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Oct. 29th, 2006 01:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
claudia603Too Long to Wait: The Pumpkin Party
Rated PG
Pairing: Frodo/Aragorn
Ellohir is about four years old here
Warning: usual brand of TLTW fluff, schmoop, etc. :-)
Disclaimer: Don’t own anything. Don’t make any money off it.
A gigantic floor-shaking crash startled Frodo awake from a blissful afternoon nap, and he leaped from his bed to his feet, disoriented and dizzy.
“Ellohir?” he called, heart pounding. He had a terrible vision of the child having fallen out of bed with a head injury. The sun had sunk low in the sky, and an autumn chill filled the air. Late October in Minas Tirith had not the same crispness to the air as it did in the Shire, being so much farther south, but at last the weather had taken a distinct turn for the cooler.
“It is only I!” Aragorn called from the sitting room.
Relief spread down Frodo’s limbs, weakening them, and he rushed to greet Aragorn. “Foolish Ranger, you frightened me.” He threw himself into Aragorn’s arms. He startled and his mouth fell open when he caught sight of the giant pumpkin in the middle of the floor. “Why -- what in the world?” He pulled out of Aragorn’s embrace and set his hands on the smooth ridges of the largest pumpkin he had ever seen. “Where ever did you find a pumpkin in Minas Tirith? I did not think they grew here!”
“There are hidden gardens in the City.”
Frodo snorted and cuffed Aragorn’s arm. “We shall discuss that another time and why I have not been brought to see them. But this!” His eyes widened with wonder. “This is the biggest pumpkin I’ve ever seen!” He laughed, running his hands again over the smooth skin. The stem was bigger than his hand. “My word! If only Sam could see this! We shall have to carve it.”
“Is that what you hobbits do? I had thought we would eat it, bake it into some sort of pie. I’ve had some in Bree. It had an unusual taste, but I rather liked it.”
Frodo sniffed. “Aragorn Elessar. With all the time you spent wandering in the Shire and in Bree, I should think you would know all about pumpkin carving.” He smiled and clutched Aragorn’s hand with both of his with sudden affection. “But truly. Thank you. I never thought I’d get to show Ellohir a real pumpkin.”
“You mentioned it a few years ago at about this time of year.”
“And you remembered?” Frodo asked, deeply touched. “You remembered and went out of your way to plant a pumpkin?”
Aragorn’s smile faded. “Not a day goes by when I do not wonder about keeping a hobbit here in this city of stone when I know how his feet long for soft earth and I know how his eyes thirst to see rolling green hills and apple trees.”
Frodo kissed Aragorn’s hand and held it to his cheek. “And not a day goes by when I don’t think that the Shire has many things that I miss, but it has no Aragorn.”
Just then Ellohir padded into the sitting room, his curly hair rumpled, rubbing his eyes. He startled fully awake when he saw the pumpkin. He froze.
“What’s that?” He looked worried.
Frodo smiled. “It’s a pumpkin. Come here, sweet pea.”
Ellohir ran to Frodo, his eyes wide with trust but still uncertain about the pumpkin. Frodo gathered Ellohir in his lap just in front of the pumpkin. He kissed Ellohir’s curly head before continuing. “See, darling, we have pumpkins in the Shire, and when fall comes and the air turns crisp and cold and the sky turns bright blue, all the leaves on the trees turn to the colors of jewels. And that’s when we take these pumpkins and carve faces in them.”
“Faces?” Ellohir said, twisting around and looking at Frodo. “Like silly faces?”
“More likely scary faces,” Frodo said. “They’re meant to scare the ghosts and spirits away…so they don’t steal little boys and girls away from their beds at night.”
“Oh.” Ellohir’s eyes widened, and he glanced at the window.
“But there are no ghosts and spirits here in Minas Tirith,” Frodo said, cringing. The last thing he wanted to deal with was Ellohir having a nightmare in the middle of the night.
“You jest, Frodo. Minas Tirith is full of spirits,” Aragorn said, but he stopped abruptly at Frodo’s warning glance.
