boromir thought. The youngest one more so.

"Bacon?" Legolas asked, opening his eyes glancing at the hobbit quizzically.

"Yes! You know, bacon?" Pippin tried to explain.

Aparently no body knew what it was, so Pippin tossed each of them a slice of the greasy food.

"Eat it," he said. "It's good!"

"Tastes like nothing I've ever had before," Boromir said. "What is it?"

"Bacon!" Pippin said again. "I don't know what it's made out of."

"Pigs, Pippin," Frodo said, trying to hide a laugh. "You should know that."

Pippin shrugged. "Oh well. It's good anyways."

The three travellers looked at each other. Aparently they still had much to learn about these small creatures. They shrugged and joined the hobbits for an early breakfast.

The End

A/N: A glimpse at Aragorn/Estel's life as a young child. I usually write hobbit stories, but this interested me, so please, bear with me!

*Story Time in Rivendell*

It was dark and cold outside, but five year old Estel didn't mind, so long as the fire was going in his room and Lord Elrond was there to tuck him in and tell him a story. But tonight the Elf was late, and Estel began to get impatient as he sat on his bed, already in his nightshirt. He was waiting to tell Elrond that he's ridden a horse all by himself that afternoon, and he wanted to hear a story about a prince and his horse. As minutes ticked by Estel became restless and began kicking his feet out in front of him.

Then the curtain that was his door was pulled back and Lord Elrond smiled on his young charge. "I see you're getting impatient, Estel," Elrond said looking stern. The child instantly stopped fidgiting.

"Ada, I rode a horse all by myself today!" he said, beaming up at the Elf happily.

"Very good, child! Are you going to ride again tomorrow?" Elrond asked, lifting the child into his arms.

"Yes, Ada. Elrohir promised he'd take me again," Estel said.

"Shall I tell you a story now?"

Estel smiled. "Tell me a story about a prince and his horse," he said.

"What kind of prince?" Elrond asked, sitting down on the bed with Estel on his lap.

"A brave prince," Estel stated. "Who fights evil dragons and trolls!"

"There was once a young prince and his horse, and they were very brave..." Elrond began.

Sometimes when Elrond told the boy stories, Estel would fall asleep with his head on the Elf's shoulder, but most often he was too interested to be sleepy until the story was over. And Lord Elrond didn't mind. Spending time with this child was refreshing after discussing and debating the fate of the world.

That night Estel did fall asleep and Elrond carefully tucked him into bed, trying not to wake him. He stood in the doorframe, remembering back nearly two and a half thousand years to when his own sons were as young as Estel. They had loved the same kinds of stories at five, that Elrond was now teling Estel.

"He will grow up to do great things," Elrond said to himself. "Yes, great things." He smiled at the sleeping child, then turned and left.

The End

*Looking Ahead-Sam's thoughts at the Grey Havens*

She said she'd been expecting me since spring. With that statement I knew I'd won Rosie's undying love. I know Mr. Frodo knew we'd shortly be married as he saw the look in her eyes when he told my Gaffer of my fame in Gondor.

My Rosie loved me. And Mr. Frodo was right. I finally got up enough courage to propose to her, and she squealed in delight and then kissed me, right in front of her Da and Mum, and Mr. Frodo. We were wed that spring, under the mallorn-tree from Lorien. And somehow it was as if the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn were there, giving their blessing on our marriage.

As soon as we were married, we moved into Bag End with Mr. Frodo, though he let us have it to ourselves for the first two weeks for our honeymoon, as he went to Crickhollow to visit Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin.

I have told my children this story many times before, but now, as I stand at the stern of the giant Elvish boat, crossing away from Middle-earth, the emotions of it come back to me.

My love is now dead, but I do not weep, I do not grieve. I smile and am happy for her. She lived a wonderful, full life, and I shall be reunited with her soon.

The last thing she said to me was, "Look ahead, my Sam. I'll be waiting for you when it is time for you and Mr. Frodo to come."

She has always understood how Frodo and I needed each other, as I now understand how Rosie and I needed each other once Frodo was gone.

I sigh and move away from the railing. "Look ahead," she said, and I intend to do just that.

As I step up to the bow of the ship, I see the far away island, and smile to myself. This would not be hard. My Rosie, and my Frodo are both waiting ahead for me.

The End

*The New Year*

In honor of the new year, and the destruction of the Ring.

Today is a day of celebration in Gondor, the day that ended the War of the Ring. My Da was a part of it, saw it all up close. He was the one who helped Uncle Frodo to Mordor. As I sit here watching him stand on the balcony with King Elessar I remember back to when my Da told me that I said my very first word to Uncle Frodo on this very day. I smiled when he told me that Uncle Frodo had been as excited as a child at Yule.

Da has been feeling sad today, though, despite all the celebrating. I think he misses Uncle Frodo, especially today. They have been through so much together, and he is now gone. He will never return, but Da tells me that he will join Uncle Frodo some day.

Da and Aragorn are standing at the window looking towards Mordor. The land is deserted now. The shadow is gone. Osgiliath is being rebuilt and I know the view gives Da hope that Uncle Frodo will be healed as well.

They turn and come back in, and we all leave for the annual feast prepared in honor of Da and Uncle Frodo.

The End

A/N: This is my first attempt at a quad-drabble. Written for Marigold’s Challenge #27

*Touched by the Elements*

Earth

Mordor is nothing but dirt and ash and rock. It is hard to breathe, now that the mountain is near. Sam is covered in dirt, and I can only imagine how I must look. What is worse is I cannot bring myself to care what I look like any longer. The sun is setting far beyond the dark shadows. Sam and I must stop and rest soon, or we will not have enough strength to go on tomorrow. We will reach the mountain tomorrow. It will all be done soon. I can only hope this horrible adventure will end quickly.

Fire

Mt. Doom is spitting smoke and fire as Sam and I stand here alone. It is finally over. The Ring is gone and I am freed from its whisperings for the first time in years. The flames are nearly surrounding us, burning our eyes and throats. Sam grasps my injured hand and I glance down at it, suddenly feeling guilty. I had claimed the Ring at the end. The fire had consumed me at last. It had consumed Isildur, it had consumed Gollum, and now, because of me, it would consume my dear Sam. Now we wait for the end.

Air

The eagles are here! They rescued us and are flying us through the air above Mordor. It is clear up here, no ash or smoke cloud the sky. I can breathe once more, knowing that we’re alive, that Sam was spared, and can go home to Rosie and live in peace, because he got me to the mountain alive. The eagles are swift and the wind blows my hair into my eyes. I feel lightheaded and happy for the first time since the Ring came to me. But I know this feeling is only temporary as I slip unconscious again.

Water

The sea is glassy and orange this afternoon under the pink sunset. I stand by the railing of the ship watching the waves it makes at the bow, and sigh. I have left my homeland and all I hold dear to cross the sea. My Sam has promised to come after me when his life in Middle-earth is over. He has so much still to live for. I did not. Still, despite his promise I wonder… Sam dislikes water very much… No. He will come. He must. I must be healed when he comes. That is why I am leaving.

The End

*Story Time in Rivendell 2*

They sky was clear and it was getting warmer out, but this did not make any difference to the five year old child sitting in bed as the sun set. He gripped his left arm that was wrapped in gauze and a brace his foster-brother Elladan had made. Their Adar would be there shortly, and Estel would have to explain what had happened, and event he didn't look forward to.

Elladan and Elrohir had left a few moments earlier to inform his naneth that the injury was not mortal, only a clean break in his lower arm that would heal soon.

Now Estel was sitting alone, silent and still, trying not to cry, though his arm pained him severely. he bit back the tears threatening to break loose.

Just then the curtain was pushed back and Elrond stepped into his room. "Does it hurt much, Estel?" he asked, kneeling by the child's bedside.

The child nodded. Somehow his Adar seemed to know everything, but just then Estel didn't have the energy to dwell on that strange fact.

"And you will learn to obey Elladan when he tells you something important like that?" Elrond asked.

Estel nodded sheepishly. "Yes, Adar," he said. "I s'pose horses don't like to be kicked after all."

"No they don't, dearest. But that is all right. We learn from our mistakes." The Elf lord sat on the edge of the bed and enveloped the boy's small form in his arms. "Do we not?"

Estel nodded. "Yes, Adar," he said. "I am sorry. And I apologised to Elladan. Adar, can you make it not hurt so bad?"

Elrond smiled at the child, and said, "Perhaps." He bent over, kissed the brace on Estel's arm, and began to sing softly as he rocked the boy in his arms.

A few moments later Elrond heard Estel's tiny, sleepy voice. "That feels better. Thank you, Adar." Then the child fell silent.

Elrond heard his breathing even out, but tonight he did not leave. He sat holding the child for a long while, until Estel's mother entered the room.

"Is he hurt badly?" she asked, looking on her son with concern.

"Not anything we can't handle," Elrond replied. "He's sleeping peacefully now, Gilraen." The Elf lord rose carefully and lay the child down on his bed. Then he turned to Gilraen. "He will feel better come morning. Now we must let him rest."

Gilraen bent down to kiss her son's forehead, then followed Elrond out of the room.

The End

~Elanor and Niphredil~

The sun is shining in a dapple pattern through the trees as we walk through Fangorn Forest. I breathe in the smell of clean air and growing things, a smell that never reaches the walled city of Gondor, or even in the halls of Edoras.

I stop to survey the tall ancient trees and see a few Ents coming to meet with Treebeard. Ah, the simple joy Elves get from living plants and living things!

Gimli may never understand, as I will never comprehend his love of rock and stone. Boromir never understood either. And Aragorn, though he understood, did not enjoy the trees and animals as much as I. Sam, on the other hand… Sam understood. I remember many evenings discussing the plant life of the Shire, showing him Elvish plants, teaching him how to better care for them. And I know Frodo was watching as well, but he was too preoccupied to want to pay enough attention.

