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~*Happy day to you, elderberrywine!!*~
I hope very much that you've had a great day! I'm a little late, but that's cos' hey... it's been a LOOONG time since I've hobbit-ficced it. ;)
I don't know WHAT my thing is about hobbits finding new food concoctions, but... they ARE hobbits... *hee* This was going to be a small, tiny story, but it got bigger as I'd gone on. Enjoy, sweetie!!
Title: Gellaphobia
Pairing: F/S
Rating: PG
Synopsis: An old recipe makes Frodo feel... odd.
Frodo was snarling for a myriad of reasons. One, it had to be THE hottest day the Shire had ever experienced, and near the end of September no less. Two, his cousin Bilbo had disappeared two days before, leaving Frodo to clean up the mess of eager or angered relatives and their diligence at getting what was left behind for them. Three--well, he’d left things BEHIND for these people for Frodo to try and manage.
Four? He’d left EVERYTHING behind for Frodo to manage.
Frodo leaned on the kitchen table, running a towel over his face. Great gods above… it was just too blasted hot for this… thank goodness for Merry and Pippin, who had practically beaten the many greedy hobbits from Bag End’s doorstop and keeping to their post still this morning, and of course Sam, who was coming from the den with yet more books.
“D’ye want me to put these in the attic as well?” Sam asked.
“Yes, Sam. Thank you so, so much for helping me today--the last FEW days. I’ll be putting extra into your pay this coming week,” Frodo told him.
“Oh, nay, Mr. Frodo…” Sam said with a blush. “I’d do this fer ye fer nothin’, and ye know it.”
It was Frodo’s turn to wear a bashful smile. “You do too much for me, my sweet Sam,” Frodo replied.
Sam grinned wider then put the box on the stool next to him, walked around a small group of boxes already on the floor, and leaned towards Frodo a little. “Now, now… like ye said jes’ last night--we’ve got t’get this here job done before… well, we go off an’ enjoy ourselves private-like.”
With a ‘humph!’, Frodo leaned back on the table. “So a small kiss would be out of the question? How unkind.”
“Well… I suppose there COULD be that…”
“There could…” Frodo said in a sultry voice, moving closer.
“OI!”
The sudden yell from Merry, just walking in, startled the two of them. Sam leapt back a little, making him knock over the box he’d packed. “Drat!” he cried, catching it before everything fell out--though most of the contents spilled and scattered over the kitchen floor.
“Merry!” Frodo yelled, rounding on his cousin. “You do NOT just barge in, yelling like this!”
“Sorry, sorry--just came in to say that Pip killed two birds with one stone… or rather, knocked two S-B’s on the head with one stone,” Merry declared proudly.
“Well, very nice. I’m glad we almost fell over and cracked our heads open on the boxes and crates lying about with your yelling about it…”
“So dramatic, you are, Frodo. I’ve always loved that about you.”
“Sir, look’it this,” Sam piped up, bringing his hand up. He held an old piece of parchment, which Frodo took and peered at curiously.
He could see why Sam had been so interested. The words and designs lining the tan paper were drawn in many deep, colorful inks, the handwriting seeming to fade into different hues letter-by-letter. What looked to be a round, shiny jewel was drawn in bright gold at the top. Merry leaned in and raised his eyebrows. “‘Enchanted Dwarves’ Gel’?” he questioned.
“What’s that?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know… it seems to be a recipe of some kind,” Frodo said, looking down. “Oh dear…”
“What?” Merry and Sam asked in unison.
“No… no, we shouldn’t try this. It doesn’t seem right,” Frodo said, feeling nervous.
“Why not?” Merry asked. “Didn’t Uncle Bilbo have the most finest recipes from the dwarves? Whether it was an elixir, something to eat, a medicine… it was always so grand.”
“Yes, but… this requires something a slight-bit morbid. The second ingredient is ‘ground cattle bones’,” Frodo explained.
“What’s the first?” Sam asked.
