The Long Expected Party, part two
Oct. 5th, 2005 08:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
auntiemeeshThis particular chapter is a bit of a departure from the story, but who could resist wee!Pippin?
Frodo sighed in relief when the pilot slid the shuttle safely into the docking bay on the Bag End and turned off the seatbelt signs. Stepping off the shuttle, he looked around him with fresh eyes, hyper-aware that he was completely responsible for the safety and well-being of not only Bag End but everyone who lived there as well.
Shaking his head and dispelling the gloomy mood, he headed for the galley, hoping to get a small snack before bed. The galley was always open, ready to serve everyone, regardless of what shift they worked. Frodo slipped in, nodded to the cook on duty, and helped himself to a small snack; a large bowl of thick, hearty lentil and rice stew, half a loaf of bread with a small crock of butter and another of honey, a plate of biscuits, and fixings for a cup of tea – full teapot, cream and sugar.
“Are you sure you have enough, Master, er Mr. Frodo?” the cook, Daisy Gamgee, asked, blushing at the slip of her tongue but determined that the master not go to bed hungry.
“This should do it, Daisy,” Frodo assured her with a smile, feeling a certain thrill at being called Mr. Frodo for the first time. Nodding in farewell, he took his well-laden tray and retired to his rooms.
The end of the sleep cycle came all too soon and Frodo woke with a groan at the buzzing of an alarm. It gradually came to him that it wasn’t the alarm that usually woke him, but rather his intercom demanding his attention.
“Captain Baggins, sir,” the disembodied voice said, “there’s an urgent call coming in from the FSS Smials.”
Frodo spent a long moment wondering why they thought Bilbo would be in his quarters before remembering that Bilbo was gone and had left everything, including ownership and captaincy of Bag End to him. Rolling over, he pushed a button and answered in a groggy voice. “Patch it through to my private line, please.”
“Frodo, this is Paladin. I’m sorry to disturb you so early but we’ve got a problem here.”
The carefully controlled distress in Pal’s voice finished the job of waking Frodo up.
“What’s the situation?” he asked, instantly alert.
“Peregrin’s gone missing and we think he may have stowed away on your shuttle last night.”
Ten minutes later, fully briefed, Frodo was on the bridge, organizing a search of his ship.
“Pippin is very small,” he said, “so he could be hiding almost anywhere. Don’t rule any corner or cubicle out.”
The gathered hobbits spread out and began moving throughout the ship, diligently searching their assigned sectors. Pippin, an eleven year old hobbit-lad with rather more impishness in his nature than most hobbits, had proven quite a trial to his parents in the past few years. Frodo rather suspected that Eglantine, Pippin’s mother, would never fully recover from the shock of finding her youngest child hiding in her closet, spying on her and Paladin one night, trying to find out what they got up to that made so much noise when they should be safely tucked away in bed.
Hoping that Pippin would take no more harm from this adventure than usual, Frodo still felt more than a twinge of concern. There were a lot of places on a spaceship that were not safe for anyone, let alone an inquisitive small child who paid very little attention to warning signs. Suppressing his apprehension, Frodo moved off the bridge and in the direction of Bilbo’s quarters, having decided to search them himself.
The search was quickly complicated by the arrival of a number of visitors invited by Bilbo before he’d vanished. The old hobbit had made arrangements to distribute many of his things among his numerous friends and relations, and all of these items were now stacked in the cargo bay awaiting dispersal. This had been the first place Frodo searched but there had been no indication that any of the items had been disturbed by a curious child. Now he directed his visitors in that direction, promising to join them there as soon as he was able.
