Work Text:
“Your Adad is scary!” Samwise said; the thirteen-year-old giving Frodo a wide-eyed look.
“No, he’s not,” Frodo answered with a shake of his head. He couldn’t believe that Sam was only two years younger than him—Frodo wondered where the youngster’s sense of fun and excitement was. Sometimes Sam acted like a little old Hobbit.
Frodo, his younger cousin Merry, and Samwise were all heading down to the creek to play with strict orders to not go anywhere near the water. Frodo didn’t need to be told twice—he hated the water.
“You have to admit,” Merry added, “that Uncle Thorin does look like he might take a bite out of someone.” Merry was the same age as Samwise but he didn’t scare as easily, especially not by ‘Uncle Thorin.’
“Only the Sackville-Bagginses,” Frodo replied off-handedly.
“Still,” Samwise continued, “he scares me sometimes!”
“I don’t know why,” Frodo admitted. “He’s never done anything to you.”
“He stands there and gets that look,” Samwise stated, turning to the other two boys and trying his best to do a Thorin Oakenshield scowl. Frodo used all his might not to laugh—but Merry, on the other hand, failed!
“You look ridiculous!” Merry was almost at the point of having to clutch his sides.
Samwise huffed out a sigh. “I’m just saying one needs to be careful not to get on Mister Thorin’s wrong side.”
“Well,” Frodo said with a nod, “I can’t argue with that one. When Adad is mad, watch out!”
“Still,” Merry chimed in, “that is no reason to be afraid. Look at Pippin, he’s not afraid.”
“Pippin is three!” Samwise protested. “He doesn’t know any better. He even jumped up on Mister Dwalin’s lap and you want to talk about a Dwarf that looks he would eat a Hobbit for breakfast!”
“Oh, please,” Frodo rolled his eyes. “Uncle Dwalin's a bigger softie than Adad. If you want to be scared of anyone, you should watch out for my Papa and Uncle Ori! They look all innocent and sweet, but you change out the teacups and feather pens for weapons and you better run for the hills!”
Both Samwise and Merry had to agree to that. They once had a sleepover at Bag End with Frodo and overheard Mister Thorin and Mister Dwalin come home late one night from the Green Dragon and, boy, did Mister Bilbo and Mister Ori give them what for!
The trio finally reached the creek and Sam decided to try and fish while Frodo and Merry laid back on the ground to watch the clouds drift overhead. Frodo thought it was one of the best birthdays ever so far.
“So,” Merry said, apparently itching to ask the question all day, “What are we getting for your birthday?”
“You both almost got Dwarrow daggers,” Frodo said casually.
“What?!” Merry shot up and Samwise turned around to glaze at Frodo, both with wonder on their faces. “That is the greatest!”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Frodo said with a smirk. “When Papa found out what Adad was forging he said, no.”
“Oh, nuts!” Merry said with a pout.
“That’s a shame, that is,” Samwise added with a shake of his head.
“Well,” Frodo continued sitting up, “if it makes you feel any better—I’m pretty sure that Adad finished those daggers and plans on giving them to your Da’s with the idea that they will be passed on when you hit your tweens.”
“That might be okay for you,” Merry said, “you’ve only got five years ‘til you’re twenty, but Sam and I have to wait seven!”
“You’ll be lucky to see one,” a snide voice from behind them said.
All three friends whirled around and saw the three worst friends in all of Hobbiton. Moro Boffin, his brother Wilibald ‘Willy’, and Moro's henchman, Fastolph ‘Tolph’ Hardbottle. The three were all sixteen and notorious for stealing treats from little fauntlings and bullying younger boys like Frodo and Samwise.
“Go away, Moro,” Frodo said bravely. “You aren’t wanted here.”
The three older boys snickered viciously and the secondary two turned to their leader as he spoke.
“Not wanted?” Moro said mockingly surprised. “Why, you hurt our feelings.” Moro’s brother and henchman snickered again at the comment. “That’s not very respectable of you to be honest.”
“Yeah,” Willy agreed with a sneer. “So very un-Hobbity of you, half-breed.”
Tolph jeered. “You should teach, Faggins, a lesson, Moro.”
Moro nodded. “I think it’s time you learned how to respect those above you, Faggins.”
“Don’t you touch him!” Samwise said stepping forward and putting his fists up.
“Oh look,” Moro said as the other two laughed. “Faggins has got a boy-friend.”
“Figures,” Willy said. “he would fuck some piece of trash from the lower classes.”
“Don’t you dare call Sam trash!” Frodo and Merry chorused together.
The three bullies laughed again. “They must share, Gamgee, between them!”
With that, the three older boys advanced. The fight was quick and sadly predictable. Tolph had Merry down in seconds, but seeing how the he was older and almost ten kilos heavier, it was far from fair. Samwise gave Willy a good run, but in the end, he was no match for the older boy who was more used to fighting than stouthearted Samwise.
Frodo and Moro fought the longest. Frodo had been taught to dodge and block, weaver and move by not only his Adad, but his Uncle Dwalin and Uncle Ori's brother, Nori. Frodo was able to give as good as he got but as quick and agile as he was, Moro had size, strength and years on his side. In the end, Frodo found himself caught by the throat; there was little he could do but claw at Moro’s hands and try to keep breathing.