I smile, remembering the look on Sam’s face when I slipped him a packet of elanor and Niphredil seeds to plant at home, to restore the Shire to beauty.

I breathe deeply, then turn to my companion. “So, Gimli, you’ve seen Fangorn. What do you think?”

The dwarf grunts. “It’s nicer when you’re not afraid of it,” he admits. “The trees are kind of nice…”

I smile at him. “I see you’re finally starting to come around.”

He frowns. “I never said that!” he defends himself. “Come on, Legolas, let’s find something to eat.”

~The End~

A/N: Happy Mother's Day to all mothers out there!

~Birth of Hope~

Gilraen looked down at the baby in her arms and smiled happily. He was the most beautiful baby she had ever seen, with the tufts of brown fuzz on his head, his remarkable grey eyes and his calming smile. At only two days old her son was stronger and healthier than many other babies, and for that she was grateful.

"Arathorn, you've returned!" she exclaimed when she saw her husband enter the room. He had been gone on a trip, and had come home to find that his child had been born in his absence. "Come see your son."

The man smiled when he saw the baby, and Gilraen added, "He looks much like you," as he took the child out of her arms.

"He will be a great warrior, like the kings of old, don't you think?" She smiled at her husband and he smiled back.

"Yes, I believe he shall," he said. "He holds the hopes of all Gondor, and when the time comes, I pray he will not disappoint them."

"He won't," Gilraen smiled. "And he's ours. All ours."

~The End~

A/N: Written for a shirebunny that followed me around until I wrote it. Beware, much silliness. Mmm…pasta. 

~Pasta~

Sam looked skeptically at the strange food piled on his plate. The red sauce smelled delicious, mixed with some sort of ground meat, but what it was poured over was making at least three of the hobbits question whether they still had an appetite.

“Looks too much like worms to me,” Merry said, watching as Pippin twirled some on his fork.

“Try it!” Pippin urged. “It’s really good, and the cook mixed mushrooms in the sauce just for us.”

“What is it?” Sam questioned, still eyeing the strings of…whatever it was, suspiciously.

“It’s called ‘pasta’ and they make it from flour. Beregond introduced me to it after the War ended, while I was stuck in bed,” Pippin replied, shoving a forkful of it in his mouth and getting red sauce in his chin. “Try it!”

“I think I’ll pass,” Frodo said, his face turning a little green.

Sam touched it with his fork, then said, “Me too.”

Pippin looked to Merry, who shoved the plate in his direction.

“But I want the mushroom part!” Merry said, snatching the plate back.

“Honestly I thought you were all braver than this!” Pippin exclaimed, giggling. He gave Merry a challenging look, and saw Frodo laughing behind his hand in spite of the sick feeling in his stomach.

Merry never could turn down a challenge from his younger cousin. He glanced down at the plate, then took one small hesitant bite.

Frodo’s smile disappeared and Sam backed away so as to be out of range, should Merry’s stomach revolt against the new dish. Hobbit stomachs weren’t used to different foods.

But Merry didn’t react the way they’d expected. “’T isn’t bad,” he stated, taking another bite.

“I knew you’d come around!” Pippin said with an impish grin. “Try some,” he said, shoving Sam’s plate back at him. “You too, Frodo!”

“Frodo won’t like it, Pip,” Merry said, seeing Frodo’s green expression. “You know he doesn’t like the taste of mushrooms,” he teased.

Frodo glanced at his cousin. “You’re trying to tempt me to eat it,” he said, bluntly. “I love mushrooms.”

Sam managed a bite, then murmured, “Not bad.”

Frodo shook his head. “I’m not eating it.”

“Fine,” Pippin said. “You don’t have to eat it. But you have to stay and watch us eat it.”

“I’m not sure which is worse,” he said, handing Pippin a napkin and making sure he got all the sauce off his chin.

Pippin shrugged. “It’s really messy. It’s not my fault.”

They sat in silence as they ate. Pippin noticed Frodo absently playing with the noodles with his fork. Then Frodo asked, “What’s it called again?” He lifted the fork to examine it.

“It’s called pasta,” Pippin replied.

“Doesn’t sound too bad,” Frodo said, sticking the fork in his mouth. “Pasta, hmm?” he said, after swallowing.

“Good, huh?” Pippin urged.

Frodo nodded in defeat.

~The End~

A/N: This story was written for Marigold's Challenge #29

*That Night in Bree...*

     The night was long and dark. Frodo awoke far after midnight from unpleasant dreams, for a moment wondering where he was and why he was there. He saw his companions lying beside him, fast asleep, and Strider sitting in the doorway, and he remembered. The inn, their journey, the Ring. Black Riders!

     In a split second he felt fear grip his heart and silently chastised himself for being so foolish in the common room the previous evening.

     “Are you all right, little one?” Strider asked, glancing at him questioningly.

     Frodo released his hand from Sam’s protective hold, and sat up. “I was dreaming and I woke up,” he replied quietly.

     Strider nodded knowingly, then glanced over at Merry. “Your friend dreams not.”

     “Merry rarely does,” Frodo replied, looking fondly at his sleeping cousin.

     “Evil dreams often follow encounters with the black breath. Merry surprises me,” Strider explained. “What of your dreams?”

     Frodo shuddered. “They were frightening.”

     “Come, sit by me and we can talk, if you’d like,” Strider replied. Then he laughed quietly when he saw Frodo hesitate. “Am I as scary as all that?” he asked. “Come, I will not harm you.”

     Frodo grabbed his blanket and sat by the Man, his back against the wall.

     “What do you dream about?” Strider asked, watching the hobbit carefully.

     “I dream of evil things. A world of darkness, an eternal night, immortal slaves toiling forever, a hopeless existence,” Frodo explained softly. “I dream of escape from…” he paused.

     Strider nodded as a tear fell from Frodo’s blue eyes. “I understand,” he said, pulling Frodo close to comfort him. “Does it help to talk about it?”

     “Yes,” Frodo responded. They sat silent for a moment. “Strider?” Frodo began.

     “Yes?”

     “Thank you. I’m glad I can trust you, even if you scared me. But you do seem rather dangerous.”

     “So I seem. And it is well for you to be wary. Not all strangers are safe,” Strider said. “Now perhaps that’s something you could write in that book of yours. A lesson in dealing with strangers.”

     “Strider...”

     “Yes?”

     “I’m not really a writer. I just said that to keep them from asking too many questions,” Frodo replied. “I write only a little. My uncle Bilbo is a writer. He writes the most marvelous poems. I wish you could hear them!”

     “Does he now?” Strider said smiling to himself as Frodo yawned. Strider was rather fond of the old hobbit’s poetry. “They are rather marvelous,” he said as Frodo drifted to sleep.

Then he rose and laid Frodo beside Sam, and covered him with the blanket.

“’All that is gold does not glitter.’ Who knew if he was speaking of me, or of hobbits?” Strider thought to himself. “There is more to them than meets the eye.” He gazed down at the four sleeping hobbits, then let his gaze rest on Frodo. “Bilbo will be very proud of you, Frodo Baggins.”

~The End~

~The Moon's House~

Frodo was sitting up in bed watching the rain pouring outside his window. The storm had been going on for almost ten minutes and the lightning and thunder had woken Frodo from an already restless sleep.

Behind him he heard his door creek open and he turned to see two young hobbits at his door. Merry was carrying their younger cousin Pippin in his arms, and the child was clinging to him as if the world was ending.

They crawled quietly onto Frodo’s bed beside him and Frodo pulled his blanket up around them.

“Did the storm scare you, Pippin?” he asked, prying the child away from Merry to look into his wide, green eyes.

The child nodded. “Is the sky angry, Frodo?” Pippin asked, trembling.

Frodo drew the lad close comfortingly, and Merry smiled, already anticipating Frodo’s answer. He, also, had been reassured during a thunderstorm, this way.

“No, dearest. The sky isn’t angry. The moon is only chopping down trees to build a house for himself so the rain won’t get him wet,” Frodo said. “Do you want him to get wet?”

Pippin shook his curly head. “He might catch a cold. But why does he wait until it’s raining? Why doesn’t he do it when it’s nice out?” Frodo could already see the fear disappearing from Pippin’s eyes.

Frodo smiled. “The moon is very forgetful, and he only works on his house when the rain reminds him of it,” Frodo said, watching Pippin’s eyelids droop.

Merry grinned at Frodo as the lad began to snore. “He believed it,” he said.

Frodo nodded. “So did you, once. Now, let’s all go to bed. The moon isn’t chopping down any more trees tonight,” he said as the rain stopped.

Merry smiled, then closed his eyes to sleep.

~The End~

~Darkness~

All is dark and empty. The Ring is gone, and the last thing I remember of consciousness was being carried by the eagles away from the Mountain of Fire. My body is unconscious, but my mind is not. I go over and over the situation in Mount Doom, as if I am in a nightmare I cannot awaken from. The Ring was never mine, never subject to me. I try to use this argument against the part of myself saying that I betrayed Middle-earth by claiming it. It claimed me at the very last. I was not responsible. Still, that is easier said than believed.

I remember back to when Merry, Pippin and Sam decided to come with me. Oh, dear friends, if you only knew the cost of such a quest before hand…but we didn’t.

My dear innocent Pippin, I heard before I slipped into complete blackness, is now a knight of Gondor, and has felled a troll. Oh, Pippin. He is far too young for war. What will they think of him when he returns home? His mother will never believe he’s so grown up now.

Merry, my brother in spirit. I know he’d do anything for me, and I can only imagine how much it pained him to be parted from me. But he had other tasks to fulfill, other battles to win. I would not have wished him to come with me.

Sam. My dear Sam. He followed me, would not let me go alone, and before the end I realized how much I needed him. He gave me hope and strength I would never have mustered on my own. He carried me when I could no longer walk. He stayed with me till the end, willing to die with me, rather than desert me.