“So we just carve faces for fun, really,” Frodo finished.
“What else do you do?” Ellohir asked, his eyes shining. To him, the Shire was a fairy land, full of wonder and things he might never see. He never tired of hearing about it and of course Frodo never tired of talking about it.
Frodo laughed and squeezed Ellohir tightly. “Apples, Ellohir! Imagine apples bobbing in a tub of water and hobbit boys and girls dipping their faces in, trying to snag one with their teeth!”
Ellohir laughed. “They’d get water in their faces!”
“Oh, and all over our costumes, too.”
“Costumes?”
“Oh, yes, Ellohir, costumes! Disguises. We would dress up as pirates or animals or dragons or Elves or anything we could think of. Bilbo always helped the children at Brandy Hall come up with the costume ideas. I was a Wood Elf one year. Another year I was a goblin. And then we’d have candy apples – dipped in sweet caramel. Not to mention the pumpkin pie.”
“Oh,” Ellohir said. “I want to go! I want a costume!”
“Someday, dear Ellohir.” Frodo’s heart sank because he did not know when he would ever feel well enough for such a long journey and when Aragorn would have the time to join them.
“You always say that.”
Frodo’s shoulders tensed as a wondrous idea hit him. “Ellohir! Aragorn! We should have a hobbit autumn party right here in Minas Tirith! Oh, the guard’s children would love it!”
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Aragorn said.
“A party!” Ellohir clapped. “Let’s have a party! And wear costumes!”
“What would you like to be, Ellohir?” Aragorn asked.
“A hobbit!”
Frodo laughed, kissing his curls again. “But you are a hobbit already! Think of something scary or silly.”
“I want to be a guard then.”
“That’s neither scary nor silly,” Aragorn said somewhat indignantly.
“But those hats they wear are silly!” Ellohir giggled.
“Oh, let him be a Guard of the Citadel,” Frodo said, laughing. “Surely we can find one of Faramir’s outfits from when he was a boy.”
“I believe Pippin was given that one during the War.”
“I know, but there must be another.”
Aragorn laughed. “We will have one made. Ellohir is far smaller than Faramir was as a boy.”
So word went out that the King was throwing a big gala such as happened each year in the faraway land of the Halflings. Children were especially invited, and they were to wear costumes. Tailors in Minas Tirith were ordered to drop everything and make costumes for the city’s children, and soon the Citadel fell into a flurry of party preparation. Frodo had a near miss when he was nearly run over by the bustling of excited cooks under his direction in the kitchen. They labored on pie shells, seedcake, and other hobbit dainties.
At last, the night before the big event arrived. Exhausted, Frodo sat in front of the pumpkin, holding Ellohir on his lap. Aragorn sat beside him, cross-legged. Before them rested the giant pumpkin.
They had a big decision to make.
“What sort of face shall we carve on it?” Frodo asked.
“A very scary one!” Ellohir giggled, covering his mouth. “Like a bear.” And he whispered in an awed voice, “Or a big, giant spider!”
“Perhaps an Orc,” Aragorn said, stroking his beard.
“Or Denhern,” Frodo whispered, and he and Aragorn laughed behind their hands, evoking a puzzled look from little Ellohir. Denhern was a guard of the Citadel who was perpetually surly and unfriendly to everyone.
But Ellohir did not miss a beat, and he said, “How about Alia when she’s in a bad mood. She can be very scary.”
Frodo ruffled Ellohir’s hair. “I suppose you do absolutely nothing to raise her ire, do you?”
“I’m always a good boy,” Ellohir said, folding his arms in front of him.
“Always?” Aragorn asked, raising his eyebrows.
“I am certain that Alia has many stories that prove otherwise,” Frodo said. “Hmmm…as for the pumpkin, I was thinking of Lobelia Sacksville-Baggins, my sour-faced cousin in the Shire that had Bag End while I was on the quest, but I suppose that wouldn’t be very kind of me. According to Sam, she turned out to not be so bad, after all, in the last years of her life.”