Frodo managed to elude the more persistent of the visitors and reached Bilbo’s rooms. Waving his hand in front of the sensor, he waited impatiently for the door to open. Bilbo had been meaning to get that fixed for some time now, but for some reason, it hadn’t bothered him enough to make it a priority. Finally, after what seemed like hours to the impatient hobbit, the doors opened and Frodo slipped into the first chamber, Bilbo’s parlor, where he entertained guests. There were very few places to hide in this room and Frodo scanned them all in short order. Moving on, he checked through Bilbo’s private office, library and kitchenette before heading into the bedroom. Standing silently just inside the door, he listened intently for several seconds before making a beeline for the old-fashioned wardrobe that Bilbo had stored his clothing in. It was a large, heavy piece of furniture that had been in Bilbo’s family for generations, dating back all the way to the Exodus. As Frodo approached, he could see that the door was slightly ajar and a smile crossed his face. Pippin had never really been all that good at hide-n-seek.
“Now, where could that pesky little hobbit be?” he mused out loud, pretending to peer under the bed and behind the night stand.
“I can’t find him anywhere,” he muttered, rather louder than one would normally mutter, ignoring the muffled giggles he heard coming from the wardrobe. “I don’t know what I’ll tell his mumma and papa. Maybe they’ll take another hobbit in exchange. I’m sure little Sassafras Twofoot would never run away from home. Maybe she would do.”
There was an anguished gasp from the wardrobe but no little hobbit came forth.
“Hm,” Frodo continued in a musing voice, “maybe not. I think her parents might miss her quite a lot, when I come to think of it. Maybe young Sam Gamgee. He’s a bit older, but he’s also more responsible. He’d be a great help to Pal and Tina, I’m sure they’d appreciate his presence no end. Yes,” he concluded as the door of the wardrobe opened and a small, dusty figure tumbled out, “I think that’s the solution.”
“No, Frodo!” the small apparition wailed in distress. “Don’t send Sam home with Mumma and Papa. I wanna go home with them.”
“Why, Pippin Took, wherever did you come from?” Frodo asked in well-feigned amazement.
Pippin hunched his shoulders and answered in a very small, truculent voice, “I was hiding. In the wardrobe. It’s the best place,” he continued, forgetting to be sad as he described the wonder of the wardrobe. “It smells just like Uncle Bilbo’s pipe, and it’s huge! I bet there’s room for a hundred hobbits in there.”
Frodo bit back the smile that threatened to sneak onto his face. “Well, it sounds like a fascinating place. I’m sure you’ll be very happy living there, and I think that Sam will work out very well with your parents. Although,” here Frodo hesitated for just a moment, “I suppose he might miss his own parents frightfully.”
“Don’t wanna live in Uncle Bilbo’s wardrobe,” Pippin said, once again looking very small and rather forlorn. “Wanna go home with Mumma and Papa.”
Frodo knelt down in front of the small child. “I think we can arrange that,” he said very gently. “Why did you hide in here, Pippin?’
“Papa said Uncle Bilbo left and wasn’t coming back, but I thought for sure he’d be here. I thought if I just waited very quietly he’d come back soon.”
“Oh, Pippin,” Frodo said, rather mournfully, “I don’t think Uncle Bilbo is coming back.”
Pippin stared at Frodo with huge eyes. “Are you very sad, Frodo?” he asked intently.
“Yes,” Frodo answered, blinking back the tears that had sprung up suddenly at this turn of the conversation. “Yes, I am very sad, Pippin.”
“Why did he leave?”
“I don’t really know.” Frodo wiped the tears off his cheeks as he answered. “I think he wanted to have another adventure like the one he went on years ago. I think he misses the elves and the excitement.”
“Oh.” Pippin took a moment to absorb this information. “Are you going to leave, too, Frodo?”
“No, Pippin. I’m going to stay right here, for a long time.”
“Good. I’d be awful lonely without you, Frodo.” The little lad gave Frodo another big squeeze before stepping back. “I want to go home now.”
“Yes, I think that’s a good idea,” Frodo answered with a small smile. Calling off the search parties, he took the child by the hand and walked with him to the docking bay, fairly sure that the only way to guarantee the child’s safe arrival home was to take him, himself. His stomach growled as they walked, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten yet this morning, but he consoled himself with the thought that Tina would provide him with a good, solid meal. She was far too good a hostess to ever let a hobbit go hungry in her presence, and her cook was excellent. Frodo grinned as he thought of the delightful prospect ahead.
