elderberrywine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
elderberrywine) wrote2009-05-29 06:30 pm
elderberrywine) wrote2009-05-29 06:30 pm
A long anticipated day. . . .
School is out! Woot! And for the first time in seven years, I ain't doin' summer school. No way, no how. Gonna hate myself when July rolls around without a paycheck, but so it goes.
So. Will be around a little more, will get more reading and more writing done.
And here is a re-post of the latest fic.
Title: Pillow Talk
Author: Elderberry Wine
Pairing: F/S
Rating: Mildly adult
Word Count: 1433
Summary: For the Vice and Virtue Challenge. A conversation regarding Pride and Justice. More or Less. Part of the Shire Morns series.
“I thought he was a-goin’ to toss that squash straight in your lap and no mistake,” came the amused voice in the dark.
There was a low chuckle in response, and a slight rustle of fabric to be heard. “You weren’t the only one, love,” was the wry rejoinder. “I’m positive I must have flinched.”
“No more’n any body but me would have noticed,” came the quick staunch response.
“Perhaps so, but the fact remains that I did. And it was such a very large piece of produce. I would have been picking the seeds out of my clothing for a week, at the least.”
A few moments of silence fell before the original voice spoke again. “Still, an’ it wouldn’t have been the first time, eh, now, love?”
“What, for being pummeled with a pumpkin? No, it would have been an unmistakable first along those lines, I’m quite sure of it.”
“Don’t you think I‘d not be rememberin’ it, young as I was at the time.”
“Do you now,” and there was a definite note of unease in that simple statement.
“Aye. The gaffer had many a choice word to say about that young upstart from Buckland, you may be sure o’that. At least at first.”
There was a slight sigh, and an answering movement under the sheets. “I thought it was back to Brandy Hall for sure, for at least a day or two. Immediately after I made my choice, I could tell that Bilbo was furious. But how was I to know his opinion of the Sackville-Bagginses? I’d only just arrived in Hobbiton, and there had been no call to mention them. And I’m afraid that the fact that your father was his gardener had entirely slipped my mind at that moment as well. I hadn’t seen him enough to recognize him yet, at that point.”
“I’d be still rememberin’ that day, clear as anything. It must have been no more’n a week since you came, and there it was Harvest Festival. And all the town come out t’have a good look at you.”
“Did they really? I was desperately trying to find somewhere I could stand unnoticed, but Bilbo was, of course, in the thick of things, and hauled me along with him, whether I would or no.”
“Ah, well, you know Hobbiton now. Don’t you think that the Master on the Hill’s new heir wouldn’t cause a bit of a fuss? Aye, there was talk of naught but you all that winter, t’be sure. An’ more n’one with a question or two for me, seeing as how I was one of your nearest neighbors, so to say. Thought I wouldn’t guard my tongue as well as the gaffer. They’d be wrong on that score.” A low laugh, and a short pause, while both speakers occupied their mouths with a purpose other than speech, followed that last statement.
“What did Bilbo be sayin’ to you about what to do?” queried the first speaker, curious about this memorable event in his youth, once his head had come to rest cozily in its customary location in the hollow of the other’s shoulder.
”Not all that much,” was the preoccupied response, as the speaker stroked the other’s arm in an abstracted way. “Now that I consider it, perhaps it was a test of some sort. He just hefted up each pumpkin, as if he was considering the matter quite carefully. And when pressed for a decision as to which was the heavier, he merely turned to me and said, ‘Well then, Frodo-lad, what do you think?’ I thought that was a simple question until he added that one had been grown by Hamfast Gamgee, and the other belonged, and with an emphasis on that word, to Otho Sackville-Baggins. Neither of the names meant anything to me other than the obvious connection to our surname, but he was giving me such an odd intent look that I really had no idea what he might be trying to tell me, if anything.”
“You’d heard naught of the Sackville-Bagginses in Brandy Hall, then?” An amused chuckle accompanied that question.
“I’m sure Bilbo might have mentioned them on occasion, and never in a complementary way, I’m quite sure, but I paid that sort of thing no mind. At Brandy Hall, I lived in a perfect sea of close relations, near relations, and near and remotely related cousins beyond count, but very few of them paid any mind to me, and I returned the complement. Be that as it may, I judged the pumpkins with complete objectivity, and although it was a very near thing indeed, I declared Otho’s pumpkin the winner. I can still see the look on Bilbo’s face when I did so. He was so disappointed that for a few days, I was sure that my stay at Bag End would be, after all, a short one. But over time, I suppose he forgot the matter. At least, he never mentioned it again.”
“He spoke to Gandalf about it.”
“What? I never knew that! How do you know about it?”
There was an slightly embarrassed clearing of a throat at that point. “Well, I was trimming the verge, and I had seen Gandalf arrive, and so I might have been a trifle close to the window, mayhap.”
“Did anyone see you?”
“Aye, Gandalf, w’out a doubt. He gave me a look, and I thought for sure to be turned into a turnip, or summat, but then he said naught to me, and kept on talkin’ to Mister Bilbo, and I stayed there. For they was a’discussin’ you, you see, and I could no more leave than fly to the moon.”