“Two cups of apple juice--one boiled, one iced,” Frodo replied.
Merry scoffed and chuckled. “Oh, yes--dreadful and morbid indeed…”
“Merry, stop your joking. This isn’t something we should dabble in. I’ve never heard of something requiring cattle bones like this--at least ground into powder--unless it was for something dark and too mysterious,” Frodo said. The two others looked at him funny, making him clear his throat. “Bilbo’s had OTHER books… ones I won’t tell you about!” he added quickly in reply to Merry’s interested expression.
“Well come now, Frodo. You heard Reddy Hardbottle at the party, going on and on about how many cows he’s brought in as a ‘harvest’. He’d SAID that he needed to get rid of some of the inedible, useless things,” Merry said. He then looked to the silent Sam and smiled. “I’m sure you’re curious, Sam.”
“Don’t bring Sam into this, Meriadoc,” Frodo warned.
“Are you afraid he’ll side with me?” Merry asked with a twinkle in his eye.
Frodo looked from Merry to Sam a moment, noticing Sam’s nervous expression. “Sam… is neutral. So since it’s a tie we have, we go with the master of the house. Since that is ME, I overrule this decision--”
“PIPPIN!” Merry suddenly yelled.
“Merry!”
“WHAT?” Pippin called back.
“Come in here, we’re taking a vote!”
~*~
“Well… it MIGHT be fun…?”
Sam wasn’t helping. Frodo huffed as he stirred ice into a pitcher, grumbling under his breath about ‘immature, rotten cousins’ as he did. “I have a bad feeling about it, that’s all,” Frodo sighed out. “Some things aren’t meant to be meddled with.”
“Hmm--let’s look at it this way. We give bones to the stray pup that comes ‘round beggin’,” Sam offered. He shrugged as he continued. “So I spos’ this ain’t so bad.”
“Still…” Frodo said. He then looked to the back door and huffed. “What is taking them so long?”
“They said they’d be goin’ to Sandyman’s to use the mill, so they could grind up the bones.”
Frodo groaned and rolled his eyes. “Oh, wonderful. MORE nosy hobbits wondering about my odd deeds…”
Just as he’d sighed in frustration again, Merry and Pippin rounded to the back of the hole with smiles and a large sack. “Reddy gave us plenty of bone to use! We can make hundreds of batches of this magic gel!” Pippin excitedly stated.
“Lovely, let me get the blasted rain barrel…” Frodo groaned out.
~*~
“What is it… doing?”
“You mean, what has it done, Merry…”
“All right, Frodo… ‘what has it done’?”
“Sam, no, don’t touch it!”
“I’m jes’ seein’, Sir.”
“You see with your eyes, not your fingers! Pippin… stop! Don’t--”
“It feels funny, but nice!”
Frodo stood up away from the large bowl, staring at the contents. The golden pool had gone from an odd, thick liquid to a squishy-looking gel in an hour’s time on the large block of ice. He hadn’t wanted to lift the towel off of the bowl to see, and was still bothered by it. The dent Pippin had made with his finger stayed a dent, rather than having the gel fill up the spot he’d touched.
“Can you imagine if we’d used strawberries? That would have tasted delicious!” Merry exclaimed.
“Tasted? We’re not tasting this monstrosity!” Frodo told them.
“Sam, you go first--”
“No!” Frodo interrupted Pippin and went to Sam’s side. He held him back from getting any closer to the bowl.
“Frodo… honestly… are you afraid of this?” Merry asked, motioning to the gel.
Pippin made a small hop then; it caused the gel to quake, moving in an unnatural way. Frodo bit his lip. “I am not ‘afraid’, dear cousin. Merely concerned that we’ve created something beyond our control.”
“Huh?” Merry blurted. Pippin giggled a little as he went on. “Frodo, are you daft?”
“I’m thinkin’ it’s a’right, Sir,” Sam tried assuring him.