I am dying now. I can feel it in my heart. Whether I die today or in five years, my life will never be the same. My soul is empty, burned away by that horrid thing. No matter how hard I will try, I know in my heart that there is nothing left in Middle-earth for me now.

~The End~

~Mordor~

The air about is as hot as fire, yet I am still cold here in the dark. I see the wheel of fire before my closed eyes, see it’s burning flames, yet I am still shivering. I feel alone and frightened here in the dark of Mordor. The task is too large for a hobbit, they say. I am beginning to believe them, and yet I must do as best I can. I can hear the voice of the Ring in my head telling me I will still fail.

Then suddenly, I feel a hand about mine, and hear Sam’s voice mumbling, yet drowning out all other voices. He lies beside me and pulls me closer, warming me in his arms, curling his body around my back, trying to comfort me in this endless nightmare.

“I’m sorry I left my blanket now, Mr. Frodo,” he says. “But I’ll try to keep you warm. You just fall back asleep.”

I lay back into his arms, and smile a little. “Thank you Sam,” I whisper, closing my already heavy eyelids, and slipping into darkness once more.

~The End~

~For Love~

~Herein lie the thoughts of Denethor, Steward of Gondor in the days after the death of his wife and Lady, Finduilas of Dol Amroth~

She is gone. I cannot remember a time without her that I was not the happiest man in Gondor, though I might not have shown it much. She knew. She knew I loved her dearly. She knew that I would have a hard time of it without her. Yet, she somehow found peace in the thought that I would somehow become stronger through this trial. I cannot now see the logic in that. I miss her so terribly it hurts. Some nights I lay awake long after my attendants have left and think only of her, remembering all that we used to do together. It doesn’t help to think of her, it only increases the pain of her passing. I cannot now imagine life to be happy again, unless I can see my happiness fulfilled through the success of my eldest. He shall have everything I have ever hoped for; prosperity, riches, might, and a long life full of joy. He shall be the next Steward of Gondor, and he shall be a great one.

I cannot speak thus of my younger son. In fact it pains me to speak much of him at all. And that not for the simple fact that he is not the kind of son I had wished for, but also for the reason that he reminds me so much of her. He looks like her. For the longest time I could not look at him, nor speak to him, for fear the pain would return in a rush. He has her spirit, her love of learning and of the sea, but he also possesses all of her weaknesses. She had few weaknesses, I will admit to no more, but they were not so prominent in her as they are in her son. She was persuadable, and quiet, not much for speaking her mind, unless it was asked for, and not much for giving orders to be followed, except amongst her handmaidens. Those are not such bad qualities in her, but not for a future soldier.

This night I lay awake, hearing her voice in my mind, as she spoke to me many times when we were alone, uninhibited by the demands and proprieties of the court; times she told me how much she loved me, and when she would sing to me, songs of her homeland, songs of the sea she loved. I know she grew to love me after we were married, but in her heart she truly belonged to those lands, and her family, not to me. Not to this city. Not to this land.

Perhaps that is why I grieve so much at her passing, because I knew she never truly belonged to me, yet I desired to keep her. It is strange how one’s heart will toy with them. I cannot let mine do so any longer, or I shall fall to pieces. I shall be, as she said, a great ruler. I will not let this time get out of my hands. For her sake, I shall do all in my power to make Minas Tirith great.

~The End~

A/N: This is a birthday mathom for Faramir of Gondor. Happy Birthday, girl! Hope you like it, I just thought of this scene today, so I figured I’d give it to you, since it has your character in it. Love and God bless, Ellie.

I stand at the doorway to the cave in Ithillien, gazing out across the landscape as the sun sets on the horizon to the west. I hear footsteps behind me and glance down to see the Halfling, Frodo, standing at my elbow.

He is holding my cloak in his hands, a tired look on his small face.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, handing the thick brown fabric back to me.

I nod accepting it. When he had passed out earlier in the cave I had covered him with my cloak, as I couldn’t find another blanket, and he seemed deathly cold.

“My brother gave me this, before he left for Rivendell,” I say, fingering the fabric tenderly. “He was different then.”

The Halfling nods. “I’m sure he loved you, Captain,” he replies. “I know it wasn’t really him who attacked me.”

I look back at the fabric in my hands. Boromir was proud, he wanted power. He was so much like our father it scared me at times. But I know the brother I knew wouldn’t attack someone like Frodo just to get what he wanted.

“Indeed, it was not,” I reply after composing myself. “Come, shall we go inside? It is getting cold out here, and I’m sure your companion is looking for you.”

He smiles at me, and I cannot help but smile back as we walk back into the cave.

~The End~

~Frodo’s Garden~

A/N: A bit of Elvish, hobbity fluff. I imagined the scene and had to write it, and I ended up liking it a lot. This is since people wanted more of Meldamiriel from my other fics, and I never got around to writing more about her. I am in the process of writing a longer fic about her, but it may be a while before that is posted, so in the meantime…

The sky was overcast that day. Meldamiriel knew something was wrong from the moment she woke up. It took her a moment to place it until she realized Frodo wasn’t knocking on her front door to wake her. The Halfling was usually there every morning coming to see if she would do this or that with him that day. The two had become almost inseparable.

She rose and slipped on her dress, then headed out to see if he was on his way. Maybe she had woken earlier than she thought. But no, the sun, however darkened, was high enough in the sky to tell her she had actually slept late.

“Perhaps he went to visit Gandalf this morning, or Feredir,” she said to herself as she made her way to the Wizard’s home.

“You’ll not find him there,” said a voice behind her, and she turned to see Lord Elrond by her side.

“Uncle Elrond! What do you mean?” she said, looking at her uncle questioningly.

“I think you should go to his hole and see if he’s all right. No one has seen him this morning, and Gandalf said he thinks you should go see him,” Elrond replied, turning her around and sending her in the direction of Frodo’s home.

She hurried as fast as she could towards the hole the Elves had dug for the hobbit within a few years of his moving to Tol Eressea, and knocked on the door, her stomach sinking as no one answered.

“Iorhael! Where are you?” she called. “Can I enter?”

There was no answer, so she gently opened the door. She’d given him enough warning that she was there if he was home. She stepped through the doorway calling his name in Elvish and Westron.

“Frodo?” she searched through the entire hole, but he wasn’t there. She slipped out the back door into the little garden he kept in anticipation of his old friend, Sam, following him across the sea. There he was, lying asleep on a low bench around which grew his lovely yellow elanor flowers.

She knelt next to the bench and gazed at his face. There were fine lines already forming around his eyes and mouth, though he looked far younger than his age still. The hair around his temples was going silver, and Melda thought it made him even more handsome than he was already, though she would never tell anyone that.

“Iorhael, wake up,” she said, gently shaking his shoulder in an effort to rouse him.

His blue eyes blinked open, and took a moment to focus on her, then he sat up and rubbed his face. “Did I sleep too long?” he asked.

“I thought I’d woke up late, since you weren’t at my door, knocking,” Melda replied with a smile. “Did you stay out here all night?”

Frodo shook his head. “I had a dream, and I couldn’t fall asleep again, so I came out here,” he replied. “The flowers remind me of home.”

Melda smiled. “Your friend will be here before long,” she assured him, knowing that was what had brought him out to the garden. “Now, let’s go find something to eat, shall we?” she asked, rising to her feet.

He smiled, and stood up, his head only reaching to her waist. She giggled, as she often did when he stood up beside her, and put her hand on his shoulder.

“That’s enough laughing at me, let’s go get something to eat!” Frodo exclaimed jokingly, and they ran off.

Melda smiled, glad that nothing worse than homesickness had kept her friend from visiting that morning.

~Finis~

A/N: I do not know if there are pianos in Middle Earth. I am speculating, since there are other musical instruments, and it IS possible someone would have invented a piano, or something like it. This story came about since I have been practicing hours and hours for a recital I have this weekend, and piano was on my brain. I hope you enjoy!

~Music~

Aragorn watched the hobbit carefully from the doorway for a moment before entering the room. Frodo was sitting in a window seat in the library absentmindedly looking at a book of music notes.

Pippin had explained to Aragorn the day before that Frodo was the one who had encouraged him to begin singing. Frodo had always loved music, and as soon as he asked Bilbo had walked down to the store to purchase a small recorder for him.

Pippin said that Frodo was probably sad that he wouldn’t be able to play said recorder because of his finger.

Aragorn stood a moment longer, then called, “Frodo, come here a moment.”

The hobbit looked up, startled out of his thoughts, then rose to follow the King out of the library into a smaller antechamber.

“Is something amiss?” he asked, looking up at the Man.

“No, I wanted to show you something, Frodo.” Aragorn led him to a large black object in the middle of the room.

Frodo looked questioningly at the giant box shaped object before him. It would have looked much like a small, elongated writing desk, but for the rectangle pieces of wood attached to it in white and black.

“What did you say it was?” he asked hesitantly.

“It’s called a piano-forte. It’s a new instrument. I’m told you should be able to learn it quite easily,” Aragorn replied, pulling out the small bench for the hobbit to sit down.

“Well, I suppose it’s worth a try, since I can’t play anything else anymore.” He looked down at his maimed hand, knowing it would be useless to try to play his recorder, and that to play a fiddle would have his cousins laughing at him for the rest of eternity. “How does it work?”

“You push these,” Aragorn demonstrated, pushing down one of the white pieces of wood. A rich note filled the hall, echoing off the stone walls. “They’re called ‘keys’.”

Frodo knew by the tone that it was a C note. He thought for a moment, then placed his fingers on the keys and pushed them in order. “C scale,” he said. “Bilbo used to make me practice my scales on my recorder every morning when I was learning.”

He pushed one of the smaller black keys with a white one and cringed at the dissonant sound it made. “That must be for sharps and flats,” he explains.