“I think,” Moro said brutishly, “I’ve had enough of dealing with, Half-Breed Faggins.” Moro dragged Frodo with him and stepped over to the edge of the creek. “Maybe I should just throw this filthy pervert into the water and be done with him.”
Frodo was wide-eyed and terrified. Of all the things in the world, water still played in his nightmares. The river had claimed his adoptive parents and as far as Frodo was concerned, he never wanted to be near it if he could help it. But he no matter how hard he struggled, he couldn’t break free from Moro’s grip and slowly, Moro pulled Frodo forward and young Baggins found himself dangled over the water’s edge.
“Time to say good-bye, Faggins,” Moro whispered savagely.
Then everything changed.
A great roar of rage was heard and a massive blur of honey-colored hair was on the group like a raging bear. Frodo could only watch as his younger brother, Frerin—built like their Adad and already two centimeters taller than Frodo at eleven years old—charged the others. Frerin backhanded Willy so hard, the older boy went sailing arse over teakettle. Without a moment’s lapse, Frerin turned and dispatched Tolph with a roundhouse kick to the chest. Then, before Moro could even react, Frerin grabbed him by the ears, turned Moro's head and head-butted the older Hobbit. As Moro fell backwards, Frerin reached out and caught Frodo before his older brother could fall into the water.
“You leave my big brother alone!” Frerin snarled at the older boys. “Or next time I’ll hurt you!” Frerin stood in front of his brother and his friends like a protective wall.
“What do you mean ‘next time?’” Merry quipped.
“Yeah,” Frodo said filled with pride. “I think you’ve already done it.”
“Go on and get!” Samwise yelled, standing next to Frerin. “You just wait ‘til Mister Thorin hears about this!”
“And Merry’s dad!” Frodo added. Merry’s father, Saradoc Brandybuck, was Master of Buckland—when he found out about this, the father of Moro and Tolph were going to find it hard to make a descent coin in Buckland.
With the threat of Thorin, son of Thrain, and the Master of Buckland, hanging in the air, the bullies took off running. Frerin turned to Frodo and started looking him over.
“Did they hurt you?” Frerin was clearly looking for signs of blood. But did see some bruising around Frodo’s neck that made him growl.
“I’m fine,” Frodo said, smiling up at this little brother. “Thanks to you.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Merry said smacking Frerin on the shoulder and getting a sore hand in return—Frerin was build like stone.
“You done good,” Samwise added and held out his hand so Frerin could shake it. Frodo and Merry giggled to themselves—Samwise was such the little old Hobbit.
“Are you hurt?” Frodo said and he started looking over his baby brother. He pulled back Frerin’s thick mane of honey-colored hair and checked the youngster’s furry, mutton-chopped cheeks for signs of blood or bruising but then remembered that the bullies had never laid a hand on Frerin. However, Frodo did notice that Frerin had a nasty cut on the back of his right hand and figured that he must of caught it on Willy’s teeth when he back-handed the older boy.
“I’m fine,” Frerin said, pushing Frodo’s hands away. Frodo could only shake his head—the boy was as stubborn as Adad was. Cut from the same cloth is what Papa always said.
“Well, let’s go home,” Frodo said, then turned to their friends, “See you later at the party.”
Merry and Samwise said good-bye and they all took off for home; well, in Merry’s case, for his aunt’s as he and his parents were visiting Hobbiton especially for Frodo’s birthday.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Frerin asked again as the two brothers moved along towards home.
“I’m okay,” Frodo answered. “Thank you.”
“I’d never forgive myself if they hurt you,” Frerin said quietly. Frodo was filled with affection for his little brother—the hulking lad always took the world on his shoulders, especially his family. Papa said that Adad was exactly the same—Frerin’s apple hadn't fallen far from Thorin’s tree.
“Well, I think when we get home,” Frodo said, “there will be cookies in our future!” Papa made the best cookies in all of Hobbiton—although, Bell Gamgee was a close second.”
“I doubt it,” Frerin said dejectedly. “I’ll be in trouble for fighting.”
“Nah,” Frodo responded. “Adad will think your brave and righteous for defending me and beating three bullies all on your own—who didn’t even get the chance to land a hand on you, I might add—and when Papa finds out that Moro dangled me over the water,” Frodo gave his brother a smug smile. “There will so be cookies!”
The both laughed until Frerin came to a standstill with a gasp.
“I totally forgot!” Frerin said looking frightened.
“Forgot what?” Frodo was taken aback.
“Uncle Dwalin and Uncle Ori arrived earlier,” Frerin’s eyes were getting wider. “That’s why I came looking for you!”
It took a few seconds before realization hit Frodo and he too was scared. “Oh, no! Uncle Dwalin will have every cookie in the house eaten if we don’t get there soon!”
“Mahal’s Balls!” Frerin spat out and the two brothers were running full out for Bag End.
“Don’t let Papa here you swear!” Frodo said with smirk. “You know he’ll tell you it’s inappropriate.”
“Uncle Dwalin will decimate the cookie horde!” Frerin shouted. “It is appropriate!”
Frodo thought about that and knew his brother to be right. “Damnit!” Frodo swore as the two of them picked up their speed.