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Chapter 3 of Tears on the Brandywine.
This was originally the first chapter, 7 years ago, when I first started this fic. I never really got any further, school and life got in the way. I'd always hoped to write more and now, finally, I have. I have a fuller more fleshed out idea for where I want to go with this story as well, so maybe it is a good thing that I've held off for so long. I'm certainly older now, which may or may not be a good thing. Either way, I do hope you enjoy the story so far, and the chapters that come in the future too.
A note: the prologue and first three chapters are first person POV, the following chapters will be third person. I apologize if that is confusing to anyone, it's just the way the story came to me.
A further note: this story will eventually be Frodo/Sam and Merry/Pippin.
I would appreciate any thoughts you all might have.
The TotB Prologue can be found here http://littleone-17.livejournal.com/611.html
TotB Chapter 1 can be found here http://littleone-17.livejournal.com/887.html
TotB Chapter 2 can be found here http://littleone-17.livejournal.com/1207.html
Title: Tears on the Brandywine - Chapter 3
Author: littleone_17
Pairings: Drogo/Primula, Bilbo/OC(implied)
Rating: G
Summary: Bilbo's POV on Drogo and Primula Baggins' deaths.
Disclaimer: I am not JRR Tolkien, I will never be him. I do not make any money off of this and do it purely for the joy I find in spending more time in Middle Earth.
Author's Note: This story is AU but with as much canon as possible. If you like it, don't like it, or think I need to make some changes, please let me know.
Bilbo's POV:
He’s 12, just starting to shift from being a young faunt to being a teen, and now his parents are gone. Drowned. It’s terrible to see; he’s so upset he tried to throw himself in Brandybuck River too. Fortunately, his cousins Saradoc and Merimac were able to restrain him. It hurts to see the pain in his wide, blue eyes and the tears running down his face. I know, I’m there.
We were all at a party at Brandy Hall. Drogo and Primula Baggins had gone out boating after lunch, to relax. Frodo wanted to go boating with them, but his young cousin Pearl wanted him to play with her. He’s so good with the little ones, they love to play with him. When they found his parents' bodies later in the afternoon, he was beside himself, yelling and screaming. The thing that cut me the most was hearing him yell that it was all his fault, that if he had been there maybe they wouldn't have died, maybe he could have saved them. I couldn’t stay and watch. I could feel tears welling up and I wanted to be somewhere private, to cry for Drogo and Primula, and especially to cry for my poor young cousin.
Going back into Brandy Hall I found a small private parlor and, sitting in a chair near the fire, I put my head in my hands and cried.
I don't know how long I’ve sat here in this small parlor. I’m no longer crying. Eventually I look up and see that someone has left a mug of ale and my pipe on a table at my side. I sit for a sometime longer, just staring at the fire, the pipe unlit in my mouth.
Then I hear a small sound at the door. Turning, I see Frodo come into the room. He climbs on my lap, cuddling up close, just as he has done as a little fauntling. I look down at him, my favorite cousin: the only one who has shown any sign of adventure, who loves to go on walks with his strange cousin Bilbo, who sits and listens to my stories with stars shining in his eyes.
He isn't crying anymore, but pain still shows on his round little face.
"Cousin Bilbo," he says softly, "tell me a story, please."
What else can I do when he looks up at me with those sad, blue eyes? I hold him close and tell him a story. I speak of the elves, how they were created by the Valar, and placed here on Middle Earth. I tell of the happy days of the past when the elves were still young. As I talk, he snuggles closer, relaxing. I see him close his eyes, feel his breathing, slow and steady. Yet, I keep talking even after I know he is asleep.
Maybe I need the comfort of a story too.
At the end of my story I kiss him gently on the crown of his head and look up. I nearly start in shock except that he is still seated in my lap, for when I look up there are a good 10 hobbits sitting around the parlor in silence. Apparently my story has drawn a small crowd.
It makes me smile a bit, if sadly. Our large and extended family has its differences, but tragedy always seems to draw us together.
"Here Bilbo, let me take him to his bed."
"Actually Esmeralda, if you don't mind, I'll go ahead and take him."
"You needn't trouble yourself Bilbo," Saradoc responds, "I am sure we can get a servant to come take him to bed."
