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Entry tags:
Fic: Friends and Family
Fandom: The Lord of the Rings
Word Count: 658
Rating: G
Summary: Frodo doesn't mean to get Sam in trouble, honest. But he doesn't understand why Mrs. Gamgee is so angry. Bilbo, on the other hand, is not quite ready for uncomfortable questions from his young nephew.
“That blasted boy is the problem, that’s what! Putting ideas into my son’s head, you watch, he’ll disappear one day and it will be because of that family!”
Frodo looked at Sam, who was staring at his toes. “Your ma seems really mad,” he whispered.
Sam didn’t reply.
“And another thing—!” But then the door closed, and all Frodo could hear was Mrs. Gamgee’s irate tone and Mr. Gamgee’s staid, solid voice soothing over the latest batch of trouble he and Sam had gotten into.
Which, yes, they probably shouldn’t have played with the sheets at all, but they were dirty sheets, not the clean ones hanging, and they were going to get washed eventually anyway… And everyone knew you couldn’t go on ‘ventures without a proper cloak and sleeping roll.
Frodo stared absently into the fire. Maybe it was because Sam didn’t do well out in the rivers and forest. Sam never liked the towering trees, or the rushing water. Frodo didn’t think those things were nice, but he wasn’t nervous around them, not the way Sam was. Scared, Frodo used to think, but Sam wasn’t really scared – he did it, didn’t he? He just didn’t enjoy going so far from home.
That night, as Uncle Bilbo was tucking Frodo into his bed, Frodo decided to ask. “Uncle Bilbo?” he asked.
His uncle paused, brown hair faded and going white at the temples. “Yes, Frodo?” he asked, voice soft.
“Does Mrs. Gamgee want us to stay closer to home when we play?”
Uncle Bilbo’s face went sad, droopy around the edges. “I think,” he said quietly, “that it might be best to let her calm down on her own. Perhaps we ought to find other friends to play with until she is happier with you and Samwise.”
Frodo frowned. “But Sam is my best friend.”
“I know, dear Frodo, I know. But his mother wants him to stay safe, doesn’t want him to go off the way you… the way you used to, you understand?” Uncle Bilbo smiled, but it didn’t look very happy.
“I’m not going to get him in trouble anymore, I promise!” Frodo said, grasping at Uncle Bilbo’s wrist. “We’ll play in the, in the home. We won’t go outside!”
Uncle Bilbo quickly shook his head. “No, no, Frodo. No. You, you are a young hobbit, a creature of sun and earth and life. Your friend’s mum, Mrs. Gamgee, she does not like me. She doesn’t like that the darkness, the terrors of this world – that it can touch our sanctuary. Our home here.”
“I don’t understand, Uncle Bilbo.” Frodo frowned down at the sheets. “Why does – why does Mrs. Gamgee not like you?”
Uncle Bilbo sighed, shaking his head. “Maybe you should spend some time with your cousins. Little Merry is a real handful, I hear.”
With that, Uncle Bilbo left the room, turning down the lamp, and Frodo snuggled into the sheets, staring up at the dark ceiling. Not much of what Uncle Bilbo said made sense, but Frodo understood, at least conceptually, that Mrs. Gamgee didn’t like Uncle Bilbo, and so didn’t like Frodo, and so didn’t want Sam with Frodo that much. And it wasn’t a hard train of thought to follow, not when he remembered Uncle Bilbo would pay Mr. Gamgee money to pick up groceries and supplies. Uncle Bilbo didn’t walk often among the others, not even at market day, and Frodo’s nanny, Mrs. Boffin, didn’t speak kindly of Uncle Bilbo when she took Frodo down to market to buy supplies for her home and her children.
Frodo frowned determinedly at the ceiling. Well, Uncle Bilbo was his, and he didn’t like people talking bad about Uncle, not one bit. He’d be a good little hobbit, so that he could play with Sam, and he’d do his best never to get Sam in trouble again, but he wasn’t ever going to apologize for his Uncle.