“What about Gandalf?” Aragorn asked.
Frodo and Aragorn looked at each other in sudden understanding. “Gimli!” they shouted at the same time before bursting into new laughter.
“Ah, but there are far too many choices,” Frodo said. “So let us just make a scary face and let it be who it wants to be.”
Aragorn carved the top of the pumpkin off. Then he looked up and smiled at Frodo and Ellohir. “All right, now you two get to do the dirty work.”
“Ha, do not look at me,” Frodo laughed. “I think this is a job for Ellohir. See, Ellohir, now you must dig all the gooey stuff from inside the pumpkin and put it in this bowl. Later we’ll make pumpkin pie out of it for the party.”
“Yay!” Ellohir shouted. “I get to get dirty!”
Frodo took off Ellohir’s shirt, and he dug into the pumpkin. Not long after, he was covered in orange slime, but all the goo and pumpkin seeds had made it safely in the bowl, leaving the pumpkin hollow and ready for carving.
“I will give him a bath,” Frodo said. “Now, Aragorn, let’s see what you come up with while we’re gone.” He winked at Aragorn.
Frodo drew Ellohir’s bath and he scrubbed all the pumpkin goo from him. After Frodo toweled Ellohir off and helped him into his nightshirt, Frodo noticed that Aragorn had blown out all the lanterns in the sitting room.
“Now what is he up to?” Frodo asked.
“Why is it dark?” Ellohir whispered, taking Frodo’s hand.
“I do not know,” Frodo said. “Let us see.”
Frodo and Ellohir came back into the sitting room. The enormous pumpkin with a very scary face flickering with fire gave Frodo’s heart a nasty start. Then he laughed.
But Ellohir screamed and wailed with terror, jumping up and down, clutching Frodo’s hand.
Aragorn scrambled to light the room again. “Look, Ellohir,” he said. “It is only our pumpkin. Do you see?”
“It’s scary,” Ellohir sobbed. “Scary!”
“Come now, Ellohir,” Frodo said, gathering the small boy in his arms. “It’s only a face that Aragorn made. Remember? You wanted him to make a scary face? And look -- he put a candle in there…that’s why it looks so frightening. Come, do you want to see?”
“But he’ll eat me!”
Frodo bit back his laughter. “I’m afraid it’s the other way around – it’s the pumpkin that we will be eating tomorrow.”
“It’s not real,” Aragorn added. “Come see.”
Frodo groaned. “He’s going to have nightmares. You shouldn’t have turned off the lights.”
“He’ll be all right after he learns about it,” Aragorn said. He swung Ellohir up in his arms and showed him the pumpkin. Ellohir’s blue eyes widened as he observed the candle inside the pumpkin.
“See?” Aragorn said. “Just a face with a candle inside. It can’t hurt you and it can’t eat you.”
Ellohir sniffed, and Aragorn wiped the tears from his cheek.
“All hobbit children have these in their homes,” Frodo said, knowing Ellohir’s desire to be as much like a hobbit child as possible.
“Did you?” Ellohir asked, his breath hitching. He touched the pumpkin with caution, as if he expected it to bite him.
“Oh, indeed I did. Bilbo used to come to Brandy Hall when I was a lad. Brandy Hall was where I lived with all my cousins and aunts and uncles. When Bilbo came, he would throw a big party for all of us, just like we’re going to have tomorrow, and we would carve pumpkins. Of course they were much smaller pumpkins than this one. We used to have a contest for who could carve the scariest face.”
“Did you ever win?” Aragorn asked.
Frodo laughed. “Never. Mine always just looked sad. Merry won a few times.”
“That surprises me not,” Aragorn said with a chuckle.
Ellohir giggled through his tears. “Silly pumpkin!” He slapped it. “Can’t hurt me.”
“That’s right,” Frodo said. “But now it’s time to go to bed because tomorrow’s the big day!”
