FIC: Untitled as yet (PG) by Febobe for MEWSIE!
This is a fic for Mewsie, which I will also post to the Mewsie-specific comm later today...but I'd like to put it here, too! I'll also toss a link over to the fffc, as they requested Mewsfics not too long ago. :) Enjoy, Mewsie and everyone...Shirebound, I think this is more your sort of fic than some of mine are, so you might enjoy reading too! Hugs to all the sweet and gentle souls out there. :)
The PG is just in case there's any sad or medical parts later; I don't expect this to be a very graphic fic in anything but food. It might even merit a G instead. I'm not sure...when I have all the chapters up, y'all can help me decide that. :)
Yes, I am aware that this could be the world's shortest chapter. I may try to flesh that out later and maybe merge a short chapter one and short chapter two together to form ONE chapter before ff.net or other comms. Have patience with my WIP nature, please. :)
Aragorn and hobbits to appear in the upcoming chapters...Bilbo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin! :)
Love,
Febobe :)
CHAPTER ONE
It seemed that all of Rivendell had come out to celebrate, Frodo mused as he looked on from his vantage point in the chair the elves had piled with cushions to raise him to the table. He felt quite awkward and out of place at the head table with Elrond himself, and would almost rather have been permitted to eat with the other hobbits where they sat at one of the lower tables not so far away. But the elves had said that he must sit here, and so here he was, though it all felt very overwhelming. Frodo was sorry that he did not feel especially hungry, for there was plenty of wonderful food, roast goose and applesauce, roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, baked mushrooms, even turkey, white and dark meat sliced up on platters for serving. There were sweet potatoes, too, cooked with some kind of fruit and lots of brown sugar, which smelled simply wonderful.
But Frodo could not bring himself to do much more than push small helpings around on his plate.
He could not help it. He simply did not feel very hungry, and in truth the room seemed very cold. He would rather have been in his bed, in his room, with a cup of broth and some cambric tea instead, and plenty of blankets to wrap up in. But it would be very rude to leave the feast held in his honour, so he sat as quietly as he could and sipped at a mug of hot apple cider, trying not to look as miserable as he felt. Lord Elrond looked as if he were trying to keep some eye on Frodo and how he was eating, but people kept talking to him, wanting his attention, and so he seemed to be having difficulty paying much attention to the Ringbearer.
But at last, when the talking and laughing had reached a fever pitch, Frodo felt he could bear no more. He would have to return to his room, and send back apologies to Lord Elrond and Lady Arwen. Cautiously he climbed down from his perch atop the cushions, waiting to do so till Elrond was engaged in a serious-looking conversation with some other elf, and made his way toward the door, ignoring the questions of the elves attempting to wait on him and offer him more to eat or drink. He had to reach his room. He *had* to. And quickly.
Suddenly, though, not half a dozen feet from the door, Frodo felt his legs buckle beneath him. He sank, feeling dizzy and faint, and knew no more at that time.
-to be continued-
The PG is just in case there's any sad or medical parts later; I don't expect this to be a very graphic fic in anything but food. It might even merit a G instead. I'm not sure...when I have all the chapters up, y'all can help me decide that. :)
Yes, I am aware that this could be the world's shortest chapter. I may try to flesh that out later and maybe merge a short chapter one and short chapter two together to form ONE chapter before ff.net or other comms. Have patience with my WIP nature, please. :)
Aragorn and hobbits to appear in the upcoming chapters...Bilbo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin! :)
Love,
Febobe :)
CHAPTER ONE
It seemed that all of Rivendell had come out to celebrate, Frodo mused as he looked on from his vantage point in the chair the elves had piled with cushions to raise him to the table. He felt quite awkward and out of place at the head table with Elrond himself, and would almost rather have been permitted to eat with the other hobbits where they sat at one of the lower tables not so far away. But the elves had said that he must sit here, and so here he was, though it all felt very overwhelming. Frodo was sorry that he did not feel especially hungry, for there was plenty of wonderful food, roast goose and applesauce, roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, baked mushrooms, even turkey, white and dark meat sliced up on platters for serving. There were sweet potatoes, too, cooked with some kind of fruit and lots of brown sugar, which smelled simply wonderful.
But Frodo could not bring himself to do much more than push small helpings around on his plate.
He could not help it. He simply did not feel very hungry, and in truth the room seemed very cold. He would rather have been in his bed, in his room, with a cup of broth and some cambric tea instead, and plenty of blankets to wrap up in. But it would be very rude to leave the feast held in his honour, so he sat as quietly as he could and sipped at a mug of hot apple cider, trying not to look as miserable as he felt. Lord Elrond looked as if he were trying to keep some eye on Frodo and how he was eating, but people kept talking to him, wanting his attention, and so he seemed to be having difficulty paying much attention to the Ringbearer.
But at last, when the talking and laughing had reached a fever pitch, Frodo felt he could bear no more. He would have to return to his room, and send back apologies to Lord Elrond and Lady Arwen. Cautiously he climbed down from his perch atop the cushions, waiting to do so till Elrond was engaged in a serious-looking conversation with some other elf, and made his way toward the door, ignoring the questions of the elves attempting to wait on him and offer him more to eat or drink. He had to reach his room. He *had* to. And quickly.
Suddenly, though, not half a dozen feet from the door, Frodo felt his legs buckle beneath him. He sank, feeling dizzy and faint, and knew no more at that time.
-to be continued-