(http://ladysunrope.livejournal.com) SECRET SANTA 2010
(http://ladysunrope.livejournal.com)
SECRET SANTA 2010
Stories: Merry Christmas, Mr. Frodo - Christmas Day, 25th December 3018
Intermission
Merry Christmas, Mr. Frodo - Christmas Day, 25th December 3019
Rating: PG and NC17
Fandom: LOTR
Pairing: Frodo and others
Total word count: [stories only] 3615
Disclaimer: PURE FICTION. NO COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT INTENDED!
ALL FIGURES BELONG TO THE JRR TOLKIEN ESTATE.
Acknowledgement:
ingrid44 , who acted as my BETA for all stories. Thank you so much my friend for your help.
Merry Christmas, Mr. Frodo − Christmas Day, 25th December 3018
Secret Santa for ladysunrope
(http://ladysunrope.livejournal.com/ ),
Pairing: Frodo / Sam and others
Fandom: LOTR
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. No copyright infringement intended.
All figures belong to the JRR Tolkien estate.
Word Count: 1360
Summary: Middle Earth, Christmas Day 25th December 3019
Merry Christmas, Mr. Frodo
Christmas Day, 25th December 3018
Sweat poured from his brow and his forehead was marred with furrows. Every now and again he shouted aloud, only to turn over and fall silent. Voices seemed to surround him, but he could not identify their owners or understand the words. He tried to rise but somehow was unable to move. His limbs felt as if they were weighted down with lead. His eyes fluttered and finally opened.
Sam was bending over him wiping his brow with a piece of smelly cloth. “You must rest, Mr. Frodo!” he whispered. Frodo's eyelids fluttered and for a brief second he glimpsed Sam's face. Worries, sorrow, deep friendship were all reflected in Sam's eyes, etched in Sam's features. Frodo wondered what he had done to deserve such love and commitment.
“You must sleep, Mr. Frodo!” He heard Sam say again, “I shall keep watch. I promise I shall not let you come to harm. I swear it!” Tears welled in Samwise's eyes and closed his throat. Frodo remembered how he had been stabbed by that fierce Ringwraith's poisoned blade. Sam had stood beside him and defended him. Brave Sam, he thought, where would I be without you. Exhaustion took its toll and Frodo closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
Frodo had been sworn to silence by Gandalf the Grey. When they first met the Black Rider, Sam too seemed to know. Instinctively he had started to keep an eye out for Frodo's safety. Frodo to his own great astonishment, had already formed a close bond to the young gardner, who seemed so full of optimism. An emotion Frodo was lacking, his thoughts wandering dark paths.
Of course in the beginning Sam had not been fully aware of the dangers they would have to brave.
It was Samwise Gamgee's spirit which brightened his days and the young man took very good care of him. Frodo could never have imagined that he would become so dependent on Sam's presence.
He recalled that when Gandalf ordered Sam to accompany him, he had been annoyed. This should have been his adventure and his alone. Like his Uncle Bilbo. Bilbo had not had another Hobbit following him around. Why should he Frodo, have to make do with a babysitter?
In his resentment he was unfriendly to Sam in the beginning, being annoyed by the unadventurous soul of his companion. Then matters became even worse when they bumped into his cousins Peregrin and Meriadoc. The two were well known in the Shire for their mischievous behaviour and Frodo had never bonded to them.
Nevertheless, they ignored his attempts to chase them away and smelling an adventure had stayed with Frodo. Later Frodo admitted that he had not fully contemplated the various dangers of his adventure. Only when they encountered the Black Riders did the seriousness of the danger he had to face sink in for the very first time.
Not that this had had any effect on Pippin - oh, far from it. As soon as they had reached Bree and entered the Prancing Pony, his cousin seemed to suffer from memory loss. Frodo grew very angry about the attention the young Hobbit drew not only upon himself but on the rest of them.
In the end it had been himself reprimanded by the man calling himself Strider. Told off for making to much a show of himself. Frodo grew even angrier. He had wanted to stop Pippin. How the ring had emerged from his pocket and slipped onto his finger he could hardly recall.
He never would have thought the Wraiths would launch an attack on the Inn they were staying.
This was their first inkling of the nature of the dangerous under-taking they were embarked on and which they had just managed to escape by the skin of their teeth. Strider had led them out of Bree just in time and now they were on their way to Weathertop. For six days they had hastened with hardly a break. Sam, Pippin and Merry still in awe at the lack of stops for meals. Strider had shown no remorse and pushed and pressed them forward with all his might.
The ruins at Weathertop lay before them and by nightfall they would reach them. Strider had promised that once inside they would be sheltered for the night.
Frodo was very tired. He could do with a break. However, the ruins of the old fort did not look very inviting. No matter if one looked at them from afar or from close range.
