I'm rather excited to share with you my first foray into writing hobbits! Written for @aspecardaweek. Five poignant moments between Bilbo and Frodo Baggins over the course of their long friendship, and one moment between Frodo and Sam.
Bilbo supposed that he had been watching young Frodo for altogether too long when Rorymac nudged him good-naturedly. “There’s still time for it, old as you are; plenty of lasses as likes a silver fox. I could name a few this side of the Brandywine.”
The master of Brandy Hall had so often tried to coax Bilbo into husband and fatherhood that Bilbo had long ago lost count of his attempts. Rorymac seemed to think the inescapable, genial chaos of his household should be especially appealing to everyone. Bilbo did enjoy the rowdy company, but only in moderate doses. “Oh, come off it. I’m not interested; and I’ve told you as much enough times for you to remember it.”
“So you have, but one can hope.”
“My dear Rorymac, whatever can you mean?”
Rorymac laughed. “You saw the little ones’ eyes near pop out of their sockets when you told of hungry wolves crossing the frozen Brandywine! You’re a dab hand with youngsters.”
“What I’m a ‘dab hand’ with, is stories. I should pity the infant entrusted to my care! No, it’s merely that the young have yet to become so stuffy and proper as to forget they enjoy an adventuresome tale. ‘Respectable’, adult folk, on the other hand, delight only in scandal.”
“So says Hobbiton’s most incorrigible gossip!”
There was little Bilbo could say to that, so he changed tact. “You saw the miller rolling his eyes.”
“More fool him,” Rorymac declared, “if he cannot appreciate your flair for the dramatic then we must allow him his petty entertainments.”
“Fool he is, indeed,” agreed Bilbo. He didn’t much like the miller. Dreadfully dull fellow, he was, dealing spitefully in the mundane, and apt to drag any who gossiped with him down to his level. For all Bilbo enjoyed a delectable tidbit, his tastes were decidedly more high-minded. “It’s Frodo that has my eye.”
“Primula’s son?” Rorymac asked, and Bilbo nodded. As Bilbo had regaled the hall with his tale, the lad had sat quiet and attentive at the back of the gaggle of children, while the other youngsters giggled and jostled for space.
As they watched, Frodo brandished a wooden sword in the air and cried out to the ‘wolves’ his playmates aped to “get gone,” while his father laughingly admonished: “watch where you wave that stick, lad. It’ll put someone’s eye out.” Frodo, little abashed by the chastisement, caught them watching and grinned.
“He’s something, my nephew, isn’t he?” Rorymac crowed proudly.
“The lad has spirit. Shy as a tortoise while I spoke, but magnificent when roused from his shell. You should watch him, Rory. I’ll wager that young Frodo has an adventure or two in him.”
“The old Tookishness shines through.”
“Dear Mirabella would be delighted, if she lived still. A shame she does not,” Bilbo lamented, recalling Rorymac’s old mum (a bit Tookish herself) with fondness. Across the room, Frodo had begun chasing after several other young hobbits who promptly forgot that wolves run on four legs and dodged deftly away. “What do you mean, ‘silver fox’?”
“You should have sprouted a few grey hairs by now,” Rorymac complained. “It isn’t natural.”
Read the rest on A03