Frodo took a deep breath through his nose. He didn’t know WHY this bothered him so much… perhaps it was the way the substance moved, like a slippery eel or a quake of the earth. Both descriptions seemed appropriate, really. Still, the three others seemed just fine. He finally pursed his lips and stood back. “Fine. Have at it,” he tersely replied.
Merry smiled. He got a spoon and a bowl then looked to them all. “Pip, first taste?”
“Urm… no, you.”
“I think it should be you.”
“It was your idea…?”
Frodo looked between them, cocking an eyebrow. Oh… were THEY scared, as well? They both bickered and bantered, Merry rolling his eyes at Pippin’s whine, and Pippin putting his hands on his hips in defiance. No one seemed to notice Sam step forth, pick up the spoon and take a large bite.
“Oi… s’good…”
The three of them turned to look at the hobbit, who was busy getting a dollop of whipped cream over the large hump of gel.
~*~
“Is there any more?”
Frodo looked into the bowl and sighed, shaking his head to Merry’s question. “No, we’ve finished it.”
“Drat! We’ll need to make more,” Pippin exclaimed, trying to get out of his chair.
“It’s just past eleven. And I’m tired,” Frodo said.
“Well, we are not tired. Are we Pip?” Merry asked, smiling deviously.
“No, we’re not.”
“Ugh, all right… but I’ve had a year’s worth of that concoction…” Frodo said, doing his best to get up from his seat.
“Oh, there's ALWAYS room for gel! And you’ll be begging us to make more after this NEXT batch. I think putting peach juice in it would be grand,” Merry said, hopping off to the kitchen.
“And peach PIECES, as well!” Pippin said, following closely.
Frodo smiled and put his head back. “Well, my Sam… what do you…” he started to say, but in looking over, he found Sam sitting upright, eyes closed with his empty bowl sitting in his lap. Frodo smiled and moved over to him, pulling the blanket with him. Once the bowl was placed on the table, he covered them both up and went to sleep.
He’d have the oddest dreams this night, filled with gel-filled tubs, fruit and wrestling matches…
I hope very much that you've had a great day! I'm a little late, but that's cos' hey... it's been a LOOONG time since I've hobbit-ficced it. ;)
I don't know WHAT my thing is about hobbits finding new food concoctions, but... they ARE hobbits... *hee* This was going to be a small, tiny story, but it got bigger as I'd gone on. Enjoy, sweetie!!
Title: Gellaphobia
Pairing: F/S
Rating: PG
Synopsis: An old recipe makes Frodo feel... odd.
Frodo was snarling for a myriad of reasons. One, it had to be THE hottest day the Shire had ever experienced, and near the end of September no less. Two, his cousin Bilbo had disappeared two days before, leaving Frodo to clean up the mess of eager or angered relatives and their diligence at getting what was left behind for them. Three--well, he’d left things BEHIND for these people for Frodo to try and manage.
Four? He’d left EVERYTHING behind for Frodo to manage.
Frodo leaned on the kitchen table, running a towel over his face. Great gods above… it was just too blasted hot for this… thank goodness for Merry and Pippin, who had practically beaten the many greedy hobbits from Bag End’s doorstop and keeping to their post still this morning, and of course Sam, who was coming from the den with yet more books.
“D’ye want me to put these in the attic as well?” Sam asked.
“Yes, Sam. Thank you so, so much for helping me today--the last FEW days. I’ll be putting extra into your pay this coming week,” Frodo told him.
“Oh, nay, Mr. Frodo…” Sam said with a blush. “I’d do this fer ye fer nothin’, and ye know it.”
It was Frodo’s turn to wear a bashful smile. “You do too much for me, my sweet Sam,” Frodo replied.
Sam grinned wider then put the box on the stool next to him, walked around a small group of boxes already on the floor, and leaned towards Frodo a little. “Now, now… like ye said jes’ last night--we’ve got t’get this here job done before… well, we go off an’ enjoy ourselves private-like.”