“The lady who sold me the piano said her daughter would teach you if you’d like,” Aragorn said.

Frodo smiled. “I think I’d like that,” he said.

“I’ll send for her at once, then!” Aragorn said, turning on his heel.

As he headed out of the room, he heard the sound of a simple song coming from the piano, and smiled, glad he had been able to cheer his friend up a little.

~Finis~

A/N: My Yule Gift to Queen Galadriel, since she said she wanted to see where this story went. I hope you like it, mellon nin! I was going to do a Yule/Christmas gift for some of my other readers and fellow authors too, but I got halfway through a story for harrowcat and my muse decided it would leave for vacation or something. So my makeshift Yule gift will be the next chapter of The Aftermath, I suppose. Merry Christmas and Happy Yule!

~Lessons and Practice: Part Two~

Frodo sat on the bench, trying out the keys to his new piano while he waited. It seemed rather simple to figure out, and he couldn’t wait to start learning songs. It was only fifteen minutes later when Aragorn returned to the hall with a young girl of about eighteen behind him. She bowed to Frodo, clutching a few hard bound books to her chest.

“Frodo, this is Shannon, the girl I said would be willing to teach you,” Aragorn said. “Shannon, this is Frodo Baggins.”

“At your service, my lord,” the girl said, dipping her head.

“Please, just call me Frodo,” Frodo requested.

Shannon smiled.

“I think I shall leave you two to work. I will return in a little while to have someone escort you home, Miss Shannon,” Aragorn said, bowing to them.

“Thank you, Sire,” Shannon said as the King left the room.

She turned to Frodo, tucking her short blonde hair behind an ear. “Have you played any instruments before, Frodo?” she asked.

“I used to play the recorder, quite well actually. But I can’t play that without a finger,” he replied almost wistfully.

“Well, then, the piano forte shouldn’t be too hard. Shall I tell you a little about the instrument, first?” she asked.

Frodo nodded. “Yes, please,” he replied.

“The piano forte is a relatively new instrument, as I’m sure you’ve been told. There was another instrument before it that was played the same way, but it sounded different. That was invented in the south and the people liked it very much, so they began importing them to Minas Tirith and other cities around Gondor. Then one day someone decided to experiment with different ways of making them, and the piano forte was invented. You see, this instrument has strings inside that are hit when you push the keys. On the other instrument, called a harpsichord, the strings were plucked when you pushed the keys.” She stood and lifted the top of the piano. Frodo stood up on the bench to look inside.

“See,” she pointed to the copper colored strings. “Those are the strings.” She shut the lid, and Frodo sat down again.

She pulled out a book and said, “Can you read music like this?”

Frodo looked at the page and nodded. “Not very well, but I can read most of it. The recorder only has the top line,” he said, pointing to a line of notes.

“The treble clef, right. On piano, that is for the notes you play with your right hand, and this bottom line, called the bass clef, is for the notes you play with your left.” She went on to explain a few things about the notes, and then started teaching him a few simple songs.

After about an hour, Aragorn came back. “Did you have a nice lesson?” he asked.

Frodo nodded, smiling. “Yes, very nice, thank you.”

Shannon grinned. “Frodo is a quick learner. I think he will be very good at this instrument.”

“Good. Thank you for coming so quickly.” Aragorn smiled, then signaled for one of his guards to escort Shannon home. Then he sat down on the bench next to the hobbit.

Frodo threw his arms around the King’s waist and said, “Thank you so much.”

Aragorn stroked his head and said, “You’re welcome, my friend. Perhaps you could learn a song that Pippin can sing to, and the two of you can play it for me sometime.”

Frodo smiled. “I’d like that.”

The next day Sam stood at the doorway to the anti-chamber, hidden by the partially open door, listening to the sounds of Frodo practicing his songs.

He felt someone behind him, and looked up to see Aragorn standing there, smiling. “Does Frodo know you’re listening?” he whispered.

Sam shook his head, blushing furiously. “No, he don’t. But I can’t help it. He’s so happy to be playing some sort o’ music again.” He grinned. “You did a good thing gettin’ him that piano.”

Aragorn smiled. “I’m glad you think so, Sam.”

A dissonant sound came from the piano, and Sam and Aragorn cringed. They heard Frodo mutter something in elvish, and then start the song over again.

“Come, let’s leave him to practice,” Aragorn said, leading Sam out of the room.

~Finis~ 

~Knots~

A/N: To my friend Arwen of Lorien, cause I wrote an elf story, I’m giving it to you. I think this is my first attempt at Arwen too. I hope you enjoy! What do you think? God bless, Ellie.

She sat in front of the mirror, pulling her fingers gently through a strand of her dark mahogany hair that would not untangle. The knot was beginning to frustrate her, when the curtain to her room was pulled back and her mother stepped through the doorway.

“Arwen, love, what’s wrong?” Celebrian asked her young daughter, coming up and placing her hands on the child’s shoulders.

“I can’t get this knot out of my hair, Naneth,” Arwen complained, dropping her hands, and leaving it.

“Did you try the comb?”

Arwen nodded. “Can you fix it, Naneth?” She looked up at her mother with big brown eyes. It seemed perfectly natural to Arwen that if something was wrong her mother was the one person who could fix it. Her naneth could fix anything.

Celebrian picked up the nearby comb and began working the hair from the bottom. “Now, my dear, do you wish to tell me why you have been hiding in your room all day?”

Arwen blushed, but told her. “I was angry with Elladan.”

Celebrian nodded. It was no news to her, but she didn’t say so. “And why were you angry with Elladan?”

“Because he didn’t let me come with them on their ride,” Arwen finished.

“And do you think moping is going to help you?”

Arwen shook her head. “They wanted to be alone, without me. I understand.”

“You do have your own friends, love. Perhaps it is time to start being with them more often, and let your brothers have their own time as well,” Celebrian said, smoothing out the last of the tangle.

Arwen reached a hand back, and smiled. “Thank you, Naneth,” she said, standing to hug her mother. She always knew her naneth could fix anything.

~Finis~

A/N: I believe naneth is sindarin for mother.

~Understanding~

A/N: To Antane, for her birthday. I do hope you enjoy this! I have a chapter of the Latter Days filled with Hobbity-love coming for you as well, but I thought you would like this since I remember you said you like reading stories of Sam and Frodo’s reunion in Valinor. Enjoy! J

Where would I be without Sam? I ask myself that question constantly. I don’t know the answer, though all my suppositions are dark and terrifying. He is everything to me. I doubt I would be alive today if it weren’t for him. But it is all for the best that I am leaving, I suppose. I can’t stand the thought that it hurts him every time I am sick, or every time I can’t eat, or have nightmares I cannot tell him about. I can’t stay. I know he will be angry with me, but I am really doing this for his good. He will understand eventually, I think. I only hope he realizes this will break my heart as much as it will his.

I hold my pen poised above the paper, feeling tears coming to my eyes at this thought. The vastness of the decision is weighing down on me so much so that my shoulder begins to ache. The air seems tight and heavy, and I take a deep staggering breath. The pen touches the parchment, and the letter seems to form itself underneath my hand. I sign my name, free of the usual flourish, and lift the pen to look at it. A tear falls on the page, and I absently dab at it.

Before I can change my mind and throw the letter into the fire, I leap up and rush out the door. The Post Office is not very far from here, and before I know it, I am home sitting in the parlor reading.

Sam enters the smial a few moments later, hangs his cloak up, and then comes to greet me.

“What’s the matter, dearest? Are you all right?” he asks, sitting down beside me.

I look up at him, blinking to keep from crying. “I’m fine. I’m just a bit tired today, that’s all,” I reply, hoping I am not giving anything away. He will be upset when I leave.

He looks at me for a moment, then says, “Rosie’ll be home in a moment. I’m gonna go start dinner.”

I attempt a smile and say, “All right.” And he leaves. Will I ever be able to go through with this, I wonder?

* * *

I stand at the back of the ship, hand raised holding the phial of Galadriel high as we sail away from Middle Earth. For the moment my mind is not thinking of anything, except to memorize my dearest friend’s face so as not to forget it. For some reason, I am not afraid of forgetting Merry and Pippin, as though I know them too well to forget. But it seems as though the one thing the enemy could still take from me is the memory of my best friend.

When they are out of sight, I lower my arm and stand swaying for a moment, suddenly realizing that I’d actually done it. I have left Middle Earth, never to return. Never. The weight of that word brings me to my knees and I collapse on the deck of the ship, leaning against the railings, breathing heavily. I feel a hand on my shoulder, and absently push it away.

“Frodo-lad, are you all right?” Bilbo’s voice sounds worried.

I shake my head, wishing him to leave so he won’t see me crying. I’ve left my home, my family, my brother. Before it felt as though I’d lost so much already, I’d not lose much more by leaving, but now I realize just how much I did have to lose.

“I know it’s hard to leave,” Bilbo says, beginning to gently rub my back. “But Sam will come later, you know that.”

I nod, but I am not sure if I believe it yet.

Gandalf comes up behind us. “Come, Frodo, let’s go inside,” he says as Bilbo helps me rise. I rub my sleeve over my eyes, and follow them in, telling myself Sam will come. He has to. He will come when Rosie dies. When he understands why I left.

* * *

It has been nearly sixty years or so since I last saw my Sam. I can’t recall the exact date, time moves so strangely here in the Undying Lands. He came today, on one of the last ships. When I saw its sails on the horizon, I could hardly contain my nervousness. I wondered if he would really come, or if I had been reading too much into the dreams I’ve been having lately of him arriving. But he was there, wobbling off onto the dock with unsteady sea-legs, looking just about as lost as I felt when I first landed.

I ran to him, and he let out a yelp when he saw me, stumbling to meet me and throw his arms about me.

He looks much the same as he did so many years ago when I left, except that his skin is slightly wrinkled, and his hair is nearly all white.

