For Periantari ( bet you thought I forgot, didn't you?)
My dear Baggins, aka Periantari, did me a very big favor a while back and she asked me to post this story but I got so busy that I'm just getting to it today. Sorry to be so late, Periantari. I am hopeless!
Anyway, I originally wrote this for a B2MEM prompt but never got it posted due to issues with posting from my iPad. I hope I have those sorted now. Anyway, by request from Periantari, here's a bit of fiction featuring Frodo and Merry.
Back to Middle earth month challenge: Write a story or poem or create artwork using one or more animals as symbols, omens, or metaphors. Use associations and meanings from any culture or source you wish (e.g., Celtic, Native American, Biblical). From 3-24-16
Format: Short story.
Genre: General
Warnings: none
Characters: Frodo, Merry, Eowyn, Eomer, and OCs
Pairings: none
Summary: People don't always see the value of those around them and sometimes they misjudge someone based on appearance.
l
A Mouse Among Warriors
“Merry? What are you doing over here on your own?” Frodo asked quietly as he sat down beside his younger cousin. “Everyone else is at the Hall getting ready for luncheon.”
“Shhh, you’ll scare it away,” Merry whispered pointing toward a small, grey field mouse that had scurried out onto the field to nibble on a bit of stale bread that someone had discarded.
The tiny creature sat on its haunches and nippled the bread, all the while remaining alert for the first sign of predators. It's whiskers twitched and its tiny, black, button, eyes were wide and moving from side to side. It was ever vigilant.
Frodo smiled. “Bilbo always liked mice,” he said, softly.
“Why? They're cowardly. Look at it. It's ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble,” Merry pointed out equally quiet. “All I'd have to do to scare it off is snap my fingers.”
“Bilbo says that mice are among the bravest creatures in all Middle earth,” Frodo said.
“Not braver than wolves or Bulls, or even fierce sheep dogs. Look at it, sitting there,” Merry said with distaste. “It's cute I guess and it is interesting to watch, but it's cowardly. It will run at the first sign of trouble.”
“I think Bilbo is right, Merry,” Frodo said.
“How can he be? A bird could frighten it off. It isn't brave at all,” Merry objected. “And folks always call others mice if they aren't brave. They'll say ‘are you a hobbit or a scared mouse?’ If they want to tease you. My cousin, Berilac called me a mouse just last week. He said I was afraid to hit him.”
“Being called a mouse should be a compliment,” Frodo said.
“Sometimes what they say about Bilbo is right,” Merry whispered, frowning. “He can be a big of an odd duck.”
“I tend to think that Bilbo goes his own way and doesn't rely on the opinions of others,” Frodo said a bit sternly to show he didn't approve the sixteen-year-old’s assessment of their beloved, if slightly eccentric, older cousin.
Merry sighed. “Look at the mouse, Frodo. It can't be enjoying that bread. It's too frightened that something will come along and attack it. It's eating but it's scare to death.”
“That's what you see, but if you look closer, things are much different,” Frodo said. “This is a big field, isn't it?”
“Yes.”
“Can you run across it without getting winded?”
“Maybe, but if I was to run at top speed, I'd be out of breath when I got to the trees,” Merry allowed.
“Now, imagine that you are no bigger than that mouse. Could you run to the other side of this field easily? Could you even see across the field?”
“It would be a long run for something so small,” Merry said slowly. “It's low to the ground so it probably can see over the high grass, so I guess it can't see across the field at all.”
“Now, imagine that you have to find your lunch. No one is about to bring it to you or fit it for you. Even though a fine luncheon has been laid out on the table in Brandy Hall even as we speak and is awaiting your arrival, pretend that isn't so. Instead, you have to find your lunch as best you can. You're small so you can't kill or trap much of anything and you like sweets and cheese when you can get them but you aren't picky. You'll gladly eat what you can find. A few left over beans, some berries, or if you are very lucky, you might find a crust of bread. The trouble is, everything, or most things are bigger than you are, so you have to careful. There are things in Middle earth that consider you to be a fine meal.” Frodo paused and pointed to the mouse again. “How brave would you need to be to come out of your hole into the wide world in search of food?”
Merry looked intently at the mouse. “So it has to be brave?”
“Or it doesn't eat.”
“But it looks so frightened,” Merry whispered.
“Being brave is all about over-coming your fears and doing what you must. It wouldn't be brave at all for you to walk into the middle of an open field here in the Shire and sit down to have your lunch, would it?” Frodo said.
“No.”
“But isn't it brave of that little mouse to do so? It has no idea what dangers it might have to face but it's there all alone, taking the risk so it can find food and survive. As you said earlier, anything could attack it. What if a cat came through the tall grass right now? What if an old barn owl or a hawk were sitting in a nearby tree waiting to swoop down and make a meal of our small friend?”
Merry blinked and looked respectfully at the mouse. “So, it is brave,” he said in a hushed tone. “Bilbo’s right after all. It's small, but it's very brave.”
