A Father's Day Mathom II: Another First Milestone

By: Elemmírë

Summary: Drogo receives a special Father's Day mathom from his son. Frodo is 9 months old. (for purposes of this story, 9 months is 9 months & won't be converted to Man years as I usually do.)

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings does not belong to me, nor am I making any profit off either its story or characters.

It was late afternoon on a balmy Father's Day afternoon in the Shire. It was Drogo Baggins first official Father's Day and he glanced from the keeping of his ledger at his desk to where his infant son was sitting on the floor. Frodo was gripping his wooden rattle in one hand, gumming it, while playing with small wooden blocks with the other hand. The blocks had bright letters of the alphabet painted on them and were a recent gift from Drogo's sister, Dora. Frodo drooled down the length of the rattle onto the bib he wore and fumbled to pick up one of the wooden blocks.

Seeing that Frodo was into no mischief, Drogo returned to tallying the ledger. His wife, Primula, was taking a much-needed nap in their bedroom while Drogo minded their son this afternoon. Several minutes later, he grew concerned when he no longer heard the dull knocking of the small wooden blocks. Drogo looked down from his desk only to discover the blocks and rattle discarded on the throw rug by the cold hearth. Frodo was nowhere to be seen.

As any new father, he began to panic and was about to call aloud for Frodo when he felt a sharp tugging at his foothair. "Ouch!"

Looking down, Drogo was quite relieved to find his wayward infant son. "There you are, my lad! Now, how did you get here?" he wondered.

The most logical explanation dawned and Drogo smiled as he scooped the babe into his strong arms. He walked across the sitting room and deposited Frodo onto the floor before returning to the opposite side of the room.

"Frodo? Come here, Frodo!" Drogo called out and was disappointed when the nine-month old just looked at him briefly.

Frodo merely sat where he was placed and babbled nonsensically to himself, playing with his bare toes. He paid no heed to his father's calls.

Drogo frowned. Perhaps his theory was incorrect after all ... besides, nine months was a bit early for hobbitlings to start crawling. He returned to his desk, but kept a discreet eye on his son while pretending to write in his ledger. He continued to hope against all odds.

Soon enough, Frodo grew bored with his toes and rocked forward on his bottom until he gained his hands and knees. He began a shaky crawl towards his father.

Drogo turned in his chair and encouraged the little one to come to him, beaming with pride at his son's first crawling.

Frodo fell a few times onto his nappied bottom, but he would rock back up and continue his seemingly long journey across the sitting room with stubborn determination until he was once again at his father's feet. He tugged on his father's curly foothair for attention.

"Duh!" he crowed and Drogo recognized his lad's sound for Dad. "Duh! Duh!"

Drogo swept the little one into his arms and kissed him, making Frodo laugh. He couldn't have asked for a better Father's Day mathom from his son.

~The End~