Mercifully Ellohir slept well, with no nightmares in the middle of the night, and he woke up the next day so excited and wound up that Frodo hardly got anything done in preparation for the party. The little guard’s outfit looked darling on Ellohir. Ellohir tore around the room, swinging his paper sword at anything that moved. He ran to the pumpkin and slapped it. “See? Can’t hurt me! Attercop, attercop, down you drop!” Frodo laughed, marveling that Ellohir remembered the tale of Bilbo and the spiders in Mirkwood Forest.
The party bloomed into full life by sundown. The children of Minas Tirith, mostly children of the guards and other staff that worked for the King, were dressed in a variety of colorful costumes – animals, Elves, Orcs, and ghosts. Children bobbed for apples, candy was strewn on the ground to be collected, and pumpkin pie was eaten by all. The adults drank wine and feasted on dainties that most had never before tasted but quickly grew to love.
Frodo nudged Aragorn. They were sitting at the banquet table, watching the festivities. “Look at Ellohir.”
Ellohir, still dressed as a guard, had taken a special interest in a little girl with butterfly wings. He took her hand and led her around the Great Hall, showing her this and that and sometimes waving his sword at anyone who tried to come near them.
“Perhaps we have a future match for our Ellohir,” Frodo laughed.
Aragorn sipped his wine, raising his eyebrows. “I thought we were saving him for Faramir and Eowyn’s daughter.”
“True love cannot be denied,” Frodo said as Ellohir bowed and kissed the butterfly girl’s hand. The girl giggled and jumped up and down, and Frodo heard Ellohir say in a dignified imitation of Aragorn’s voice, “Come, dear lady, I shall show you the pumpkin that our King carved last night. And I must tell you that there is nothing to fear. It can’t hurt you or me and it won’t eat us.”
Frodo closed his eyes and lost himself in the sounds and smells of home – the candied apples, the pumpkin pie, the joyful laughter of children.
Aragorn clasped his hand, and Frodo opened his eyes. He met Aragorn’s loving gaze, and he knew then where home truly was.
Go on to next part
Rated PG
Pairing: Frodo/Aragorn
Ellohir is about four years old here
Warning: usual brand of TLTW fluff, schmoop, etc. :-)
Disclaimer: Don’t own anything. Don’t make any money off it.
A gigantic floor-shaking crash startled Frodo awake from a blissful afternoon nap, and he leaped from his bed to his feet, disoriented and dizzy.
“Ellohir?” he called, heart pounding. He had a terrible vision of the child having fallen out of bed with a head injury. The sun had sunk low in the sky, and an autumn chill filled the air. Late October in Minas Tirith had not the same crispness to the air as it did in the Shire, being so much farther south, but at last the weather had taken a distinct turn for the cooler.
“It is only I!” Aragorn called from the sitting room.
Relief spread down Frodo’s limbs, weakening them, and he rushed to greet Aragorn. “Foolish Ranger, you frightened me.” He threw himself into Aragorn’s arms. He startled and his mouth fell open when he caught sight of the giant pumpkin in the middle of the floor. “Why -- what in the world?” He pulled out of Aragorn’s embrace and set his hands on the smooth ridges of the largest pumpkin he had ever seen. “Where ever did you find a pumpkin in Minas Tirith? I did not think they grew here!”
“There are hidden gardens in the City.”
Frodo snorted and cuffed Aragorn’s arm. “We shall discuss that another time and why I have not been brought to see them. But this!” His eyes widened with wonder. “This is the biggest pumpkin I’ve ever seen!” He laughed, running his hands again over the smooth skin. The stem was bigger than his hand. “My word! If only Sam could see this! We shall have to carve it.”
“Is that what you hobbits do? I had thought we would eat it, bake it into some sort of pie. I’ve had some in Bree. It had an unusual taste, but I rather liked it.”
Frodo sniffed. “Aragorn Elessar. With all the time you spent wandering in the Shire and in Bree, I should think you would know all about pumpkin carving.” He smiled and clutched Aragorn’s hand with both of his with sudden affection. “But truly. Thank you. I never thought I’d get to show Ellohir a real pumpkin.”