“I find that Bilbo is usually right, Merry. You might remember that in the future,” Frodo said firmly.
Just then, a twig snapped and the mouse dropped the remaining bread and ran quickly into the tall grass without a pause.
“Run fast, little mouse,” Merry said softly. “Be brave and don't get caught.”
“Let’s go to lunch, Merry,” Frodo said. “Your folks will be wondering where we are. I was sent to find you and bring you home, but so far I've only managed half of that.”
“Look at him, playing at soldiering,” the gruff man said grinning over toward the young hobbit who was slashing his sword through the air and side-stepping invisible enemies.
“My uncle won't allow him to ride into battle with us,” Eomer said softly. “For his own safety, Master Holdwine’s battles must all be the stuff of make believe. On a true field of battle he would be crushed beneath the boots of our enemies. He has a stout heart but he doesn't have the size to make a proper soldier.”
“You men! You look but you don't see,” Eowyn said frowning at her brother and the others of his company.
“With all respect, my lady, it's you who fail to see,” said one of the soldiers. “Putting the halfling into a battle would be like allowing a mouse to fight off a stallion.”
Several of the men laughed at this and Eowyn glared fiercely at her brother until his grin faded. “How easily you make sport of one whose courage you do not understand,” Eowyn said. “Do you doubt the bravery of one who would ride into battle beside us and fight to defend these lands?”
“I don't doubt his bravery, only his abilities,” Eomer said, gently. “Were he of a height equal to his nerve and valor, then I would gladly ride by his side against any foe.”
“He's a mouse with the heart of a lion and therefore not fit for battle,” the gruff man who had spoken first said. As he spoke, Meriadoc Brandybuck, known to the Men of Rohan as Master Holdwine's, walked up to the group carrying his sword in one hand and wearing a hard expression on his face.
He walked over and looked directly into the face of the man and said, “If I am a mouse, then you'd best be on your guard for you know little of the bravery of those, small creatures. They face impossible odds every day and survive. I am honoured that you compare me to a mouse on the eve of a battle. There are few braver in all of creation than mice.”
“I meant no harm, Master Holdwine,” the soldier said, looking properly chastised.
“And no harm was done,” Merry said. “If I must earn your respect, then I can do so if given a chance. I know that hobbits must seem no more than children to you, but you will find that like mice, we are brave when there is a need.”
Having said this, Merry turned and walked toward his tent, his sword still in his hand. He might have been angry or embarrassed by the remarks of the soldiers, but just now, his mind was filled with memories of Frodo, Bilbo, and a small mouse eating a crust of bread.
GW. 3/25/2016
Anyway, I originally wrote this for a B2MEM prompt but never got it posted due to issues with posting from my iPad. I hope I have those sorted now. Anyway, by request from Periantari, here's a bit of fiction featuring Frodo and Merry.
Back to Middle earth month challenge: Write a story or poem or create artwork using one or more animals as symbols, omens, or metaphors. Use associations and meanings from any culture or source you wish (e.g., Celtic, Native American, Biblical). From 3-24-16
Format: Short story.
Genre: General
Warnings: none
Characters: Frodo, Merry, Eowyn, Eomer, and OCs
Pairings: none
Summary: People don't always see the value of those around them and sometimes they misjudge someone based on appearance.
l
A Mouse Among Warriors
“Merry? What are you doing over here on your own?” Frodo asked quietly as he sat down beside his younger cousin. “Everyone else is at the Hall getting ready for luncheon.”
“Shhh, you’ll scare it away,” Merry whispered pointing toward a small, grey field mouse that had scurried out onto the field to nibble on a bit of stale bread that someone had discarded.
The tiny creature sat on its haunches and nippled the bread, all the while remaining alert for the first sign of predators. It's whiskers twitched and its tiny, black, button, eyes were wide and moving from side to side. It was ever vigilant.
Frodo smiled. “Bilbo always liked mice,” he said, softly.
“Why? They're cowardly. Look at it. It's ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble,” Merry pointed out equally quiet. “All I'd have to do to scare it off is snap my fingers.”
“Bilbo says that mice are among the bravest creatures in all Middle earth,” Frodo said.
“Not braver than wolves or Bulls, or even fierce sheep dogs. Look at it, sitting there,” Merry said with distaste. “It's cute I guess and it is interesting to watch, but it's cowardly. It will run at the first sign of trouble.”
“I think Bilbo is right, Merry,” Frodo said.
“How can he be? A bird could frighten it off. It isn't brave at all,” Merry objected. “And folks always call others mice if they aren't brave. They'll say ‘are you a hobbit or a scared mouse?’ If they want to tease you. My cousin, Berilac called me a mouse just last week. He said I was afraid to hit him.”
“Being called a mouse should be a compliment,” Frodo said.
“Sometimes what they say about Bilbo is right,” Merry whispered, frowning. “He can be a big of an odd duck.”