“Ah, Sam-love,” and this warm exclamation was followed an immediate rustling of the covers, and heartfelt sighs, and exchanges of confidences that had nothing to do with the topic at hand.
But eventually, after intimate assurances had been exchanged and loving responses given, a short silence fell, and then the conversation returned to the original topic. “So what was it that Gandalf had to say?” came the very nearly anxious query.
“Well, now,” and the speaker paused to remember the events that had occurred so very long ago. “He asked, first off, if your choice was not the right one then. An’ Mr. Bilbo spoke right up and said as how one was as heavy as the other, and there was no way to chose between the pair o’them, no ways. But, he went on, there’d be a difference between my da, who had grown it his very self, and old Mr. Otho, who had bought it off of someone, and if you couldn’t see as how that made a difference, well, he was that disappointed in you and no mistake. He said that you hadn’t been fair a’tall.”
“Did he really say that?”
“Aye, true enough, but then old Gandalf just gave him a look, and cool as anything, asked him, ‘Is it the truth that you’d be after, Bilbo, or what as would make you happy?’ Well, Mr. Bilbo, he stammered and muttered for a bit, but finally came out with it. ‘The truth, I suppose.’ And old Gandalf, he gave him a nod as he knew as much, and said softly enough, ‘The truth isn’t always fair, as I’ve come to know to my regret. You know you’ll be getting nothing less than the truth from Frodo, my old friend. And there’ll be the day when the Shire will be thankful for that, indeed.’ “
There was silence for a moment or two as both parties mulled this statement over.
“What do you suppose he meant by that, Sam?” came the question at last.
“I’ve thought of it many a year, Frodo, you may be sure of that,” was the thoughtful response, “but Mr. Bilbo never asked a question, and I’d be thinking there was something they’d both be knowing along those lines, although what it was, I cannot think.”
“Well, I can’t imagine what I ever did to attract Gandalf’s attention,” was the decisive reply, after several moments of silence. “Haven’t seen that old scoundrel for a few years, now that I think about it. Most likely turn up like a bad penny one of these days, and I’ll ask him about it then. But in the meantime, Sam, if you’d just put your hand, oh, there, that would be lovely.”
Sam did so, and found it lovely indeed, and pumpkins, wizards, and mysterious conversations were soon forgotten in the light of much more delectable considerations.
So. Will be around a little more, will get more reading and more writing done.
And here is a re-post of the latest
Title: Pillow Talk
Author: Elderberry Wine
Pairing: F/S
Rating: Mildly adult
Word Count: 1433
Summary: For the Vice and Virtue
“I thought he was a-goin’ to toss that squash straight in your lap and no mistake,” came the amused voice in the dark.
There was a low chuckle in response, and a slight rustle of fabric to be heard. “You weren’t the only one, love,” was the wry rejoinder. “I’m positive I must have flinched.”
“No more’n any body but me would have noticed,” came the quick staunch response.
“Perhaps so, but the fact remains that I did. And it was such a very large piece of produce. I would have been picking the seeds out of my clothing for a week, at the least.”
A few moments of silence fell before the original voice spoke again. “Still, an’ it wouldn’t have been the first time, eh, now, love?”
“What, for being pummeled with a pumpkin? No, it would have been an unmistakable first along those lines, I’m quite sure of it.”
“Don’t you think I‘d not be rememberin’ it, young as I was at the time.”
“Do you now,” and there was a definite note of unease in that simple statement.
“Aye. The gaffer had many a choice word to say about that young upstart from Buckland, you may be sure o’that. At least at first.”
There was a slight sigh, and an answering movement under the sheets. “I thought it was back to Brandy Hall for sure, for at least a day or two. Immediately after I made my choice, I could tell that Bilbo was furious. But how was I to know his opinion of the Sackville-Bagginses? I’d only just arrived in Hobbiton, and there had been no call to mention them. And I’m afraid that the fact that your father was his gardener had entirely slipped my mind at that moment as well. I hadn’t seen him enough to recognize him yet, at that point.”
“I’d be still rememberin’ that day, clear as anything. It must have been no more’n a week since you came, and there it was Harvest Festival. And all the town come out t’have a good look at you.”
“Did they really? I was desperately trying to find somewhere I could stand unnoticed, but Bilbo was, of course, in the thick of things, and hauled me along with him, whether I would or no.”
“Ah, well, you know Hobbiton now. Don’t you think that the Master on the Hill’s new heir wouldn’t cause a bit of a fuss? Aye, there was talk of naught but you all that winter, t’be sure. An’ more n’one with a question or two for me, seeing as how I was one of your nearest neighbors, so to say. Thought I wouldn’t guard my tongue as well as the gaffer. They’d be wrong on that score.” A low laugh, and a short pause, while both speakers occupied their mouths with a purpose other than speech, followed that last statement.
“What did Bilbo be sayin’ to you about what to do?” queried the first speaker, curious about this memorable event in his youth, once his head had come to rest cozily in its customary location in the hollow of the other’s shoulder.
