Oneshots - LOTR, Silm, Tolkien in General

When the River Rolls

***This is a work of fanfiction. I do not own Middle-Earth. All rights go to J.R.R. Tolkien***

Author's Note: So, this is actually slightly AU. I wrote this whole thing before checking up on my facts (foolish, foolish, never do it. :P) and discovered that Frodo's parents died when he was twelve.

Hehe.

But I liked my version still. So I decided to call it a "what-if-Frodo's-parents-died-when-he-was-younger".

Wow, I feel sheepish though.

Also, the title is a subtle allusion to the old hymn "It Is Well With My Soul". The second line reads, "...When sorrows like sea-billows roll."

Header art is by Stars_Alight!

The 30th of September, T.A. 2968

"Nonsense. Nonsense, you did not just say that!"

"Confounded protocol of society," Bilbo Baggins grumbled, buttoning up his waistcoat in front of the hall mirror. "It's a silly christening."

"Your own nephew's christening!"

"Well, that's one method of putting it. On the other hand, I'm also his first and second cousin, once removed either way, and that's certainly not worth the bother of going to his christening."

"My mother went to her fifth cousin's christening. Mr. Baggins, you're crazy." Marigold Bolger slapped her hands firmly on her hips, her brown curls bouncing.

"Show some respect for your elders, lass." Bilbo harrumphed at their reflections. "I was fifty years old before you were born." He studied himself, and a faintly repentant look crept into his eyes. "It's not that I don't like Drogo, of course – or Primula! They're dear young things. And I'm sure their son is a darling child. It's just that – Marigold my dear, I've got this marvelous idea for my book. I haven't had a moment's peace for weeks, and I was just about ready to settle down and begin it for real. Why, I had the beginning down pat! But there's birthdays, parties, celebrations, never-ending, and now a christening! Huh. All this fuss over nothing. Silly hobbit-folk dictating me to follow these silly rules, when all I want to do is have a bit of time alone.

"I daresay it would give a fine scandal if I didn't show up." A sly grin hovered on his pleasant face. "I think I won't!"

"Mr. Baggins," Marigold persisted desperately, "my mother thinks you're a queer old scoundrel, and it's a wonder she lets me come visit you at all. If you don't come, it will be a scandal, and she'll forbid me from ever talking to you again!"

Bilbo groaned. "Well, I suppose there's nothing for it. I shall have to endure a lot of simpering relations and gossipy old wives, and no doubt those dreaded Sackville-Bagginses will show up as well and make allusions to all those teaspoons they've never returned." He ruffled the top of her head affectionately. "What I do for you young folk."

~

Marigold shoved through the press of eager hobbits to reach the beaming mother in the center of them. Primula's honey-brown curls tossed around her slim face with the movement of her head; one moment she was greeting guests, the next making tender love to the baby in her arms.

"It's Marigold Bolger!" she exclaimed happily as the breathless younger hobbit reached her. "I hoped you'd come. Look at him, isn't he sweet?"

"Ohh!" Marigold leant over the tiny bundle with a squeal. "His eyes are just like yours, Prim. And oh, his little ringlets!"