With a ‘humph!’, Frodo leaned back on the table. “So a small kiss would be out of the question? How unkind.”
“Well… I suppose there COULD be that…”
“There could…” Frodo said in a sultry voice, moving closer.
“OI!”
The sudden yell from Merry, just walking in, startled the two of them. Sam leapt back a little, making him knock over the box he’d packed. “Drat!” he cried, catching it before everything fell out--though most of the contents spilled and scattered over the kitchen floor.
“Merry!” Frodo yelled, rounding on his cousin. “You do NOT just barge in, yelling like this!”
“Sorry, sorry--just came in to say that Pip killed two birds with one stone… or rather, knocked two S-B’s on the head with one stone,” Merry declared proudly.
“Well, very nice. I’m glad we almost fell over and cracked our heads open on the boxes and crates lying about with your yelling about it…”
“So dramatic, you are, Frodo. I’ve always loved that about you.”
“Sir, look’it this,” Sam piped up, bringing his hand up. He held an old piece of parchment, which Frodo took and peered at curiously.
He could see why Sam had been so interested. The words and designs lining the tan paper were drawn in many deep, colorful inks, the handwriting seeming to fade into different hues letter-by-letter. What looked to be a round, shiny jewel was drawn in bright gold at the top. Merry leaned in and raised his eyebrows. “‘Enchanted Dwarves’ Gel’?” he questioned.
“What’s that?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know… it seems to be a recipe of some kind,” Frodo said, looking down. “Oh dear…”
“What?” Merry and Sam asked in unison.
“No… no, we shouldn’t try this. It doesn’t seem right,” Frodo said, feeling nervous.
“Why not?” Merry asked. “Didn’t Uncle Bilbo have the most finest recipes from the dwarves? Whether it was an elixir, something to eat, a medicine… it was always so grand.”
“Yes, but… this requires something a slight-bit morbid. The second ingredient is ‘ground cattle bones’,” Frodo explained.
“What’s the first?” Sam asked.
“Two cups of apple juice--one boiled, one iced,” Frodo replied.
Merry scoffed and chuckled. “Oh, yes--dreadful and morbid indeed…”
“Merry, stop your joking. This isn’t something we should dabble in. I’ve never heard of something requiring cattle bones like this--at least ground into powder--unless it was for something dark and too mysterious,” Frodo said. The two others looked at him funny, making him clear his throat. “Bilbo’s had OTHER books… ones I won’t tell you about!” he added quickly in reply to Merry’s interested expression.
“Well come now, Frodo. You heard Reddy Hardbottle at the party, going on and on about how many cows he’s brought in as a ‘harvest’. He’d SAID that he needed to get rid of some of the inedible, useless things,” Merry said. He then looked to the silent Sam and smiled. “I’m sure you’re curious, Sam.”
“Don’t bring Sam into this, Meriadoc,” Frodo warned.
“Are you afraid he’ll side with me?” Merry asked with a twinkle in his eye.
Frodo looked from Merry to Sam a moment, noticing Sam’s nervous expression. “Sam… is neutral. So since it’s a tie we have, we go with the master of the house. Since that is ME, I overrule this decision--”
“PIPPIN!” Merry suddenly yelled.
“Merry!”
“WHAT?” Pippin called back.
“Come in here, we’re taking a vote!”
~*~
“Well… it MIGHT be fun…?”
Sam wasn’t helping. Frodo huffed as he stirred ice into a pitcher, grumbling under his breath about ‘immature, rotten cousins’ as he did. “I have a bad feeling about it, that’s all,” Frodo sighed out. “Some things aren’t meant to be meddled with.”
“Hmm--let’s look at it this way. We give bones to the stray pup that comes ‘round beggin’,” Sam offered. He shrugged as he continued. “So I spos’ this ain’t so bad.”
“Still…” Frodo said. He then looked to the back door and huffed. “What is taking them so long?”
“They said they’d be goin’ to Sandyman’s to use the mill, so they could grind up the bones.”