“I tend to think that Bilbo goes his own way and doesn't rely on the opinions of others,” Frodo said a bit sternly to show he didn't approve the sixteen-year-old’s assessment of their beloved, if slightly eccentric, older cousin.
Merry sighed. “Look at the mouse, Frodo. It can't be enjoying that bread. It's too frightened that something will come along and attack it. It's eating but it's scare to death.”
“That's what you see, but if you look closer, things are much different,” Frodo said. “This is a big field, isn't it?”
“Yes.”
“Can you run across it without getting winded?”
“Maybe, but if I was to run at top speed, I'd be out of breath when I got to the trees,” Merry allowed.
“Now, imagine that you are no bigger than that mouse. Could you run to the other side of this field easily? Could you even see across the field?”
“It would be a long run for something so small,” Merry said slowly. “It's low to the ground so it probably can see over the high grass, so I guess it can't see across the field at all.”
“Now, imagine that you have to find your lunch. No one is about to bring it to you or fit it for you. Even though a fine luncheon has been laid out on the table in Brandy Hall even as we speak and is awaiting your arrival, pretend that isn't so. Instead, you have to find your lunch as best you can. You're small so you can't kill or trap much of anything and you like sweets and cheese when you can get them but you aren't picky. You'll gladly eat what you can find. A few left over beans, some berries, or if you are very lucky, you might find a crust of bread. The trouble is, everything, or most things are bigger than you are, so you have to careful. There are things in Middle earth that consider you to be a fine meal.” Frodo paused and pointed to the mouse again. “How brave would you need to be to come out of your hole into the wide world in search of food?”
Merry looked intently at the mouse. “So it has to be brave?”
“Or it doesn't eat.”
“But it looks so frightened,” Merry whispered.
“Being brave is all about over-coming your fears and doing what you must. It wouldn't be brave at all for you to walk into the middle of an open field here in the Shire and sit down to have your lunch, would it?” Frodo said.
“No.”
“But isn't it brave of that little mouse to do so? It has no idea what dangers it might have to face but it's there all alone, taking the risk so it can find food and survive. As you said earlier, anything could attack it. What if a cat came through the tall grass right now? What if an old barn owl or a hawk were sitting in a nearby tree waiting to swoop down and make a meal of our small friend?”
Merry blinked and looked respectfully at the mouse. “So, it is brave,” he said in a hushed tone. “Bilbo’s right after all. It's small, but it's very brave.”
“I find that Bilbo is usually right, Merry. You might remember that in the future,” Frodo said firmly.
Just then, a twig snapped and the mouse dropped the remaining bread and ran quickly into the tall grass without a pause.
“Run fast, little mouse,” Merry said softly. “Be brave and don't get caught.”
“Let’s go to lunch, Merry,” Frodo said. “Your folks will be wondering where we are. I was sent to find you and bring you home, but so far I've only managed half of that.”
“Look at him, playing at soldiering,” the gruff man said grinning over toward the young hobbit who was slashing his sword through the air and side-stepping invisible enemies.
“My uncle won't allow him to ride into battle with us,” Eomer said softly. “For his own safety, Master Holdwine’s battles must all be the stuff of make believe. On a true field of battle he would be crushed beneath the boots of our enemies. He has a stout heart but he doesn't have the size to make a proper soldier.”
“You men! You look but you don't see,” Eowyn said frowning at her brother and the others of his company.
“With all respect, my lady, it's you who fail to see,” said one of the soldiers. “Putting the halfling into a battle would be like allowing a mouse to fight off a stallion.”
Several of the men laughed at this and Eowyn glared fiercely at her brother until his grin faded. “How easily you make sport of one whose courage you do not understand,” Eowyn said. “Do you doubt the bravery of one who would ride into battle beside us and fight to defend these lands?”
“I don't doubt his bravery, only his abilities,” Eomer said, gently. “Were he of a height equal to his nerve and valor, then I would gladly ride by his side against any foe.”
“He's a mouse with the heart of a lion and therefore not fit for battle,” the gruff man who had spoken first said. As he spoke, Meriadoc Brandybuck, known to the Men of Rohan as Master Holdwine's, walked up to the group carrying his sword in one hand and wearing a hard expression on his face.
He walked over and looked directly into the face of the man and said, “If I am a mouse, then you'd best be on your guard for you know little of the bravery of those, small creatures. They face impossible odds every day and survive. I am honoured that you compare me to a mouse on the eve of a battle. There are few braver in all of creation than mice.”
“I meant no harm, Master Holdwine,” the soldier said, looking properly chastised.
“And no harm was done,” Merry said. “If I must earn your respect, then I can do so if given a chance. I know that hobbits must seem no more than children to you, but you will find that like mice, we are brave when there is a need.”
Having said this, Merry turned and walked toward his tent, his sword still in his hand. He might have been angry or embarrassed by the remarks of the soldiers, but just now, his mind was filled with memories of Frodo, Bilbo, and a small mouse eating a crust of bread.
GW. 3/25/2016