”Not all that much,” was the preoccupied response, as the speaker stroked the other’s arm in an abstracted way. “Now that I consider it, perhaps it was a test of some sort. He just hefted up each pumpkin, as if he was considering the matter quite carefully. And when pressed for a decision as to which was the heavier, he merely turned to me and said, ‘Well then, Frodo-lad, what do you think?’ I thought that was a simple question until he added that one had been grown by Hamfast Gamgee, and the other belonged, and with an emphasis on that word, to Otho Sackville-Baggins. Neither of the names meant anything to me other than the obvious connection to our surname, but he was giving me such an odd intent look that I really had no idea what he might be trying to tell me, if anything.”
“You’d heard naught of the Sackville-Bagginses in Brandy Hall, then?” An amused chuckle accompanied that question.
“I’m sure Bilbo might have mentioned them on occasion, and never in a complementary way, I’m quite sure, but I paid that sort of thing no mind. At Brandy Hall, I lived in a perfect sea of close relations, near relations, and near and remotely related cousins beyond count, but very few of them paid any mind to me, and I returned the complement. Be that as it may, I judged the pumpkins with complete objectivity, and although it was a very near thing indeed, I declared Otho’s pumpkin the winner. I can still see the look on Bilbo’s face when I did so. He was so disappointed that for a few days, I was sure that my stay at Bag End would be, after all, a short one. But over time, I suppose he forgot the matter. At least, he never mentioned it again.”
“He spoke to Gandalf about it.”
“What? I never knew that! How do you know about it?”
There was an slightly embarrassed clearing of a throat at that point. “Well, I was trimming the verge, and I had seen Gandalf arrive, and so I might have been a trifle close to the window, mayhap.”
“Did anyone see you?”
“Aye, Gandalf, w’out a doubt. He gave me a look, and I thought for sure to be turned into a turnip, or summat, but then he said naught to me, and kept on talkin’ to Mister Bilbo, and I stayed there. For they was a’discussin’ you, you see, and I could no more leave than fly to the moon.”
“Ah, Sam-love,” and this warm exclamation was followed an immediate rustling of the covers, and heartfelt sighs, and exchanges of confidences that had nothing to do with the topic at hand.
But eventually, after intimate assurances had been exchanged and loving responses given, a short silence fell, and then the conversation returned to the original topic. “So what was it that Gandalf had to say?” came the very nearly anxious query.
“Well, now,” and the speaker paused to remember the events that had occurred so very long ago. “He asked, first off, if your choice was not the right one then. An’ Mr. Bilbo spoke right up and said as how one was as heavy as the other, and there was no way to chose between the pair o’them, no ways. But, he went on, there’d be a difference between my da, who had grown it his very self, and old Mr. Otho, who had bought it off of someone, and if you couldn’t see as how that made a difference, well, he was that disappointed in you and no mistake. He said that you hadn’t been fair a’tall.”
“Did he really say that?”
“Aye, true enough, but then old Gandalf just gave him a look, and cool as anything, asked him, ‘Is it the truth that you’d be after, Bilbo, or what as would make you happy?’ Well, Mr. Bilbo, he stammered and muttered for a bit, but finally came out with it. ‘The truth, I suppose.’ And old Gandalf, he gave him a nod as he knew as much, and said softly enough, ‘The truth isn’t always fair, as I’ve come to know to my regret. You know you’ll be getting nothing less than the truth from Frodo, my old friend. And there’ll be the day when the Shire will be thankful for that, indeed.’ “
There was silence for a moment or two as both parties mulled this statement over.
“What do you suppose he meant by that, Sam?” came the question at last.
“I’ve thought of it many a year, Frodo, you may be sure of that,” was the thoughtful response, “but Mr. Bilbo never asked a question, and I’d be thinking there was something they’d both be knowing along those lines, although what it was, I cannot think.”
“Well, I can’t imagine what I ever did to attract Gandalf’s attention,” was the decisive reply, after several moments of silence. “Haven’t seen that old scoundrel for a few years, now that I think about it. Most likely turn up like a bad penny one of these days, and I’ll ask him about it then. But in the meantime, Sam, if you’d just put your hand, oh, there, that would be lovely.”
Sam did so, and found it lovely indeed, and pumpkins, wizards, and mysterious conversations were soon forgotten in the light of much more delectable considerations.
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I love this ficlet. It's so warm and intimate in tone.
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Oh, hey, just went to the new Annenberg Museum of Photography in Century City.
There's a pic of EW in the images they show in the circular theatre - watch the screen on the left. His eyes are closed - I know that pic. Yum. Oh, yeah, and it's free, too. *score!*
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Well, OK, one of the reasons. ;D
Of course, there is that paycheck-free month in the middle - *choke*
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And thanks on the fic. Nothing says solid love like conversations in bed, I think. :)
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BTW, might try organizing a little group to see Fellowship at the Falcon. Will send you a message through LJ. http://www.fellowshipthemusical.com/