"I know, but it’s no trouble and I do wish to put him to bed myself." So saying, I stand up slowly, adjusting the poor boy to a position that is easier to carry. At 12 he is perhaps a little old to be carried like a fauntling, but this was something I feel I need to do. He is a bit heavy, but doesn’t weigh as much as I would have thought. Holding him tight, I leave the parlor, carrying him to the room he sleeps in while staying at Brandy Hall.
Setting him gently on the bed I look down at him. Children are so sweet when they sleep, angelic even. And, if worn out after a long day, they are impossible to wake up. This is the case tonight. He never stirs while I undress him and get him into his night shirt. Lifting him up again I pull back the covers of his bed and set him gently down, then tuck the blankets loosely around him. I watch as he snuggles closer into his pillow, and then he does something he hasn’t done since he was 6. He puts his thumb in his mouth. I almost collapse into tears again, knowing the pain that he must be going through to revert to childhood habits.
Blinking back tears I lean over and kiss him gently on the forehead. I will be gone before he awakens in the morning. I need to get back to Bag End and to Hobbiton for a number of reasons. Not the least of these being that my gardener, Hamfast Gamgee, is having his 5th child (in actual fact, his wife, Bell, is having the child), a child whom I feel will be very special, just as special as this one. I want to be there when the baby is born. I also need to get back to start taking care of things in the smials of Bag End as I know that I will, at sometime, be writing to invite my young cousin to come stay with me.
Smiling softly, I kiss his forehead again and turn to leave the room. Esmeralda is standing there smiling at me.
“We will take good care of him cousin.”
“I know Esme. I hurt for him. This is a terrible thing, which no faunt should have to experience. I wish I could do more to help ease his pain.”
She replies, with a watery smile, "You are so good with children Bilbo and care so much for them, why do you not have any of your own?"
I smile sadly back at her, "You know why, Esme."
"I do know. I just wish there were some way you could."
"Maybe there is… we'll see.”
Shaking her head she leaves the room. Moving to follow, I reach the door and turn to look at the boy sleeping peacefully. "Sleep well, Frodo - lad," I whisper as I close the door.
This was originally the first chapter, 7 years ago, when I first started this fic. I never really got any further, school and life got in the way. I'd always hoped to write more and now, finally, I have. I have a fuller more fleshed out idea for where I want to go with this story as well, so maybe it is a good thing that I've held off for so long. I'm certainly older now, which may or may not be a good thing. Either way, I do hope you enjoy the story so far, and the chapters that come in the future too.
A note: the prologue and first three chapters are first person POV, the following chapters will be third person. I apologize if that is confusing to anyone, it's just the way the story came to me.
A further note: this story will eventually be Frodo/Sam and Merry/Pippin.
I would appreciate any thoughts you all might have.
The TotB Prologue can be found here http://littleone-17.livejournal.com/611.html
TotB Chapter 1 can be found here http://littleone-17.livejournal.com/887.html
TotB Chapter 2 can be found here http://littleone-17.livejournal.com/1207.html
Title: Tears on the Brandywine - Chapter 3
Author: littleone_17
Pairings: Drogo/Primula, Bilbo/OC(implied)
Rating: G
Summary: Bilbo's POV on Drogo and Primula Baggins' deaths.
Disclaimer: I am not JRR Tolkien, I will never be him. I do not make any money off of this and do it purely for the joy I find in spending more time in Middle Earth.
Author's Note: This story is AU but with as much canon as possible. If you like it, don't like it, or think I need to make some changes, please let me know.
Bilbo's POV:
He’s 12, just starting to shift from being a young faunt to being a teen, and now his parents are gone. Drowned. It’s terrible to see; he’s so upset he tried to throw himself in Brandybuck River too. Fortunately, his cousins Saradoc and Merimac were able to restrain him. It hurts to see the pain in his wide, blue eyes and the tears running down his face. I know, I’m there.
