(no subject)
truly_bohemian, I really took my time, didn't I? *blushes* It was like a loooooong time ago you betaed this story. *bows down* I really thank you for that!
Title: Falling
Rated: G
Summary: With whom did Frodo fall in love? :)
Falling
From the small crevice between the wooden doorsill and the door at his parents’ room, Frodo sneaked a look inside. A gasp was breathed out followed by a small smile as a voice called him in- he never thought that anyone inside would hear him.
“Never peep in, Frodo, or you’ll get an eyesore. Get inside.”
Grinning wider, the small lad stepped in. His mother and father were not even turning around, each too busy dressing up.
“Are you ready, son?” asked Drogo, Frodo’s father, glancing at his child swiftly. He sighed at the spectacle of Frodo, still with his creased outfit, after spending time all day reading and drifting off under a shady tree down by the clearing outside the small woods near their hobbit hole in this Crickhollow borough.
Frodo sighed, too, feeling reluctant to go.
“Must I come along, Papa?” he said slowly. “I feel like staying home this evening. I have another …”
“Oh, Frodo dear,” cut Primula, his mother. “You don’t want to disappoint your grandpa with your absence, do you? It’s his birthday. He must expect everyone to show their noses at his house, so he can give each of them his present!”
Frodo tossed himself on his parents’ bed, saying nothing. He landed on his belly, propping up his chin with the heels of his hands, observing the two adults before him becoming entangled with all kinds of accessories and jewelries to choose. Each had successfully picked out the best dress or shirt or weskit or breeches for themselves. Primula looked sweet and young in her layers of flowing crème silk. Now she was torn between a short and simple gold necklace and a long, colorful beaded one (although Frodo thought she would more than suffice without any of them. His mother was as exceptionally wonderful as always, especially with her long curly hair being let loose without any bonds.)
“Prim, help me with this button.” Frodo was jerked out of his musing, swirling his head to the direction of his father. Frodo had never realized before, but now that he looked more closely, he came to realize why his mother chose his father as her husband.
Unlike the other male hobbits, Drogo possessed none of those protruding bellies. He was lean and considered taller than the others. Another thing - the thing that made Frodo unable to tear his eyes away from his own father for the first time - Drogo seemed dark. Of course not his complexion, no. But it was the hair on his head and face. Unlike Primula, who looked so fair, Drogo owned the darkest hair Frodo had ever seen. And his eyebrows and lashes were dark too. All of them made the hobbit look stunning. Dark and handsome. Frodo smiled inwardly. He could not help but blush at the thought.
Clearing his throat, Frodo rose, mumbling something about him wanting to get dressed himself. Unfortunately, someone had caught his change of manner.
“Frodo?” Drogo tipped Frodo’s chin up. There was still some reddening on his son’s cheeks. The older hobbit chuckled quietly. He let go of Frodo and nudged his wife’s shoulder.
“Someone is falling in love with his own father.”
“What-” Primula turned around, catching Frodo’s averted eyes. She smiled. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”
The two then laughed heartlessly as Frodo scrambled down the bed and scurried out of the room.
~ fin ~
Title: Falling
Rated: G
Summary: With whom did Frodo fall in love? :)
Falling
From the small crevice between the wooden doorsill and the door at his parents’ room, Frodo sneaked a look inside. A gasp was breathed out followed by a small smile as a voice called him in- he never thought that anyone inside would hear him.
“Never peep in, Frodo, or you’ll get an eyesore. Get inside.”
Grinning wider, the small lad stepped in. His mother and father were not even turning around, each too busy dressing up.
“Are you ready, son?” asked Drogo, Frodo’s father, glancing at his child swiftly. He sighed at the spectacle of Frodo, still with his creased outfit, after spending time all day reading and drifting off under a shady tree down by the clearing outside the small woods near their hobbit hole in this Crickhollow borough.
Frodo sighed, too, feeling reluctant to go.
“Must I come along, Papa?” he said slowly. “I feel like staying home this evening. I have another …”
“Oh, Frodo dear,” cut Primula, his mother. “You don’t want to disappoint your grandpa with your absence, do you? It’s his birthday. He must expect everyone to show their noses at his house, so he can give each of them his present!”
Frodo tossed himself on his parents’ bed, saying nothing. He landed on his belly, propping up his chin with the heels of his hands, observing the two adults before him becoming entangled with all kinds of accessories and jewelries to choose. Each had successfully picked out the best dress or shirt or weskit or breeches for themselves. Primula looked sweet and young in her layers of flowing crème silk. Now she was torn between a short and simple gold necklace and a long, colorful beaded one (although Frodo thought she would more than suffice without any of them. His mother was as exceptionally wonderful as always, especially with her long curly hair being let loose without any bonds.)
“Prim, help me with this button.” Frodo was jerked out of his musing, swirling his head to the direction of his father. Frodo had never realized before, but now that he looked more closely, he came to realize why his mother chose his father as her husband.
Unlike the other male hobbits, Drogo possessed none of those protruding bellies. He was lean and considered taller than the others. Another thing - the thing that made Frodo unable to tear his eyes away from his own father for the first time - Drogo seemed dark. Of course not his complexion, no. But it was the hair on his head and face. Unlike Primula, who looked so fair, Drogo owned the darkest hair Frodo had ever seen. And his eyebrows and lashes were dark too. All of them made the hobbit look stunning. Dark and handsome. Frodo smiled inwardly. He could not help but blush at the thought.
Clearing his throat, Frodo rose, mumbling something about him wanting to get dressed himself. Unfortunately, someone had caught his change of manner.
“Frodo?” Drogo tipped Frodo’s chin up. There was still some reddening on his son’s cheeks. The older hobbit chuckled quietly. He let go of Frodo and nudged his wife’s shoulder.
“Someone is falling in love with his own father.”
“What-” Primula turned around, catching Frodo’s averted eyes. She smiled. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”
The two then laughed heartlessly as Frodo scrambled down the bed and scurried out of the room.
~ fin ~