“You mentioned it a few years ago at about this time of year.”
“And you remembered?” Frodo asked, deeply touched. “You remembered and went out of your way to plant a pumpkin?”
Aragorn’s smile faded. “Not a day goes by when I do not wonder about keeping a hobbit here in this city of stone when I know how his feet long for soft earth and I know how his eyes thirst to see rolling green hills and apple trees.”
Frodo kissed Aragorn’s hand and held it to his cheek. “And not a day goes by when I don’t think that the Shire has many things that I miss, but it has no Aragorn.”
Just then Ellohir padded into the sitting room, his curly hair rumpled, rubbing his eyes. He startled fully awake when he saw the pumpkin. He froze.
“What’s that?” He looked worried.
Frodo smiled. “It’s a pumpkin. Come here, sweet pea.”
Ellohir ran to Frodo, his eyes wide with trust but still uncertain about the pumpkin. Frodo gathered Ellohir in his lap just in front of the pumpkin. He kissed Ellohir’s curly head before continuing. “See, darling, we have pumpkins in the Shire, and when fall comes and the air turns crisp and cold and the sky turns bright blue, all the leaves on the trees turn to the colors of jewels. And that’s when we take these pumpkins and carve faces in them.”
“Faces?” Ellohir said, twisting around and looking at Frodo. “Like silly faces?”
“More likely scary faces,” Frodo said. “They’re meant to scare the ghosts and spirits away…so they don’t steal little boys and girls away from their beds at night.”
“Oh.” Ellohir’s eyes widened, and he glanced at the window.
“But there are no ghosts and spirits here in Minas Tirith,” Frodo said, cringing. The last thing he wanted to deal with was Ellohir having a nightmare in the middle of the night.
“You jest, Frodo. Minas Tirith is full of spirits,” Aragorn said, but he stopped abruptly at Frodo’s warning glance.
“So we just carve faces for fun, really,” Frodo finished.
“What else do you do?” Ellohir asked, his eyes shining. To him, the Shire was a fairy land, full of wonder and things he might never see. He never tired of hearing about it and of course Frodo never tired of talking about it.
Frodo laughed and squeezed Ellohir tightly. “Apples, Ellohir! Imagine apples bobbing in a tub of water and hobbit boys and girls dipping their faces in, trying to snag one with their teeth!”
Ellohir laughed. “They’d get water in their faces!”
“Oh, and all over our costumes, too.”
“Costumes?”
“Oh, yes, Ellohir, costumes! Disguises. We would dress up as pirates or animals or dragons or Elves or anything we could think of. Bilbo always helped the children at Brandy Hall come up with the costume ideas. I was a Wood Elf one year. Another year I was a goblin. And then we’d have candy apples – dipped in sweet caramel. Not to mention the pumpkin pie.”
“Oh,” Ellohir said. “I want to go! I want a costume!”
“Someday, dear Ellohir.” Frodo’s heart sank because he did not know when he would ever feel well enough for such a long journey and when Aragorn would have the time to join them.
“You always say that.”
Frodo’s shoulders tensed as a wondrous idea hit him. “Ellohir! Aragorn! We should have a hobbit autumn party right here in Minas Tirith! Oh, the guard’s children would love it!”
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Aragorn said.
“A party!” Ellohir clapped. “Let’s have a party! And wear costumes!”
“What would you like to be, Ellohir?” Aragorn asked.
“A hobbit!”
Frodo laughed, kissing his curls again. “But you are a hobbit already! Think of something scary or silly.”
“I want to be a guard then.”
“That’s neither scary nor silly,” Aragorn said somewhat indignantly.
“But those hats they wear are silly!” Ellohir giggled.
“Oh, let him be a Guard of the Citadel,” Frodo said, laughing. “Surely we can find one of Faramir’s outfits from when he was a boy.”