Not ever.
Word Count: 658
Rating: G
Summary: Frodo doesn't mean to get Sam in trouble, honest. But he doesn't understand why Mrs. Gamgee is so angry. Bilbo, on the other hand, is not quite ready for uncomfortable questions from his young nephew.
“That blasted boy is the problem, that’s what! Putting ideas into my son’s head, you watch, he’ll disappear one day and it will be because of that family!”
Frodo looked at Sam, who was staring at his toes. “Your ma seems really mad,” he whispered.
Sam didn’t reply.
“And another thing—!” But then the door closed, and all Frodo could hear was Mrs. Gamgee’s irate tone and Mr. Gamgee’s staid, solid voice soothing over the latest batch of trouble he and Sam had gotten into.
Which, yes, they probably shouldn’t have played with the sheets at all, but they were dirty sheets, not the clean ones hanging, and they were going to get washed eventually anyway… And everyone knew you couldn’t go on ‘ventures without a proper cloak and sleeping roll.
Frodo stared absently into the fire. Maybe it was because Sam didn’t do well out in the rivers and forest. Sam never liked the towering trees, or the rushing water. Frodo didn’t think those things were nice, but he wasn’t nervous around them, not the way Sam was. Scared, Frodo used to think, but Sam wasn’t really scared – he did it, didn’t he? He just didn’t enjoy going so far from home.
That night, as Uncle Bilbo was tucking Frodo into his bed, Frodo decided to ask. “Uncle Bilbo?” he asked.
His uncle paused, brown hair faded and going white at the temples. “Yes, Frodo?” he asked, voice soft.
“Does Mrs. Gamgee want us to stay closer to home when we play?”
Uncle Bilbo’s face went sad, droopy around the edges. “I think,” he said quietly, “that it might be best to let her calm down on her own. Perhaps we ought to find other friends to play with until she is happier with you and Samwise.”
Frodo frowned. “But Sam is my best friend.”
“I know, dear Frodo, I know. But his mother wants him to stay safe, doesn’t want him to go off the way you… the way you used to, you understand?” Uncle Bilbo smiled, but it didn’t look very happy.
“I’m not going to get him in trouble anymore, I promise!” Frodo said, grasping at Uncle Bilbo’s wrist. “We’ll play in the, in the home. We won’t go outside!”
Uncle Bilbo quickly shook his head. “No, no, Frodo. No. You, you are a young hobbit, a creature of sun and earth and life. Your friend’s mum, Mrs. Gamgee, she does not like me. She doesn’t like that the darkness, the terrors of this world – that it can touch our sanctuary. Our home here.”
“I don’t understand, Uncle Bilbo.” Frodo frowned down at the sheets. “Why does – why does Mrs. Gamgee not like you?”
Uncle Bilbo sighed, shaking his head. “Maybe you should spend some time with your cousins. Little Merry is a real handful, I hear.”
With that, Uncle Bilbo left the room, turning down the lamp, and Frodo snuggled into the sheets, staring up at the dark ceiling. Not much of what Uncle Bilbo said made sense, but Frodo understood, at least conceptually, that Mrs. Gamgee didn’t like Uncle Bilbo, and so didn’t like Frodo, and so didn’t want Sam with Frodo that much. And it wasn’t a hard train of thought to follow, not when he remembered Uncle Bilbo would pay Mr. Gamgee money to pick up groceries and supplies. Uncle Bilbo didn’t walk often among the others, not even at market day, and Frodo’s nanny, Mrs. Boffin, didn’t speak kindly of Uncle Bilbo when she took Frodo down to market to buy supplies for her home and her children.
Frodo frowned determinedly at the ceiling. Well, Uncle Bilbo was his, and he didn’t like people talking bad about Uncle, not one bit. He’d be a good little hobbit, so that he could play with Sam, and he’d do his best never to get Sam in trouble again, but he wasn’t ever going to apologize for his Uncle.
Not ever.