We were all at a party at Brandy Hall. Drogo and Primula Baggins had gone out boating after lunch, to relax. Frodo wanted to go boating with them, but his young cousin Pearl wanted him to play with her. He’s so good with the little ones, they love to play with him. When they found his parents' bodies later in the afternoon, he was beside himself, yelling and screaming. The thing that cut me the most was hearing him yell that it was all his fault, that if he had been there maybe they wouldn't have died, maybe he could have saved them. I couldn’t stay and watch. I could feel tears welling up and I wanted to be somewhere private, to cry for Drogo and Primula, and especially to cry for my poor young cousin.
Going back into Brandy Hall I found a small private parlor and, sitting in a chair near the fire, I put my head in my hands and cried.
I don't know how long I’ve sat here in this small parlor. I’m no longer crying. Eventually I look up and see that someone has left a mug of ale and my pipe on a table at my side. I sit for a sometime longer, just staring at the fire, the pipe unlit in my mouth.
Then I hear a small sound at the door. Turning, I see Frodo come into the room. He climbs on my lap, cuddling up close, just as he has done as a little fauntling. I look down at him, my favorite cousin: the only one who has shown any sign of adventure, who loves to go on walks with his strange cousin Bilbo, who sits and listens to my stories with stars shining in his eyes.
He isn't crying anymore, but pain still shows on his round little face.
"Cousin Bilbo," he says softly, "tell me a story, please."
What else can I do when he looks up at me with those sad, blue eyes? I hold him close and tell him a story. I speak of the elves, how they were created by the Valar, and placed here on Middle Earth. I tell of the happy days of the past when the elves were still young. As I talk, he snuggles closer, relaxing. I see him close his eyes, feel his breathing, slow and steady. Yet, I keep talking even after I know he is asleep.
Maybe I need the comfort of a story too.
At the end of my story I kiss him gently on the crown of his head and look up. I nearly start in shock except that he is still seated in my lap, for when I look up there are a good 10 hobbits sitting around the parlor in silence. Apparently my story has drawn a small crowd.
It makes me smile a bit, if sadly. Our large and extended family has its differences, but tragedy always seems to draw us together.
"Here Bilbo, let me take him to his bed."
"Actually Esmeralda, if you don't mind, I'll go ahead and take him."
"You needn't trouble yourself Bilbo," Saradoc responds, "I am sure we can get a servant to come take him to bed."
"I know, but it’s no trouble and I do wish to put him to bed myself." So saying, I stand up slowly, adjusting the poor boy to a position that is easier to carry. At 12 he is perhaps a little old to be carried like a fauntling, but this was something I feel I need to do. He is a bit heavy, but doesn’t weigh as much as I would have thought. Holding him tight, I leave the parlor, carrying him to the room he sleeps in while staying at Brandy Hall.
Setting him gently on the bed I look down at him. Children are so sweet when they sleep, angelic even. And, if worn out after a long day, they are impossible to wake up. This is the case tonight. He never stirs while I undress him and get him into his night shirt. Lifting him up again I pull back the covers of his bed and set him gently down, then tuck the blankets loosely around him. I watch as he snuggles closer into his pillow, and then he does something he hasn’t done since he was 6. He puts his thumb in his mouth. I almost collapse into tears again, knowing the pain that he must be going through to revert to childhood habits.
Blinking back tears I lean over and kiss him gently on the forehead. I will be gone before he awakens in the morning. I need to get back to Bag End and to Hobbiton for a number of reasons. Not the least of these being that my gardener, Hamfast Gamgee, is having his 5th child (in actual fact, his wife, Bell, is having the child), a child whom I feel will be very special, just as special as this one. I want to be there when the baby is born. I also need to get back to start taking care of things in the smials of Bag End as I know that I will, at sometime, be writing to invite my young cousin to come stay with me.
Smiling softly, I kiss his forehead again and turn to leave the room. Esmeralda is standing there smiling at me.
“We will take good care of him cousin.”
“I know Esme. I hurt for him. This is a terrible thing, which no faunt should have to experience. I wish I could do more to help ease his pain.”
She replies, with a watery smile, "You are so good with children Bilbo and care so much for them, why do you not have any of your own?"
I smile sadly back at her, "You know why, Esme."
"I do know. I just wish there were some way you could."
"Maybe there is… we'll see.”
Shaking her head she leaves the room. Moving to follow, I reach the door and turn to look at the boy sleeping peacefully. "Sleep well, Frodo - lad," I whisper as I close the door.