I felt tears of joy coming to my eyes, and he smiled at me, a big, contented smile. “Oh, Frodo, I missed you so much!” he said, laughing a bit.

“I missed you to, Sam,” I reply, my hand tightening on his arm for a moment.

I think he read the unspoken question in my eyes, for he said, “I understand now why you left.” He shakes his head a moment, as if not believing it. “I realized after Rosie died that here was probably the only place you could go to…” he left off, and I smiled at him.

“To be healed, Sam,” I said, grinning happily. “And I am, now that you are here.”

He had hugged me again, then, and followed me, hand in mine, as I led him to my home.

Now he is asleep. I had fallen asleep earlier this evening, and woke up late into the night to find him asleep beside me. I gaze at his face, peaceful and happy, and know I had done the right thing choosing to leave all those years ago. And my Sam understands now, as I knew he would.

~Finis~

Sam sat back in his chair, a piece of paper in his hand. He thought a moment, frowned, then scratches something out and rewrote it with a new quill pen.

He felt a shadow in the doorway and looked up to see Pippin standing there with an impish smile.

“You about ready, Sam?” Pippin asked. “I finished mine near five minutes ago, and Merry just finished.” He waved a piece of paper of his own at Sam.

“Nearly finished, Mr. Pippin. Don’t rush me,” Sam replied. He scratched down a few more words, then stood up and smiled in satisfaction.

Suddenly Pippin straightened. “I think I smell your wife’s apple tarts,” he said, grinning at Sam before dashing away.

Sam stayed where he was a moment longer, thinking back to when Pippin had first suggested the idea.

It had been a dark dreary day in late April and Pippin had been looking for a way to cheer Frodo up, when suddenly he had suggested they each write down a tale or legend they had heard told in Minas Tirith.

They had each come up with some fairly entertaining tales. Frodo’s favorite was one Pippin said Faramir had told him of Denethor teaching him to read one rainy day. Faramir had been five, and Denethor had been in a decidedly better state of mind in those days.

They had decided to make the tale writing challenge a tradition, to write one story every year and compile them in a single volume after a number of years, but Frodo had sailed for Valinor that September.

Nevertheless, Sam, Merry and Pippin had kept it up, writing more the next year, and adding three more tales to their collection. Now they had been collecting tales for three years.

Sam glanced down at his paper. Had it really been that long?

“Sam! Hurry or we’ll eat it all without you!” Merry called good-naturedly from the other room.

Sam folded his paper and headed out the door.

“Don’t worry, love,” Rosie said as he entered the kitchen. She handed Sam a plate. “I’ve saved some for you.”

“So what is it that’s had you working till the last second to finish?” Merry asked, just as Sam took a bite out of his apple tart.

When he swallowed, he said, “It’s the story the city folk told their little ones about Frodo and the Ring. The tale’s accurate, an’ I figured since we was writing tales from Minas Tirith it ought to be included as well.”

“That’s a splendid idea, Sam! I wonder that we didn’t think of it before now,” Merry said, nodding in approval.

Rosie smiled at them. “Well, then, lads, let’s hear these stories o’ yours,” she said, sitting down by her Sam.

“Well, all right,” Sam said, and he stood up to begin his tale.

~Finis~

~Wizards~

By Elanor Silmarien

“Is there any more tea?” Frodo asked, indicating for his uncle to pass the teapot. “Sam said he’d be over soon. He said his Da needed to attend to the roses this afternoon.”

Bilbo hid a grin. “Did he indeed?” He passed the teapot to Frodo, then glanced over at Gandalf, who was sitting on the floor beside the table, puffing on his pipe. “Are you sure that’s all he wanted?”

Frodo glanced hesitantly from Bilbo to Gandalf. He had met the wizard a few times before, and he seemed rather nice, but Frodo did not want to upset him. “Well, I suppose he’d like to meet Gandalf as well…” he admitted, blushing. “I mean, he’s heard so much about you and…” he amended, glancing up at Gandalf.

The wizard laughed. “Will he ask as many questions as you seem to have come up with, I wonder?” Gandalf said. “I don’t mind meeting your friend, Frodo. In fact, I would very much like to.”

Frodo grinned up at the wizard, then glanced out the window. “Good, because he’s on his way up the Hill now!” He leaped up, tea forgotten, and dashed to the door.

Gandalf heard Frodo talking excitedly, telling the lad that the wizard would be more than happy to meet him. “Truly, Mr. Frodo?” said a small voice that the wizard guessed must be the aforementioned Sam, and then Frodo came back into the room, leading a lad of about fourteen or fifteen with him.

“Sam, this is Gandalf. Gandalf, this is Samwise Gamgee, my best friend in the whole world.”

“Pleased to meet you, Samwise,” Gandalf said, smiling at the lad. “Frodo has told me much about you.” Here the lad blushed.

“It was all good things, Sam, I promise!” Frodo said, leading Sam to come sit by him at the table.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gandalf, sir! “Sam said once he’d found his tongue again.

“You can ask me whatever question I can see is brewing in your eyes, lad. I don’t mind,” Gandalf said with a chuckle, watching as Sam tried really hard not to say anything.

“Really, sir?” Sam asked.

“Really,” the wizard responded.

“Are all the things in Mr. Bilbo’s story true?” Sam asked, curiosity flooding his eyes.

Gandalf laughed. “Yes! Of course they were! And you know what? I think you might be just the sort of hobbit to go on an adventure of your own someday.”

Sam glanced up at the wizard, shock evident in his eyes. “Me, sir? I don’t think so. My Da don’t hold with adventurin’. Meanin’ no offence, Mr. Bilbo.”

Bilbo chuckled. “None taken, lad.”

Gandalf laughed. “I don’t doubt your Da doesn’t like it. But you might be surprised,” he said, putting on a mysterious look, and returning to his smoke rings.

Sam sat gazing at the wizard, confusion and awe written in his small face.

Later that afternoon, when Sam and Frodo were out in the garden by themselves, Frodo asked, “So, what do you think of him Sam?”

“Mr. Gandalf? He’s a strange one, that’s for sure! Are all wizards like him?” Sam replied.

“I suppose they must be, though I’ve never met another one. I think he’s nice, though. A bit odd, but nice,” Frodo replied. “I think he’ll make a good friend, don’t you think?”

To that, Sam had to smile and say, “Yes, I think he will.” To himself he said, “I may never understand him, but I do like him.”

~Finis~

~The Voice~

The torment is great. Here in the heart of Mordor, the Ring draws power, gaining footholds in my mind, breaking open my heart and soul.

You cannot hide,

You cannot win.

No! I shout in my mind. No, no, no, no, no!

You can have power.

I don’t want it!

You will rule many.

I won’t!

I will break you then.

And, oh, how you will fall.

“Mr. Frodo?” Sam’s voice for a moment drowns the incessant, ever stronger voice of the Ring.

“Hmm?” I amswer.

“I asked if you wanted to stop. You look’s if you’ll fall over, if you don’t mind my sayin’.”

I nod. “I could do with a rest,” I say.

He will die if you go on.

I squeeze my eyes shut in an effort to silence the voice, but it will not be silenced. I feel it’s malice seeping into my heart, breaking what remains of it. It fills my mind, and I see before me, not the bleak landscape of Mordor, but a giant wheel of flames, burning my eyes, my head. The voice fills all, taking precious memories of comfort from me and drawing all my focus to Itself.

Your friends will all die.

They will die because you refuse to give in.

No! They won’t! my resolve is weakening even as I think this.

You are mine, your soul belongs to me.

I say nothing this time, knowing in my heart what it says is true. I am nearly all in it’s power now. I hear an echo of laugher in my ears, dark and evil.

I have already won, then!

I hide my face in my arms, and feel Sam’s hand on my back.

“You all right, Mr. Frodo?” he asks.

What would I tell him? The truth will hurt him. He cannot help me with this. It will pain him to know that.

“Yes, Sam,” I say. “I’m fine.”

But I am not fine. My entire being is being destroyed. And no one can stop this.

~Finis~

~The Pirates of Bag End: Part One~

Merry and Pippin gasped. “Repeat that again, Sam?” they said. Frodo chuckled.

“I said, ‘My mum said as how I’m a bit obsessed with stories of elves and such, so I’m takin’ a break from that, an’ not talkin’ or readin’ or playin’ about elves for a while,” Sam replied, glancing at the two mute hobbits.

“Wow, that’s… interesting,” Pippin said. He turned to Frodo. “Think he’ll last?”

Frodo shrugged. “Don’t know. Sam can be pretty stubborn when he puts his mind to it.” He grinned at his younger cousin. “So what are we going to do then?” Frodo asked, looking from his cousins to Sam.

Sam shrugged.

Merry looked thoughtful.

Pippin grinned mischievously. “Let’s play pirates!” he said.

“Pirates?” Frodo questioned.

“Yes! Merry and I play it all the time! You know, sea thieves and such. They wear handkerchiefs on their heads, and eye patches and captain ships and steal all the treasure from other pirates and bury it on islands in the middle of no where!” Pippin said. “It’s lots of fun, really! You just have to find costumes and treasure which I’m sure we can find things in your mathom rooms, Frodo!”

Frodo turned to Sam. “What do you think, Sam?”

Sam smiled. “I think is sounds perfect, Mr. Frodo!”

“All right,” Frodo consented. “Pirates it is. Lead on, Pippin. We’ll get the things together first, then we can pick names.”

They gathered a ton of stuff from the mathom rooms; handkerchiefs and hats and bottles and trunks and even some gold pieces Bilbo had shoved away in a back closet.

Merry, Sam and Frodo picked their names quickly, but Pippin was so intrigued by the treasure that he hadn’t even heard them.

“Pippin! I asked what your name was going to be!” Merry yelled in his cousin’s ear.

“What?”

“We’ve already got our names, what’s yours?”