The October winds blew sharp around the ruins and he had cuddled up close to the remnants of a wall. Strider had dropped them off and had vanished once again. How could one trust this fellow when he appeared and disappeared at will. Now that they were being followed by the Black Riders shouldn't he stay close to protect them? Four small Hobbits were surely no match for these huge monsters on their wild beasts.
His exhaustion took its toll and he fell asleep. Only to be awakened by loud laughter and the smell of roasting potatoes and sausages. He jumped up and saw his fellow Hobbits crouching around a fire, Sam cooking away. These stupid fools! He cursed them. They were putting his live in danger with simple thoughtlessness. How dare they! He started yelling but they just stared at him as if he had completely lost his mind. Frodo kicked out the fire, yelling all the while, when suddenly the Ringwraiths closed in on them. That was the moment the penny dropped for his fellow travellers. Grabbing whatever they thought could be used as a weapon they raced to Frodo's side, Sam wielding the hot frying pan.
But they were not only out numbered but also much to small to pose any real threat to their attackers. Out of nowhere Strider suddenly re-appeared. He had drawn his sword and in wide blows drove the attackers back. However he was too late.
The leader of the attackers stabbed Frodo's shoulder burying his blade deep into the Hobbit's flesh. He whimpered on the impact. Even wearing the ring on his finger which made him invisible was no protection. On the contrary the Witchking towered over him, his decaying face staring at Frodo while the other Wraiths closed in.
Strider jumped in driving the attackers away, sword in one hand and a flaming fagot in the other. Hacking and stabbing at them until they finally retreated. Frodo had no recollection of what happened next only that Sam was the first to reach him. Cradling him in his arms. He felt himself picked up and put on the pony. He drifted in and out of consciousness, not knowing what was fantasy and what was real.
He heard Strider speaking to Sam. Only the words faded making no sense or his feverish mind was not able to make sense of them. Again he was lifted, only this time higher. Strider's horse probably. But no, these were soft hands, soft clothes. Not Strider's rough cloth and unwashed stench.
He heard Strider plead to be permitted to take the injured Hobbit. Frodo frowned. Which Hobbit had been injured? Pippin perhaps. He was the youngest, frailest.
Before Frodo could confirm his fears, he was whisked away on a fast horse. A stranger held him in his arms and the wind of speeding travel cooled his heated, sweaty brow.
Two months had since past and a very important council was held and decisions been made.
Uncle Bilbo, Sam, Merry, Pippin and he had held a little celebration on theYule. But it had been just a shadow of the festivities that had been held in the Shire in years past.
Today on the 25th December the fellowship left Imladris for the great adventure still lying ahead. Aragorn and Boromir had grinned all day, the evening before they had explained to Frodo and the other Hobbits what Christmas meant to them. Before they all marched out of Imladris, Boromir and Aragorn handed a small parcel to Frodo and grinning even broader the two shouted:
“MERRY CHRISTMAS, MR. FRODO!”
Title: Intermission
Secret Santa for ladysunrope
(http://ladysunrope.livejournal.com/ ),
Pairing: Frodo and others
Fandom: LOTR
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. No copyright infringement intended.
All figures belong to the JRR Tolkien estate.
Word Count: 917
Summary: The goal is so close but yet so far.
Intermission
Two light blue eyes shone in the dark, glowing like headlights on a car.
His goal was so near and yet so far.. His precious right in front of him, only an arm's length away. Yet so far that it was impossible to reach.
The fat one was on his guard, always watching. Even now when they were prisoners of these strange men with the weakling of a leader. He would not leave the side of the frail one.
“We hatez zem. We wantz our preciouz. We wantz it, we needz it.” - “Patienz my preciouz. Patienz! We muztz not hazte. We needz to be wize. Gollum, Gollum!”
He crouched back further into the shadows when he heard the footsteps. The weak leader of the men appeared in the doorway of their prison. He grabbed the frail Hobbit and shoved him out of the hut and away. “He muztz not let him get away wizoutz uz, my preciouz!” he whined.
He squeezed himself through the little gap in the wall. Hurting himself when the plaster scratched his skin. He did not care. He must not let him get away with the treasure he was bearing.
Careful not to make a sound or to be seen he crawled over to the other house. This was the house where the leader was staying. He was sure the frail one had been brought here..
He slithered around the corner to the back. The lights in the windows mirrored on the dark ground. He climbed up the wall and peeked a look.
The room was empty! A chair had been overthrown, still laying on the ground. The floor was littered with what seemed to be clothing.
He was silent, listening. Where had they gone? All he needed was a little noise, a sound to betray their whereabouts.
There is was, the squeaking of a mattress. He climbed up higher. The windows there were dark.
His eyes reflected in the glass of the window.
The squeaking of mattress springs grew louder, more recognizable.