Frodo groaned and rolled his eyes. “Oh, wonderful. MORE nosy hobbits wondering about my odd deeds…”
Just as he’d sighed in frustration again, Merry and Pippin rounded to the back of the hole with smiles and a large sack. “Reddy gave us plenty of bone to use! We can make hundreds of batches of this magic gel!” Pippin excitedly stated.
“Lovely, let me get the blasted rain barrel…” Frodo groaned out.
~*~
“What is it… doing?”
“You mean, what has it done, Merry…”
“All right, Frodo… ‘what has it done’?”
“Sam, no, don’t touch it!”
“I’m jes’ seein’, Sir.”
“You see with your eyes, not your fingers! Pippin… stop! Don’t--”
“It feels funny, but nice!”
Frodo stood up away from the large bowl, staring at the contents. The golden pool had gone from an odd, thick liquid to a squishy-looking gel in an hour’s time on the large block of ice. He hadn’t wanted to lift the towel off of the bowl to see, and was still bothered by it. The dent Pippin had made with his finger stayed a dent, rather than having the gel fill up the spot he’d touched.
“Can you imagine if we’d used strawberries? That would have tasted delicious!” Merry exclaimed.
“Tasted? We’re not tasting this monstrosity!” Frodo told them.
“Sam, you go first--”
“No!” Frodo interrupted Pippin and went to Sam’s side. He held him back from getting any closer to the bowl.
“Frodo… honestly… are you afraid of this?” Merry asked, motioning to the gel.
Pippin made a small hop then; it caused the gel to quake, moving in an unnatural way. Frodo bit his lip. “I am not ‘afraid’, dear cousin. Merely concerned that we’ve created something beyond our control.”
“Huh?” Merry blurted. Pippin giggled a little as he went on. “Frodo, are you daft?”
“I’m thinkin’ it’s a’right, Sir,” Sam tried assuring him.
Frodo took a deep breath through his nose. He didn’t know WHY this bothered him so much… perhaps it was the way the substance moved, like a slippery eel or a quake of the earth. Both descriptions seemed appropriate, really. Still, the three others seemed just fine. He finally pursed his lips and stood back. “Fine. Have at it,” he tersely replied.
Merry smiled. He got a spoon and a bowl then looked to them all. “Pip, first taste?”
“Urm… no, you.”
“I think it should be you.”
“It was your idea…?”
Frodo looked between them, cocking an eyebrow. Oh… were THEY scared, as well? They both bickered and bantered, Merry rolling his eyes at Pippin’s whine, and Pippin putting his hands on his hips in defiance. No one seemed to notice Sam step forth, pick up the spoon and take a large bite.
“Oi… s’good…”
The three of them turned to look at the hobbit, who was busy getting a dollop of whipped cream over the large hump of gel.
~*~
“Is there any more?”
Frodo looked into the bowl and sighed, shaking his head to Merry’s question. “No, we’ve finished it.”
“Drat! We’ll need to make more,” Pippin exclaimed, trying to get out of his chair.
“It’s just past eleven. And I’m tired,” Frodo said.
“Well, we are not tired. Are we Pip?” Merry asked, smiling deviously.
“No, we’re not.”
“Ugh, all right… but I’ve had a year’s worth of that concoction…” Frodo said, doing his best to get up from his seat.
“Oh, there's ALWAYS room for gel! And you’ll be begging us to make more after this NEXT batch. I think putting peach juice in it would be grand,” Merry said, hopping off to the kitchen.
“And peach PIECES, as well!” Pippin said, following closely.
Frodo smiled and put his head back. “Well, my Sam… what do you…” he started to say, but in looking over, he found Sam sitting upright, eyes closed with his empty bowl sitting in his lap. Frodo smiled and moved over to him, pulling the blanket with him. Once the bowl was placed on the table, he covered them both up and went to sleep.
He’d have the oddest dreams this night, filled with gel-filled tubs, fruit and wrestling matches…