(no subject)
Title: Cornflower Buds
Summary: Drogo and his son are making something for Primula.
Rated: F for flower and Frodo
Frodo tiptoed toward his father, who was sitting against the trunk of an old oak at the backyard, the boy’s hands full of cornflower buds, and tipped out all of them onto Drogo’s lap.
“I hope mama will not notice this,” he whispered. “We took all of the baby flowers.”
Drogo squinted up at his son blocking the sun light and for a moment he was seeing a dizzying flash of a glowing wee hobbit, and was busy with all the flower buds the next. He patted thickly-grassed space beside him.
“Sit here, Frodo. And don’t worry about the flowers. I’ll take care of it.” Drogo grinned widely, and handed out a string of thread to his son.
“Now let’s begin lacing them into this. The fair at Brandy Hall will be tomorrow. Your mama should be the most beautiful lady there.”
Bouncing in place, Frodo with his agile fingers started to weave the lilac flower blooms. Soon he drowned in his own world, humming a song only he knew the tune, putting the buds one after another after another to form a wreath of beautiful, soft-scented blossoms. Frodo played it with his fingers, sighing in contentment at the result of his work, eyes vacant as he imagined his beloved mother wearing the necklace.
A throat being cleared almost made him jump. He had totally forgotten about his father sitting beside him.
*
Summary: Drogo and his son are making something for Primula.
Rated: F for flower and Frodo
Frodo tiptoed toward his father, who was sitting against the trunk of an old oak at the backyard, the boy’s hands full of cornflower buds, and tipped out all of them onto Drogo’s lap.
“I hope mama will not notice this,” he whispered. “We took all of the baby flowers.”
Drogo squinted up at his son blocking the sun light and for a moment he was seeing a dizzying flash of a glowing wee hobbit, and was busy with all the flower buds the next. He patted thickly-grassed space beside him.
“Sit here, Frodo. And don’t worry about the flowers. I’ll take care of it.” Drogo grinned widely, and handed out a string of thread to his son.
“Now let’s begin lacing them into this. The fair at Brandy Hall will be tomorrow. Your mama should be the most beautiful lady there.”
Bouncing in place, Frodo with his agile fingers started to weave the lilac flower blooms. Soon he drowned in his own world, humming a song only he knew the tune, putting the buds one after another after another to form a wreath of beautiful, soft-scented blossoms. Frodo played it with his fingers, sighing in contentment at the result of his work, eyes vacant as he imagined his beloved mother wearing the necklace.
A throat being cleared almost made him jump. He had totally forgotten about his father sitting beside him.
*