“Jack!” Pippin said, the first name that came into his mind.

“Jack what? We’ve got two names,” Sam said.

Pippin couldn’t think of a name. He glanced outside and saw a small bird landed on the windowsill. “Jack Sparrow!” he said.

“Sparrow? What kind of a name is that?” Merry asked skeptically.

“A bird name,” Pippin said sheepishly.

“Whoever heard of a bird name?” Merry stated.

“HEY! A peregrine is a bird!” Pippin complained.

“Oh, right. I forgot. Sorry, Pip.” Merry blushed. “Fine, Jack Sparrow it is. I’m Merry the Magnificent, Sam’s Will Silver, and Frodo’s James Flint.”

“Merry the Magnificent? Sounds more like a king’s title than a pirate name,” Pippin said.

“All right, you two, enough fighting over names, let’s get our costumes on,” Frodo said, tossing each of them a handkerchief to tie around their heads.

Pippin put his on, then dove into the pile of clothing, coming out with a bit hat, which he lopsidedly thumped on his head, and an old wine bottle that he thought looked interesting.

“What, Pip, bring your ale with you?” Frodo said, jokingly.

Pippin laughed. “Fro, pirates don’t drink ale, they drink rum!” he said, raising the bottle in a tipsy manner.

“If you say so, Jack Sparrow,” Frodo said, grinning.

“That’s what I say, James Flint,” Pippin retorted.

“So, who’ll be the captain, Mr. Frodo?” Sam asked.

“I will! Captain Jack Sparrow!” Pippin said, leaping up so fast he almost fell over again.

“But I think…” Merry began.

“Come on, Mer, let him be captain,” Frodo said. “You know we always get the best characters when we play…” Frodo glanced at Sam a moment, “Other things.”

Sam grinned at his friend. “You can say it if’n you want, but I won’t answer you.”

“What’ll be our ship?” Merry asked. “At home we have a ton of old crates we use.”

“How about the whole parlor is the ship,” Frodo said. “And the other rooms can be different islands we travel to.”

This they quickly agreed to, and Pippin dubbed the arm chair as the captain’s wheel, from where he steered the ship.

“We’re headed to an island called…” Pippin searched his mind for a name, but couldn’t think of one.

“Gandalf!” Merry finished for him.

Pippin shrugged, then yelled. “All hands on deck! Make ready to sail for…Gandalf!”

“What’s in Gandalf, Mr. Pippin?” Sam asked.

“That’s Jack Sparrow, not Pippin, Will Silver!” Pippin said, brandishing his bottle at Sam.

“Sorry, Jack,” Sam said with a grin. “What’s in Gandalf?”

Pippin thought a moment. “A necklace! A necklace that will… help… you rescue your girlfriend!”

Sam blushed bright red. “I ain’t got a girlfriend, Mr. Sparrow,” he said.

“What about Rosie?” Pippin asked with an evil glint in his eye.

“Rosie isn’t my girlfriend. She’s just a…”

“She’s coming up the walk right now!” Frodo called from the window. He headed to the door and opened it. “Hello, Rosie, how are you this morning?”

“Fine, Mr. Frodo. I just come up to see if ye needed anything since Mr. Bilbo is away,” she said, trying not to giggle at how Frodo looked.

“We’re playing pirates,” he explained. “You want to join us?”

Rosie shrugged. “Why not? How do I play?”

“You get to be Sam’s girlfriend that we have to go rescue!” Pippin piped up from where he stood atop the captain’s wheel.

Frodo rummaged through the pile of things, then tossed Rosie a leather belt that had strips of leather hanging from it, and a hat. “Here, put these on,” he said. “What shall your name be?”

“I don’t know. What kind of names do girl pirates have?” Rosie asked, tying the belt around her waist, and settling the hat on her head.

“Call her Elizabeth,” Merry said. “Just because it’s all I can think of at the moment.”

“Pleasure, Miss Elizabeth,” Pippin said, coming up and bowing to her. “I am Captain Jack Sparrow, this is Will, James, and Merry the Magnificent,” he said, introducing them all. “I’m the captain, Will’s my first mate, Merry’s just an extra hand, and Frodo’s the evil pirate.”

“Since when did I have to be evil, Pippin?” Frodo demanded, laughing.

“Since I said so! I am captain, after all!” Pippin replied. “So you kidnap her, and take her to the island of Gandalf, and then Merry, Will and I have to rescue her!”

“All right, well, come Elizabeth, I’m afraid I must kidnap you!” Frodo said, taking her wrist and heading out of the room, running right into the wizard they had named an island.

“It doesn’t count! The Island is moving!” Frodo said, grinning back at Pippin.

“What are you playing, lads?” Gandalf questioned, looking at them curiously. “And lass, I see! Beg pardon, Rosie, I didn’t see you there.”

“We’re playin’ pirates, Mr. Gandalf!” Sam said, brandishing his wooden sword.

“I see,” Gandalf replied. “And I am an island, I take it?”

Pippin nodded and said, “The Island of Gandalf! That’s where Frodo’s kidnapped Elizabeth to!”

“Ah, Frodo is playing the evil pirate,” Gandalf concluded.

“Yes! And Elizabeth’s Sam’s girlfriend!” Pippin added.

Rosie flushed bright red, and Sam said, “She ain’t, Mr. Pippin! We’re just friends!”

“Sure you are!” Pippin retorted, grinning.

Gandalf nodded. “I see. Well, I assume even pirates need to stop for luncheon, don’t you?” he asked.

Pippin and Merry were immediately following Gandalf out of the room, Frodo, Sam and Rosie following behind a bit more slowly.

“Well, I think their minds will be occupied for a little while at least!” Frodo commented. “And then it’s back to the sea!”

Sam laughed. “We’d best hurry before they eat all the food there is!”

And they dashed into the kitchen.

 ~Finis~

A/N: A (late) birthday mathom for our dear Frodo Baggins! This evil little plot bunny came from our discussion on allergy medicine, if you recall, mellon nin, and what Eleon said about Nyquil having alcohol in it…Yes, I have a strange mind. I hope you enjoy, it’s just a bit of silliness really, short and sort of pointless. I tried a different writing style than I’m used to, and I hope it turned out! God bless, Ellie

~Allergies~

“Frodo, come look at these flowers here,” Sam calls to me as we explore the garden outside the guest house. It has been three days since we arrived in Minas Tirith, and we have been so busy lately that we haven’t had time till now to admire the garden right outside our door.

“What are they?” I ask, glancing down at a patch of lovely orange and yellow flowers that I have never seen before.

“I don’t know, but I don’t think they grow in the Shire,” Sam says, kneeling to examine them closely. “Smell them!” he says a moment later, sniffing one of the blooms.

I bend over and smell one, and it is very nice, sort of fruity and summery.

“Let’s take some in and put them in the vase on the table,” I suggest, brightening at the idea of flowers in the bland stone room.

~*~*~

“All right, Frodo, what’s wrong?” Merry demands that evening as we are all sitting down to dinner in our house.

“What?” I ask, not sure what he means.

“You’ve been sniffing and sneezing all day. Are you catching a cold?” he asks.

I shrug, suddenly sneezing again.

“Hmm…” Sam says, thinking. “I don’t think it’s a cold. I think you’re allergic to something, Frodo.”

“Me? Allergic?” I question. I’ve never been allergic to anything that I know of.

“After dinner you’re going to see Aragorn about that,” Sam says.

“Sam, do I have to? I’m fine, really!” And I sneeze again. All right, maybe I’m not “fine”, but I’m not sick, either.

“You’re seeing Aragorn after dinner,” Pippin says, and I don’t argue, knowing that Merry will agree with them. If all three of them are against me, I know I’ll never win.

~*~*~

“Yes, you’re definitely allergic to something,” Aragorn says. I am sitting in his gathering room, trying not to sneeze and pretending I’m just fine. “It’s probably those lovely flowers you and Sam put in your rooms. Sam says they don’t grow in the Shire, and a lot of Gondorians are allergic to them.”

I frown. “A hobbit, allergic to flowers? Is that even possible?” I glance over at Sam, who shrugs.

“It’s been known to happen, occasionally,” he replies.

“Well,” Aragorn continues, handing me a small green bottle of something that smells nasty. “Take this and you should be fine. But I do suggest getting some different flowers in that vase, just in case the medicine doesn’t work.”

~*~*~

“I don’t need the medicine, Sam. You got rid of the flowers, I should be fine now,” I assure him, trying to sound convincing. And I sneeze immediately afterwards.

“Take it, Frodo,” he orders, pushing the cup at me.

I sniff, and say, “How about I put it by my bed, and if I need it later, I’ll take it.”

Sam consents. “If you want to, but please take it if you need it.”

“I will Sam, goodnight.” He hugs me, then leaves my room, shutting the door after himself.

I glance at the door, then, making sure he isn’t still within earshot, I grab the cup and drink the medicine.

To my surprise, the taste isn’t all that bad. Actually quite nice. It doesn’t work instantly, and for a few minutes afterwards I am still sneezing and trying to breathe right, but after a while it seems to work fine.

I drift off to sleep rather swiftly tonight, and sleep soundly.

~*~*~

“Frodo? Are you all right?” Merry asks as we sit down to breakfast. There are now purple lupines in the vase, a flower we have all across the Shire.

“Yes, why?” I ask, feeling sort of strange.

“You’re awful happy today…” he says, looking at me frowning. “A bit too happy, seems to me. What was in that stuff Aragorn gave you?”

I frown, concentrating on the question. After a moment, my mind is completely blank. “I… I dunno…” I say, reaching for my mug. I had taken a bit more of the medicine this morning, since I had woken nearly unable to breathe. Why, I have no idea, since the flowers are gone. Maybe they left their pollen floating about the house, or something.

My hand misses the mug and I glare at it, thinking about telling it to stay put. I reach again, and miss again.