“I believe Pippin was given that one during the War.”
“I know, but there must be another.”
Aragorn laughed. “We will have one made. Ellohir is far smaller than Faramir was as a boy.”
So word went out that the King was throwing a big gala such as happened each year in the faraway land of the Halflings. Children were especially invited, and they were to wear costumes. Tailors in Minas Tirith were ordered to drop everything and make costumes for the city’s children, and soon the Citadel fell into a flurry of party preparation. Frodo had a near miss when he was nearly run over by the bustling of excited cooks under his direction in the kitchen. They labored on pie shells, seedcake, and other hobbit dainties.
At last, the night before the big event arrived. Exhausted, Frodo sat in front of the pumpkin, holding Ellohir on his lap. Aragorn sat beside him, cross-legged. Before them rested the giant pumpkin.
They had a big decision to make.
“What sort of face shall we carve on it?” Frodo asked.
“A very scary one!” Ellohir giggled, covering his mouth. “Like a bear.” And he whispered in an awed voice, “Or a big, giant spider!”
“Perhaps an Orc,” Aragorn said, stroking his beard.
“Or Denhern,” Frodo whispered, and he and Aragorn laughed behind their hands, evoking a puzzled look from little Ellohir. Denhern was a guard of the Citadel who was perpetually surly and unfriendly to everyone.
But Ellohir did not miss a beat, and he said, “How about Alia when she’s in a bad mood. She can be very scary.”
Frodo ruffled Ellohir’s hair. “I suppose you do absolutely nothing to raise her ire, do you?”
“I’m always a good boy,” Ellohir said, folding his arms in front of him.
“Always?” Aragorn asked, raising his eyebrows.
“I am certain that Alia has many stories that prove otherwise,” Frodo said. “Hmmm…as for the pumpkin, I was thinking of Lobelia Sacksville-Baggins, my sour-faced cousin in the Shire that had Bag End while I was on the quest, but I suppose that wouldn’t be very kind of me. According to Sam, she turned out to not be so bad, after all, in the last years of her life.”
“What about Gandalf?” Aragorn asked.
Frodo and Aragorn looked at each other in sudden understanding. “Gimli!” they shouted at the same time before bursting into new laughter.
“Ah, but there are far too many choices,” Frodo said. “So let us just make a scary face and let it be who it wants to be.”
Aragorn carved the top of the pumpkin off. Then he looked up and smiled at Frodo and Ellohir. “All right, now you two get to do the dirty work.”
“Ha, do not look at me,” Frodo laughed. “I think this is a job for Ellohir. See, Ellohir, now you must dig all the gooey stuff from inside the pumpkin and put it in this bowl. Later we’ll make pumpkin pie out of it for the party.”
“Yay!” Ellohir shouted. “I get to get dirty!”
Frodo took off Ellohir’s shirt, and he dug into the pumpkin. Not long after, he was covered in orange slime, but all the goo and pumpkin seeds had made it safely in the bowl, leaving the pumpkin hollow and ready for carving.
“I will give him a bath,” Frodo said. “Now, Aragorn, let’s see what you come up with while we’re gone.” He winked at Aragorn.
Frodo drew Ellohir’s bath and he scrubbed all the pumpkin goo from him. After Frodo toweled Ellohir off and helped him into his nightshirt, Frodo noticed that Aragorn had blown out all the lanterns in the sitting room.
“Now what is he up to?” Frodo asked.
“Why is it dark?” Ellohir whispered, taking Frodo’s hand.
“I do not know,” Frodo said. “Let us see.”
Frodo and Ellohir came back into the sitting room. The enormous pumpkin with a very scary face flickering with fire gave Frodo’s heart a nasty start. Then he laughed.
But Ellohir screamed and wailed with terror, jumping up and down, clutching Frodo’s hand.
Aragorn scrambled to light the room again. “Look, Ellohir,” he said. “It is only our pumpkin. Do you see?”
“It’s scary,” Ellohir sobbed. “Scary!”