Frodo sighed in relief when the pilot slid the shuttle safely into the docking bay on the Bag End and turned off the seatbelt signs. Stepping off the shuttle, he looked around him with fresh eyes, hyper-aware that he was completely responsible for the safety and well-being of not only Bag End but everyone who lived there as well.
Shaking his head and dispelling the gloomy mood, he headed for the galley, hoping to get a small snack before bed. The galley was always open, ready to serve everyone, regardless of what shift they worked. Frodo slipped in, nodded to the cook on duty, and helped himself to a small snack; a large bowl of thick, hearty lentil and rice stew, half a loaf of bread with a small crock of butter and another of honey, a plate of biscuits, and fixings for a cup of tea – full teapot, cream and sugar.
“Are you sure you have enough, Master, er Mr. Frodo?” the cook, Daisy Gamgee, asked, blushing at the slip of her tongue but determined that the master not go to bed hungry.
“This should do it, Daisy,” Frodo assured her with a smile, feeling a certain thrill at being called Mr. Frodo for the first time. Nodding in farewell, he took his well-laden tray and retired to his rooms.
The end of the sleep cycle came all too soon and Frodo woke with a groan at the buzzing of an alarm. It gradually came to him that it wasn’t the alarm that usually woke him, but rather his intercom demanding his attention.
“Captain Baggins, sir,” the disembodied voice said, “there’s an urgent call coming in from the FSS Smials.”
Frodo spent a long moment wondering why they thought Bilbo would be in his quarters before remembering that Bilbo was gone and had left everything, including ownership and captaincy of Bag End to him. Rolling over, he pushed a button and answered in a groggy voice. “Patch it through to my private line, please.”
“Frodo, this is Paladin. I’m sorry to disturb you so early but we’ve got a problem here.”
The carefully controlled distress in Pal’s voice finished the job of waking Frodo up.
“What’s the situation?” he asked, instantly alert.
“Peregrin’s gone missing and we think he may have stowed away on your shuttle last night.”
Ten minutes later, fully briefed, Frodo was on the bridge, organizing a search of his ship.
“Pippin is very small,” he said, “so he could be hiding almost anywhere. Don’t rule any corner or cubicle out.”
The gathered hobbits spread out and began moving throughout the ship, diligently searching their assigned sectors. Pippin, an eleven year old hobbit-lad with rather more impishness in his nature than most hobbits, had proven quite a trial to his parents in the past few years. Frodo rather suspected that Eglantine, Pippin’s mother, would never fully recover from the shock of finding her youngest child hiding in her closet, spying on her and Paladin one night, trying to find out what they got up to that made so much noise when they should be safely tucked away in bed.
Hoping that Pippin would take no more harm from this adventure than usual, Frodo still felt more than a twinge of concern. There were a lot of places on a spaceship that were not safe for anyone, let alone an inquisitive small child who paid very little attention to warning signs. Suppressing his apprehension, Frodo moved off the bridge and in the direction of Bilbo’s quarters, having decided to search them himself.
The search was quickly complicated by the arrival of a number of visitors invited by Bilbo before he’d vanished. The old hobbit had made arrangements to distribute many of his things among his numerous friends and relations, and all of these items were now stacked in the cargo bay awaiting dispersal. This had been the first place Frodo searched but there had been no indication that any of the items had been disturbed by a curious child. Now he directed his visitors in that direction, promising to join them there as soon as he was able.
Frodo managed to elude the more persistent of the visitors and reached Bilbo’s rooms. Waving his hand in front of the sensor, he waited impatiently for the door to open. Bilbo had been meaning to get that fixed for some time now, but for some reason, it hadn’t bothered him enough to make it a priority. Finally, after what seemed like hours to the impatient hobbit, the doors opened and Frodo slipped into the first chamber, Bilbo’s parlor, where he entertained guests. There were very few places to hide in this room and Frodo scanned them all in short order. Moving on, he checked through Bilbo’s private office, library and kitchenette before heading into the bedroom. Standing silently just inside the door, he listened intently for several seconds before making a beeline for the old-fashioned wardrobe that Bilbo had stored his clothing in. It was a large, heavy piece of furniture that had been in Bilbo’s family for generations, dating back all the way to the Exodus. As Frodo approached, he could see that the door was slightly ajar and a smile crossed his face. Pippin had never really been all that good at hide-n-seek.