“I think we need to take you to see Aragorn again,” Pippin says, trying not to laugh at me.

“I’m fine, Pip,” I say, forcing my mouth to say the words right.

“I don’t think so, dearest,” Sam says, helping me to my feet and taking me down the hall to Aragorn’s rooms.

~*~*~

Aragorn shakes his head, unable to keep from laughing when he sees the state I am in. I don’t know why he is laughing, but suddenly I have the urge to laugh with him, and everything seems hysterical.

“I am sorry, Frodo,” he says. “It’s just, the allergy medicine has alcohol in it, and I told you to take the amount a full grown Man would take. I guess hobbits would take smaller doses.”

Sam giggles, then puts a hand over his mouth to stop.

I laugh. “Well,” I slur. “Shouldn’t be too bad, I am a hobbit, after all.”

“Can you handle this on your own, Sam? I’ll try to find the right amount for him,” Aragorn says, standing up.

“Yes, sir. I’ve handled enough drunk hobbits before,” he says, smiling mischievously at me.

~*~*~

That night I get the right dose, and the effects of the medicine have worn off. The flowers are gone, and Sam transplanted them in the garden so I can go out there without worrying about it.

I still don’t know what was so funny though. Oh well, I suppose that’s for another story.

~Finis~

A/N: Happy Birthday Galadriel! This is just a little bit of fluff I wrote for you. Inspired, I’m sure you’ll remember, by a conversation between me and Frodo about this very topic. *grins innocently* Anyhow, you suggested someone write a fic on the topic, so I decided I’d write you one for your birthday. Hope you enjoy it! Happy birthday! *hugs*

~Scars~

It was a lovely day. The sun was shining and Sam was busy in the garden tending to Mr. Bilbo’s flowers when the door to Bag End opened, and Frodo came out.

“Hello, Sam! I saw you working out here and thought I would bring you something to drink. It’s been awfully hot lately,” Frodo said handing Sam a glass of water and sitting down on the grass by him.

“Thank you, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said, taking the water gratefully. He took a sip, then noticed something that made his stomach turn.

“Mr. Frodo, what did you do to yourself?” he asked, gazing with wide eyes at the huge gash along Frodo’s forearm. It looked as if it was a few days old, starting to scar, but still new enough to be fairly ugly looking and scabbed over.

Frodo looked down at his arm, then smiled. “Fell out of a tree,” he replied. “I just took the bandage off this morning. You should see the gash Merry has from falling on a rock in the stream yesterday!”

“Is it bad, Mr. Frodo?” Sam asked, looking anxious. “Looks like yours hurts! Are you all right?”

Frodo laughed. “Of course, Sam! Well it hurt when it happened, but it’s going to leave a wonderful scar, don’t you think?”

“Scar, Mr. Frodo?” Sam couldn’t get past the fact that it looked like it hurt.

“Yes! You should see some of the other ones I have.” He pulled up his pant leg to reveal a long scar along his knee. “I got that from a dog back when I lived in Buckland.” He then proceeded to show Sam three or four smaller scars on his arms that he attributed to wrestling with Merry when they were younger.

Sam listened to all this with an expression between disgust and fear.

“Mr. Frodo, what if you get seriously hurt someday?” he said in a small voice. “I mean, a scar is fascinatin’ and all, that’s fer sure, but if it’s come from almost dyin’, then it ain’t so magical and adventuresome, is it?”

Frodo chuckled. “Oh, Sam, those are the best kind of scars to get!”

Sam’s eyes widened even farther just as Merry came out of Bag End, sporting a big white bandage on his right shin.

“What are you talking about, Frodo?” he asked, nearly laughing at the green expression on Sam’s face.

“Scars. Sam’s afraid I’m going to go off and get hurt just because I like the scars,” Frodo replied with a chuckle.

“I never said that, Mr. Frodo!” Sam insisted.

Merry laughed. “Come, Sam, its just a few scars. They look great! They’re our battle wounds.”

Sam raised his hands in exasperation. “You are a strange lot, if you don’t mind my sayin’,” he said with a smile.

Frodo grinned. “We are, Sam. We are.”

“But, Sam, you mean to tell us you don’t have any nice scars of your own?” Merry asked, grinning.

“Course I do. Just not any I particularly like,” he responded. “I don’t care if I got ‘em or not.”

“Did you hear that, Frodo?”

Frodo laughed. “I did.”

“Did I show you my gash since Uncle Bilbo cleaned it up for me?”

Sam just sat back and shook his head while the two cousins continued to show off their scars.

“Just so long as they ain’t gettin’ in too much trouble,” he said to himself and went inside, shaking his head.

~Finis~

A/N: This is just a bit of silliness, really. *grins* It was inspired by my little brother (my Aragorn) who has been trying to get me to buy an Airsoft gun lately. Love Airsoft, but they’re so darn expencive!! Anyways, that’s beside the point. I figured if Saruman had gun powder to blow up Helm’s Deep someone might have invented guns by now (even if they were rare.) Hope you enjoy! *goes to play Airsoft*

~Airsoft~

“What is it?” Sam asked, staring uncertainly at the objects Aragorn had given him and his friends.

“It’s an M-9 Beretta Airsoft Gun,” Aragorn replied, fingering the bigger one he was holding and smiling. “I gave you the pistols because they’re smaller and easier to use. I’ve got some that are nearly as tall as you are.”

Sam looked back at his, then glanced up at Aragorn, still completely confused by it and wondering if the King had been speaking in elvish just then. He hadn’t understood hardly anything he had said.

“How do you use it?” Frodo asked. He examined his closely, then pushed a button on the side, and part of it fell out, crashing to the ground with a clang. He jumped back, then looked up at Aragorn as if asking if that was supposed to happen.

Aragorn laughed. “That’s what you call the clip,” he said as Frodo bent and picked it up. “That’s where you put the bb’s that you shoot out of it.” He showed them a handful of little round colored pebbles.

“You shoot things out of it?” Pippin asked, staring down the barrel of his. “Whatever for?”

“To hit things with,” Aragorn said, quickly grabbing Pippin’s gun and righting it so the tween didn’t shoot his eye. “Targets, animals, people, pretty much anything.”

Sam paled. “Does it kill them?” he asked, suddenly feeling as though he wanted to drop the thing and hightail it away from there.

“No, of course not! Plenty of children have them. Unless you get hit in the eye, it’s perfectly harmless,” Aragorn said with a patient smile at Pippin.

“Why are they called bb’s?” Pippin asked, glancing up at the King, confused.

“Umm…” Aragorn thought for a second. “I don’t know.” He shrugged the question off and said, “Come, and I’ll show you how to use them.”

He led them out to a field behind the palace surrounded with some trees and showed them how to hold the guns and how to load and shoot them properly.

“We’re going to play a game now,” Aragorn said after about half an hour.

“Game?” Pippin said, brightening. “What kind of game?”

Aragorn smiled. “It’s a little like tag, only with airsoft guns. You try to hit people with your bb’s, instead of tagging them with your hands, though. If you’re hit three times, you’re out of the game.”

“Sounds like fun, let’s play!” Merry said, loading and cocking his pistol quickly.

Pippin agreed wholeheartedly. Frodo and Sam agreed, though not as enthusiastically, and Aragorn said, “All right, you can hide in the trees, or you can run around in the field, but I’d suggest sticking to the trees if you don’t want to get hit.”

They agreed, and scattered, hiding in the trees to wait for Aragorn to yell, “Go!”

Frodo knelt behind a tree and listened. Silence. Then finally he heard the heavy footsteps of the Ranger coming up to his tree. He quickly shot out and fired at the unsuspecting Aragorn.

Then suddenly there were shots from three other directions. Before he knew what had hit him, Aragorn had been hit three times and was out of the game.

Smiling ruefully to himself, he went to sit down on a bench to watch the ensuing war amongst the hobbits.

They fought it out for an hour before one of them was shot out. Frodo came to sit on the bench beside him.

“Are you out too?” Aragorn asked, smiling at the hobbit.

Frodo nodded as he climbed onto the bench and slid back, dangling his legs a foot or so over the ground. “My shoulder was beginning to ache, and I wasn’t as fast as I should have been, so they got me.” He laughed. “You should have known better than to play a game that involves hiding with hobbits,” he said. “I’m sure we could beat you every time, if we wanted to.” He looked up at Aragorn impishly.

Aragorn smiled ruefully. “I’m sure your good hearing had something to do with it as well,” he said, looking pointedly at the hobbit. 

Frodo grinned at his friend. “Now, why would that make a difference?” he asked sarcastically.

Aragorn smiled, glad that his dear friend had recovered some of his humor again. He had been far too serious since the Quest had ended and he’d woken up in Ithilien. Any chance to make the hobbit smile and have some fun, Aragorn thought.

“Now, I wonder who’ll be the next one out,” Aragorn said aloud.

Frodo thought a moment. “Probably Pippin, since he can’t stay still very long, he’s most likely to accidentally run in front of a shot,” Frodo replied.

Aragorn and Frodo sat and continued watching the game, and the Ranger was surprised at how fast the hobbits had come up with some pretty good strategies and learned how to play the game nearly as well as people who had played it for years.

But Frodo’s prediction was wrong. Sam was the next one out. He came to sit by his master and said, “I went out a’purpose. I wanted to make sure you were all right, dear.”

Frodo smiled. “Sam, you didn’t have to. I’m just fine, besides, Aragorn’s right here. Nothing would happen to me that he couldn’t fix.”

Sam smiled. “Well, I was gettin’ tired, too. Your cousins have far too much energy for me.”

Frodo laughed. “They do have a lot of energy, don’t they?”

They sat there to watch the rest of the battle, but it didn’t end.

About a half hour later, Frodo said, “Why don’t we go have luncheon and leave them here to fight it out? Knowing them, they won’t get hit until one of them gives in. It could go a while as it is.”