He carefully lifted his head to look inside the room. His mouth fell open and he losing his grip, he fell to the ground.
The noise of his fall alarmed the nearby guard and he was caught and dragged back to the hut. The guards searched all around the hut until they found the gap he had squeezed through. Swiftly the escape route was barred.
He sat in the dark room biting his lips, when the fat one addressed him. “Hey, where have you been? Now look what you've done! You gave away the only escape route we had!”
“And where is Mr. Frodo gone? Hey? Have you seen him?” the fat one yelled aggressively. His voice was small and broken when he replied.
“He'z withz the captain. He'z taken him.” The fat one steamed in anger and he crawled to the far end of the prison to get away from the fat Hobbit's ranting.
“He'z betrayed uz! He'z betrayed uz!” he sobbed, “Mazter'z betrayed uz!”
Interested in what happened in the house? Want to know what Gollum saw?
Read on…
Faramir grabbed Frodo by the arm and dragged him out of the hut and into his quarters. There he shoved the Hobbit into a chair.
“Are you hungry? Do you want something to drink?” he asked. Frodo looked at him with his big blue eyes in disbelief. The Captain was really nice. “I am a bit thirsty.” Frodo said. He dared a closer look at the young Gondorian. Faramir was bending over a side table filling a glass with cool water brought from the nearby well. His uniform fitted him tightly.
Frodo's hands were slightly shaking when he reached out for the glass and their fingers met. Hastily he put the glass to his lip and drank in large gulps. A rivulet of water dripped out of the corner of his mouth, down his chin and throat.
Faramir stared at the water running over the skin, the soft pink skin of the Hobbit. When Frodo lowered the glass from his lips they were moist and shiny.
Faramir could not bear it any longer. He snatched the Hobbit out of the chair which fell to the ground. With hot hands he took off the Hobbit's clothes. He started undressing himself while they were leaving the room, going up the stairs to his bed chamber.
The first kiss was almost painfull with passion. Frodo bit Faramir's lip and Faramir sucked Frodo's tongue into his own mouth, only to push his own deep inside Frodo's. They flung themselves onto the bed and Frodo explored the body of the young man with his hands, mouth and tongue.
Faramir threw his head back onto the pillow, hands on the headboard of the bed. Frodo gently stroked the inside of the man's thighs and a groan of lust escaped the Gondorian's throat.
Faramir's member began to swell and throb and it felt burning hot to the touch. Frodo pulled his buttocks asunder and sat down on the hot spit. Riding the Gondorian captain as if on a horse.
Frodo leaned back and rested his hands on Faramir's knees while rapidly pushing up and down. Before he closed his eyes to let himself go, he noticed two pale blue eyes looking in through the window.
Then he let himself fall onto the pleasurable tickling of the huge Gondorian penis penetrating him and filling him completely.
Merry Christmas, Mr. Frodo - Christmas Day, 25th December 3019
Secret Santa for ladysunrope
(http://ladysunrope.livejournal.com/ ),
Pairing: Frodo / Sam and others
Fandom: LOTR
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. No copyright infringement intended.
All figures belong to the JRR Tolkien estate.
Word Count: 1338
Summary: Middle Earth, Christmas Day 25th December 3020
Merry Christmas, Mr. Frodo
Christmas Day, 25th December 3019
Slowly he peeled himself out of bed.
Frodo knew he had become over excited. Ever since his return to Bag End, he had wanted to surprise his friends with a traditional Hobbit Yuletide party. Everything had to be of the best quality and be overall perfect. He had spared no effort.
For many weeks he had consulted catalogues and now a regular stream of delivery carts stopped at the famous Hobbit home. Frodo planned to provide typical Hobbit hospitality especially to his non Hobbit friends. He felt he had to give something back to the people he had met during his adventure. He owed much to so many of them. Lord Elrond and Lady Arwen who had saved his life on more than one occasion. Lord Faramir, the newly proclaimed Prince of Ithilien, who had shown such foresight by letting him continue the journey. He had been entirely at the mercy of Lord Faramir.
It would have taken but little to end the Quest, to the ruin of all. However the young lieutenant had shown his character in the best possible way. Not like his late brother at all! Frodo shuddered at the thought of Boromir. The Gondorian Captain had always scared him. He had never been comfortable near him, unlike his cousins Pippin and Merry.
Frodo shook his head. No time for reminiscences; there was still so much to do, to organise. He rolled out the gift wraps, carefully choosing which paper to use for whom and whose present.
The Yule log had been ordered and cousin Celandine Bracegirdle would provide the Christmas bakeries. Myrtle Burrows had offered to do the cooking. It was hard to keep the young unmarried women away from his door. Since his return he had been drowned in invitations and attentions from the fairer sex. However he shied away from a commitment, fearing his soul to marred from his experiences. Frodo assumed no young female would be able to cope with his situation.