“Come now, Ellohir,” Frodo said, gathering the small boy in his arms. “It’s only a face that Aragorn made. Remember? You wanted him to make a scary face? And look -- he put a candle in there…that’s why it looks so frightening. Come, do you want to see?”
“But he’ll eat me!”
Frodo bit back his laughter. “I’m afraid it’s the other way around – it’s the pumpkin that we will be eating tomorrow.”
“It’s not real,” Aragorn added. “Come see.”
Frodo groaned. “He’s going to have nightmares. You shouldn’t have turned off the lights.”
“He’ll be all right after he learns about it,” Aragorn said. He swung Ellohir up in his arms and showed him the pumpkin. Ellohir’s blue eyes widened as he observed the candle inside the pumpkin.
“See?” Aragorn said. “Just a face with a candle inside. It can’t hurt you and it can’t eat you.”
Ellohir sniffed, and Aragorn wiped the tears from his cheek.
“All hobbit children have these in their homes,” Frodo said, knowing Ellohir’s desire to be as much like a hobbit child as possible.
“Did you?” Ellohir asked, his breath hitching. He touched the pumpkin with caution, as if he expected it to bite him.
“Oh, indeed I did. Bilbo used to come to Brandy Hall when I was a lad. Brandy Hall was where I lived with all my cousins and aunts and uncles. When Bilbo came, he would throw a big party for all of us, just like we’re going to have tomorrow, and we would carve pumpkins. Of course they were much smaller pumpkins than this one. We used to have a contest for who could carve the scariest face.”
“Did you ever win?” Aragorn asked.
Frodo laughed. “Never. Mine always just looked sad. Merry won a few times.”
“That surprises me not,” Aragorn said with a chuckle.
Ellohir giggled through his tears. “Silly pumpkin!” He slapped it. “Can’t hurt me.”
“That’s right,” Frodo said. “But now it’s time to go to bed because tomorrow’s the big day!”
Mercifully Ellohir slept well, with no nightmares in the middle of the night, and he woke up the next day so excited and wound up that Frodo hardly got anything done in preparation for the party. The little guard’s outfit looked darling on Ellohir. Ellohir tore around the room, swinging his paper sword at anything that moved. He ran to the pumpkin and slapped it. “See? Can’t hurt me! Attercop, attercop, down you drop!” Frodo laughed, marveling that Ellohir remembered the tale of Bilbo and the spiders in Mirkwood Forest.
The party bloomed into full life by sundown. The children of Minas Tirith, mostly children of the guards and other staff that worked for the King, were dressed in a variety of colorful costumes – animals, Elves, Orcs, and ghosts. Children bobbed for apples, candy was strewn on the ground to be collected, and pumpkin pie was eaten by all. The adults drank wine and feasted on dainties that most had never before tasted but quickly grew to love.
Frodo nudged Aragorn. They were sitting at the banquet table, watching the festivities. “Look at Ellohir.”
Ellohir, still dressed as a guard, had taken a special interest in a little girl with butterfly wings. He took her hand and led her around the Great Hall, showing her this and that and sometimes waving his sword at anyone who tried to come near them.
“Perhaps we have a future match for our Ellohir,” Frodo laughed.
Aragorn sipped his wine, raising his eyebrows. “I thought we were saving him for Faramir and Eowyn’s daughter.”
“True love cannot be denied,” Frodo said as Ellohir bowed and kissed the butterfly girl’s hand. The girl giggled and jumped up and down, and Frodo heard Ellohir say in a dignified imitation of Aragorn’s voice, “Come, dear lady, I shall show you the pumpkin that our King carved last night. And I must tell you that there is nothing to fear. It can’t hurt you or me and it won’t eat us.”
Frodo closed his eyes and lost himself in the sounds and smells of home – the candied apples, the pumpkin pie, the joyful laughter of children.
Aragorn clasped his hand, and Frodo opened his eyes. He met Aragorn’s loving gaze, and he knew then where home truly was.
Go on to next part