Aragorn nodded. “Sounds good to me. If they want lunch enough, they’ll end it on their own.” He laughed and stood.

“Will you two join me for lunch?” he asked loudly enough for Merry and Pippin to hear him.

“Don’t mind if we do,” Sam replied, just as loud.

Merry and Pippin froze.

“Did you hear that, Mer? They said lunch!” Pippin begain.

“Come on, I’m just about to win anyways, so why not just finish the game?” Merry replied, smirking at his cousin.

“Oh, you were not going to win! I’ve already shot you twice!” Pippin insisted.

“No you have not!”

“Yes I have!”

Frodo heard their exchange, and laughed, then followed Aragorn into the palace, stomach growling. The exercise had made him hungrier than he had been in a long time.

Suddenly he wondered if that had been Aragorn’s purpose in the game. He shrugged off that thought, and laid his gun down in the case Aragorn had pulled it out of. They would have to play again the next day.

~Finis~

~Protect Me~

I said I’d always protect you. I promised all those years ago. But I can’t keep that promise now. I wish I could, but I just can’t. It isn’t like when we were children any more, my dearest, back home. Now I am spending all my energy just to move, just to force myself to smile at you when I wake, to show you that there is some life still left in me, even though it seems long gone. I wish I had more to give you, my love, but I don’t. I wish I could stand right now and wipe the tears I see falling down your cheek away, but I can’t. I have always been your protector. I have always been able to keep your tears at bay with a simple word or touch. Now it is your turn. You must keep my hopes up now, or else this whole venture will be for naught. I shouldn’t have to ask this of you, but I know you will take on this responsibility as you have every other one, with confidence. If you don’t we will fail. It all rests on you now. And I am sorry for it.

~Finis~

A/N: Sequal to Protect Me.

~Always~

I know you’ve always thought t’was your job to take care of me, Mr. Frodo, but I’ve always known, you was put here for me to watch over. And I’ve done a right fine job so far, seems to me. Till now. I’m tryin’ as best I can, but there are forces at work here in this dark place I can’t see, and they’re gettin’ at you, and I can’t stop them. I can see it when you look at me, your eyes apologizin’ for whatever you think you’ve done wrong. Tisn’t your fault, me dear. Ever since Mum died, you’ve been able to help me feel better, kept me happy, but now I can see there’s naught left of you to help me. It’s my turn now, my dear. I must try to keep this darkness at bay, though I know it’s probably hopeless. If I give up now, you’ll never make it, and I can’t do that to you. I am sorry I can’t help more.

~Finis~

~The Pirates of Bag End: Part Two~

“Get ready to sail, First Mate!” Pippin called to his cousin as he stood atop the deck, hands on the wheel, sailing his ship out to sea. “There’s still a chance we can save the lady Elizabeth!”

“Aye, Captain Sparrow!” Sam called back, then went to unfurl the sails.

“Merry, bring me my rum!” Pippin yelled to Merry, who was sitting in a nearby chair, looking to be asleep. He paid no heed to the captain. “MERRY!” Pippin repeated, kicking the leg of the chair.

Merry jolted awake, nearly falling off the chair, and Pippin giggled, momentarily forgetting his fearsome pirate façade.

“What, Pippin?” Merry demanded.

Pippin straightened. “That’s Captain Sparrow to you, you miscreant! I said, bring me my rum!” he ordered.

Merry bowed with a sarcastic flourish, then dashed off to find the empty wine bottle Pippin had been playing with earlier.

“AND MY HAT!” Pippin called after him, noticing that his floppy hat was not on his head.

“We’re coming up to the island, sir!” Sam called, pointing in the distance to where the island stood on the horizon.

“Aye, I see it,” Pippin said.

* * *

Gandalf stood in the hallway, amused by all of Merry and Sam and Pippin’s pirate chatter in the other room.

“You’d think they actually believed they were pirates,” he whispered to Frodo, standing next to him.

Frodo smiled. “They will believe anything they pretend if you let them pretend long enough,” he replied. “Last summer it took us forever to get Pippin to stop saying his mother was a fairy, just because he had heard someone say the Tooks might be related to fairies and he made up a story about Aunt Tina being a fairy.”

Rosie chuckled from where she was sitting on the floor beside them.

“My brother Jolly was like that when we was little. But he’d believe anything anyone else told him as well as stuff he’d made up,” she said. Suddenly she yawned. “Do you think they’ve found the island yet? I’m right tired of bein’ kidnapped, Mr. Frodo.”

“I’m sure you are. Sounds like they’re just about landed to me,” Frodo replied. “You shouldn’t be held here too long, Rose.” He gave her a sympathetic smile and she grinned.

Suddenly the three scallywags rushed into the room and Pippin thrust his wooden sword at Frodo.

“Hand her over, Flint!” he demanded, looking at his cousin with his most fearsome pirate face.

Sam giggled, then went to stand by Rosie as Frodo pulled his own sword out. “Oh, I suppose I’ll have to fight you, then. I won’t hand her over for anything!” he cried dashing at Pippin.

For a moment they engaged in a fairly comical duel, while Merry, Sam, Rosie and Gandalf sat by laughing.

Pippin finally managed to disarm Frodo (though he didn’t do it on his own. Frodo started to feel bad when Pippin was most obviously getting the worst end of the deal), and he leaped up, victorious as Frodo backed away.

“All right, Captain Sparrow! You can have her!” Frodo said, going to stand beside Gandalf. “I’m too tired to fight you more anyhow.” He smiled at his cousin.

Pippin grinned. “I’ve won!” he cried. “Will, we’ve freed your girlfriend! Now you two can live happily ever after on my ship as pirates!”

Sam blushed again. “She’s not my girlfriend, Captain Sparrow!” he protested.

Rosie laughed. “Captain Sparrow seems to be havin’ a joke at yer expense, Sam,” she said.

Sam was quiet for a moment, then said, “Oh,” and fell silent again, still blushing.

“Well, that was a fun game,” Merry said. “But really, I think the story should be more original next time.”

“Like what?” Pippin asked, glancing around for inspiration as to what their next adventure could be.

“Like this!” Merry grabbed Pippin’s hat from his head and dashed down the hall.

“HEY! THAT’S MY HAT!” Pippin cried, and dashed after him.

“Well, I’d best take Rosie home and get on home meself,” Sam said, smiling. “My Gaffer’ll be expectin’ me and I don’t think he’d appreciate it if I spent all afternoon playin’. I’d love to, though.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to make your gaffer mad, though, so you get on home, Sam-lad,” Frodo said, giving his friend a hug. “See you both later!” he said as he showed them out the door. “Come by later to help with supper, Sam?” he added, winking at his friend.

Sam smiled. “Sure will, Mr. Frodo!” he called. “And I’ll help clean up whatever yer cousins’ve broken while they’re here.”

“Good bye, Sam!”

Frodo headed inside where he found Gandalf sitting in the hallway, listening with an amused smile to the rambunctious chatter of the two young hobbits still chasing each other around in the halls.

“I’ll let them run their energy out and then Pippin might actually go to bed tonight. He seems to forget he’s nearly twenty years younger than me, and thinks I need as little sleep as he does,” Frodo said with a chuckle, explaining to the wizard why he wasn’t trying to calm the two down.

Gandalf chuckled. “Hobbits,” he muttered under his breath.

~Finis~

A/N: Birthday story for Antane!! I'm sorry it's so late, mellon nin, but I hope you like it! Love, Elanor

~I can't~

Sam dropped the book into his lap with a sigh. “I can’t do this, Mr. Frodo!” he moaned. “I”ve been tryin’, and I just can’t!”

Frodo smiled patiently at his young friend. “Of course you can, Sam. Just take the word a little slower and sound out each letter.” He lifted the book and put it back in Sam’s hands. “One more try, lad.”

Sam gave Frodo a look that clearly said he was sure the whole venture would be a failure, but tried again anyways.

Slowly he sounded out the word that had been giving him difficulty.

“Yes, Sam! That’s it!” Frodo cried triumphantly.

* * *

Sam glanced up at Frodo with a tear-stained face as the older hobbit came into the room.

“I came as fast as I could when I heard,” Frodo said, kneeling down beside his friend.

Sam sat quietly for a moment, attempting to stop his tears. Then he threw himself into Frodo’s arms and said, “I can’t do this, Mr. Frodo! I can’t go on with Mum gone! And Ham’s away in Tightfield and Hal’s being all gloomy and the girls are all bein’ snappish! I just can’t!”  He burst into tears as Frodo held him tightly.

“Yes, you can, Sam. I know it will be hard at first, but you know I’m here for you, and so’s Bilbo,” Frodo whispered in his ear. “Just keep holding on to us and we won’t let you fall.”

* * *

The water looked pretty deep as far as Sam could tell. He felt his stomach sick when he saw the elegant boats waiting for them.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Frodo standing behind him.

“I can’t do this, Mr. Frodo. I can’t get on that thing on the water.” He glanced at his friend helplessly, hoping Frodo would be able to find some way around this.

“Of course you can, Sam. Merry and I have grown up in boats, and you know Aragorn won’t let anything happen to you.” He smiled encouragingly at Sam, then grabbed his hand and helped him into the boat.

* * *

Frodo slumped to the ground, leaning against a rock. Exhausted, he glanced up at the mountain just ahead, looming in the distance, then glanced over at Sam, sitting down next to him.

“I can’t do this, Sam,” he said quietly, almost as if he were talking to himself. “I can’t go on. The mountain’s too high, the burden too heavy… I can’t…” he gave off, glancing back at the mountain in utter despair as Sam drew his friend into his arms.

“Yes you can, Mr. Frodo. I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to try! You know I’m here for you and I’ll try to protect you as best I can. Just don’t give up, Mr. Frodo. Don’t give up.”

~The End~