Frodo and Merry One-Shots

Monster

It was another quiet evening. I was alone in my bedroom. I wanted to be alone. Something was deeply troubling me. I couldn't get it off my mind. I didn't like being the only human living in the Shire. The hobbits don't really like me. Well, except for Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin. The hobbits see me as some sort of monster.
You know the movie Frankenstein? Well, there's this scene where a mob of angry villagers come chasing after Frankenstein. They chant and scream and curse foul words. They wield sharp, rusty pitchforks and torches lit with violent flames. It sort of feels like I'm the monster. I'm Frankenstein. The angry villagers are the hobbits. One day, they will probably come chasing after me with pitchforks and torches. I could only imagine.

An awful feeling came over me. My head collapsed in my hands and I started to cry.

All of a sudden, I heard the sound of Frodo's gentle voice outside my bedroom door. He knocked, quietly. "Brianna? May I come in?" I shook my head. "No. You...you can't come in." I whimpered.

"Why not, dear?" Asked Frodo. I sniffled, loudly. I wiped my nose with the edge of my nightshirt sleeve. "You can't." I whimpered again.

Frodo twisted the doorknob and entered the room. He heard my silent cries. A feeling of pity filled Frodo's kind heart. He walked over to me and sat down beside me. "What is the matter?" I turned away from Frodo. I didn't deserve pity. I didn't deserve his pity. I stared down into my lap and didn't reply back.

"You haven't talked much today." I could tell that Frodo was worried. I shrugged my shoulders. I didn't care what Frodo had to say.

"You barely ate your dinner." he replied. "You didn't even eat your dessert. I know how much you love dessert, Brianna. Cakes, biscuits, apple tarts......" Frodo was trying his best to get me to feel better. I know what he wanted. He wanted to get me to open up to him about what was bothering me. If I told him, I didn't think he would understand. No one understands.

Frodo placed a gentle hand on my right shoulder. "You like apple tarts, don't you?" A wide grin grew on his cheery face. I clicked my tongue and shrugged my shoulders. I refused to care.

"Won't you please tell me what's bothering you, Brianna?" Frodo begged. "I'm right here. You can tell me anything." I crossed my arms in frustration. I fixed my gaze on the wooden bedroom flooring.

I gently pushed away Frodo's hand from my shoulder. I didn't need his compassion. I mean, why would a monster like me deserve love and compassion? I still refused to open up to Frodo, no matter how hard he tried to get me to spill out the truth.

I slowly rose from my bed. I stared out my window. The pale moonlight shined upon my tearful face. I heard Frodo get up from the bed. He came up behind me and placed both of his hands upon my shoulders, comfortingly. I felt no comfort. A monster like me does not deserve comfort.

I felt Frodo's warm breath upon the back of my neck. "Brianna?" he said, in a voice that was as soft and smooth as silk. "Won't you please tell me what's bothering you?"

I shook my head, quickly. "I...don't want to." "Why not?" Frodo moved in closer to me. "You wouldn't understand." I replied, in a grief-stricken voice. "Nobody does. Nobody will."

"What do you mean, Brianna?" Frodo asked, quietly.

"Frodo....what...what am I?" I shivered.

"You are my daughter."

"I'm a monster."

"Why do you say that?"