“Now, where could that pesky little hobbit be?” he mused out loud, pretending to peer under the bed and behind the night stand.
“I can’t find him anywhere,” he muttered, rather louder than one would normally mutter, ignoring the muffled giggles he heard coming from the wardrobe. “I don’t know what I’ll tell his mumma and papa. Maybe they’ll take another hobbit in exchange. I’m sure little Sassafras Twofoot would never run away from home. Maybe she would do.”
There was an anguished gasp from the wardrobe but no little hobbit came forth.
“Hm,” Frodo continued in a musing voice, “maybe not. I think her parents might miss her quite a lot, when I come to think of it. Maybe young Sam Gamgee. He’s a bit older, but he’s also more responsible. He’d be a great help to Pal and Tina, I’m sure they’d appreciate his presence no end. Yes,” he concluded as the door of the wardrobe opened and a small, dusty figure tumbled out, “I think that’s the solution.”
“No, Frodo!” the small apparition wailed in distress. “Don’t send Sam home with Mumma and Papa. I wanna go home with them.”
“Why, Pippin Took, wherever did you come from?” Frodo asked in well-feigned amazement.
Pippin hunched his shoulders and answered in a very small, truculent voice, “I was hiding. In the wardrobe. It’s the best place,” he continued, forgetting to be sad as he described the wonder of the wardrobe. “It smells just like Uncle Bilbo’s pipe, and it’s huge! I bet there’s room for a hundred hobbits in there.”
Frodo bit back the smile that threatened to sneak onto his face. “Well, it sounds like a fascinating place. I’m sure you’ll be very happy living there, and I think that Sam will work out very well with your parents. Although,” here Frodo hesitated for just a moment, “I suppose he might miss his own parents frightfully.”
“Don’t wanna live in Uncle Bilbo’s wardrobe,” Pippin said, once again looking very small and rather forlorn. “Wanna go home with Mumma and Papa.”
Frodo knelt down in front of the small child. “I think we can arrange that,” he said very gently. “Why did you hide in here, Pippin?’
“Papa said Uncle Bilbo left and wasn’t coming back, but I thought for sure he’d be here. I thought if I just waited very quietly he’d come back soon.”
“Oh, Pippin,” Frodo said, rather mournfully, “I don’t think Uncle Bilbo is coming back.”
Pippin stared at Frodo with huge eyes. “Are you very sad, Frodo?” he asked intently.
“Yes,” Frodo answered, blinking back the tears that had sprung up suddenly at this turn of the conversation. “Yes, I am very sad, Pippin.”
“Why did he leave?”
“I don’t really know.” Frodo wiped the tears off his cheeks as he answered. “I think he wanted to have another adventure like the one he went on years ago. I think he misses the elves and the excitement.”
“Oh.” Pippin took a moment to absorb this information. “Are you going to leave, too, Frodo?”
“No, Pippin. I’m going to stay right here, for a long time.”
“Good. I’d be awful lonely without you, Frodo.” The little lad gave Frodo another big squeeze before stepping back. “I want to go home now.”
“Yes, I think that’s a good idea,” Frodo answered with a small smile. Calling off the search parties, he took the child by the hand and walked with him to the docking bay, fairly sure that the only way to guarantee the child’s safe arrival home was to take him, himself. His stomach growled as they walked, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten yet this morning, but he consoled himself with the thought that Tina would provide him with a good, solid meal. She was far too good a hostess to ever let a hobbit go hungry in her presence, and her cook was excellent. Frodo grinned as he thought of the delightful prospect ahead.