In the corner of his spacious living room he had the presents stacked in good order. Each labeled and decorated with a crafty bow. On his writing desk next to the Red Book, were the greeting cards. Ink and quill ready, waiting for usage.
He turned his thoughts over and over in his mind. Had he sent out all the invitations? Had he invited everyone and not forgotten somebody? Hobbits traditionally did not celebrate Christmas as did the men in Gondor and the Rohirrim. The Elves did not celebrate anything for all their festivals were connected with the flourishing and blooming of the earth and plants.
Hobbits usually celebrated the Yule on the day of the winter solstice. But Frodo was now merging the traditions a little. He had learnt about the Christmas traditions of men while staying in Minas Tirith. There he had also made the acquaintances of the beautiful lady Eowyn and her brother Eomer. Lady Eowyn had spent quite some time with him while she stayed in the house of healing. He, Frodo, had been witness to the blossoming of the flower of love that had grown between her and the young Steward of Gondor.
But his mind was drifting again. He had to concentrate on the tasks laying before him. There was still so much to consider and to do. He had to stay focused.
A sharp knock on the door called him back to reality. He rushed to see who was calling. Frodo was greeted by a scruffy looking stranger, a pad and a pen shoved under his nose and a finger pointed at the line he was to sign.
“Wait, what is it? I didn't ordered that!” Frodo yelled at the fast retreating man. In his front garden were ten big crates all labelled 'For the attention of Mr. Frodo Baggins at Bag End, Hobbiton.' 'Handle with care' and 'this side up' were the additional markings on the boxes.
A smile came over his face. He suddenly remembered he had seen boxes of this kind once before. He had to get them inside, into storage, to prevent the contents from getting wet. The clouds in the sky did not look trustworthy. Just then Sam's head appeared from behind the hedge and Frodo waved and called out to him. Good old sturdy Sam was only to happy to lend a hand. A few minutes later all ten crates were safe and sound inside and out of the way.
“Do you think the same as me, Mr. Frodo?” Sam enquired. “Do these crates not look like the boxes that were delivered to your uncle Bilbo? For his famous birthday party? Don't you remember?” Frodo gave a little smile. It seemed a lifetime ago and in much happier times.
There had been so much trouble and pain which filled the times in-between. Sometimes Frodo feared that he would never ever again be as happy as he had been then. How naïve they all had been.
Sam's voice called him back. “Sorry, I was not listening, Sam. What did you say?” Sam saw the torment in his face and he patted Frodo's shoulder. “That all lies in the past, Mr. Frodo. Times are getting better now. You'll see, soon all will be back to normal. Oh I can't wait to see their faces when Mr.Gandalf comes and produces his fireworks from these crates. For I think that is what is in there, Mr. Frodo. They do look just the same.”
With these words Sam bade farewell and walked out, soon disappearing behind the hedges. He is right, Frodo thought, look forward not back!
The twenty-first of December arrived and Frodo looked forward to the delivery of the Yule log. It was brought at midday as well as the Yulebuck, a goat made of straw. It was tall enough for Frodo to sit on as if on a pony.
Two more days to go before all his visitors arrived. A small version of the Yulebuck would be ready as presents for each of his guests. He was still waiting to have mistletoes and pine cones delivered. Bag End would be decorated to look as festive as possible.
Sam and his gaffer came over on the morning of the party bringing baskets filled with fruits and mushrooms. Myrtle Burrow was already in his kitchen, clinking and clattering with the pots and pans. Trying to prove what a good wife she would make, if he only popped the question. Rosie, Sam's wife, came over a little later to help Frodo with laying out the tables.
Frodo had taken out the best china, the same Bilbo had used for his birthday. Midday passed and Celandine Bracegirdle was carted up the driveway. Her father helped her down and carried all the cakes, tarts and biscuits into Bag End. To all Hobbitonians astonishment another cart stopped at the hill under the tree and delivered a quite different tree to be erected in Mr. Frodo's front garden.
Two men clad in the garb of the Northern Rangers carried a huge pine tree and planted it in the prepared hole. Sam was standing by, overseeing the proceedings. He would make sure that they were not messing with his - Mr. Frodo's garden.
Merry and Pippin had come over with their families. The two had immediately taken charge of the Christmas punch and all the other drinks. Frodo shuddered at the thought. He had better check that the two had not put to much alcohol into the punch.
All the guests had arrived by eight in the evening and Frodo 'rode' into the hall on his Yulebuck. As a highlight of the evening the Yule log was lit and all had stood and toasted it.
The evening festivities were jolly and the guests staid until late into the night.
It was in the small hours of the morning that they finally bet their host good night and they all turned at the door waved and called:“MERRY CHRISTMAS, MR. FRODO!”