browngirl | That Certain Conversation (Bilbo and some of his young cousins, Gen, rated PG-ish)

Title: That Certain Conversation
Rating: PG for topic. Maybe PG-aught.
Pairing: None, really. And yet...
Characters: Bilbo, Frodo, Merry, Pippin, others discussed.
Summary: A conversation passed down through time.
Disclaimer: Hobbits all are the Professor's and none at all mine.
Author's Notes: Because I do TOO think about implications. This could count as het as much as it could as gen.
Dedication: to

illyria_novia, who asked for Frodo and Bilbo. The drabble, oh how it grew.

It was as pretty a day as Bilbo had ever seen, sunny and bright. He and Frodo had roamed far afield over rolling green hills perfumed with herbs and fringed with spring-blossoming trees, and they stood now by a copse of white-barked birches while Frodo examined their papery twigs and long slender leaves.

It was a lovely day, but there was a job to be done. "Frodo, my lad," Bilbo said, squaring his shoulders, "I've been meaning to discuss something with you." Frodo turned from poking at a bit of loose bark to regard Bilbo with widening, worried eyes. "We've needed to have this chat for awhile, I fear."

"Have I done something wrong?" Frodo asked; Bilbo shook his head vigorously, trying not to alarm him, but he found he just couldn't look quite at Frodo, and he could see the lad's frown deepening from the corner of his eye. It didn't help that Bilbo's own cheeks were burning as if he were the tween. "No, you're an excellent lad, always have been. It's just that, well, blast it, Bilbo, it needs to be done." He shook his head again, and forced himself to smile and finally to look straight at Frodo, reaching out to grasp his shoulder. "It's just that, well, you're a tweenager now, and a handsome one at that, not to mention being my heir gives you a certain position." By now, Bilbo was certain he was red as an apple, but Frodo looked at least confused rather than terrified, and he nodded. "I've seen recently, that, well...."

"....that lasses have begun to catch your eye," Frodo continued as steadily as he could, despite having had to pin Merry with an arm twisted behind his back to prevent his escape. "And would you rather have this talk with your Da? I could always tell him my concerns and let him address them."

That point hit home; Merry slumped in surrender and stopped clawing at the grass. "Can I let you up now?" Frodo asked; Merry nodded docilely, but couldn't help grumbling, "you could have let me up awhile ago," and when Frodo did release him he ostentatiously rubbed his wrist, though Frodo was sure he hadn't hurt the lad. Frodo's eyes widened till he saw Merry's smirk; with a matching one he planted an arm across him, pinning him down. "As I was saying. You're bright, you're handsome, you'll be Master of Buckland one day. There's many a lass who'd like to be Mistress of Buckland, who'll be making eyes and more at you."

"I know," Merry said with satisfaction. "Isn't it grand? I'll have to make them queue up and wait their turns." He grinned, and Frodo wanted to grin back and share his burgeoning cheer, but instead deliberately stared at him seriously enough to make that cheer fade into puzzlement. "Is that what you want, Merry?" Frodo asked, trying to hold the lad as much with his gaze as his arm, till Merry stared back with wide grey eyes. "A lass who sees only your position, and not you? Who doesn't love you, but only what you can give her?"

Merry heard that, at least, and shook his head, and Frodo nodded. "There is a lass for you, if you can wait for her, and not be already wed at pitchfork to someone you're not even fond of anymore by the time you meet the lass you might have loved."

Well, a Brandybuck might only heed so much at any given time. Frodo had more to say, but Merry gasped, "are you warning me off lasses, Frodo? Till I'm of age? That's over ten years, I can't---"

Oh, Merry. Frodo snickered, and shook his head. "Nor would I ask you to, Merry. I'm just asking...."

"....for you to be careful, Pip." Merry glanced over at Pippin, who lay there with arms behind his head, listening as if this were the most ordinary discussion a hobbit had ever had. "You must know by now how many other things there are to do of a tumble than the old in-out." Pippin shrugged, grinning ear to ear. "But it goes further than that. No matter how pretty and fluttery and fine she is, and some lasses are fine indeed, you need to try to keep your head a little."

"Don't I ever keep my head, Merry?" Pippin asked, eyes wide, and Merry snorted and laughed. "It's a wonder it doesn't roll off down the hill, Pippin. And this is important. Are you listening?"

"I'm listening," Pippin said, fixing Merry with the full gaze of those green eyes, and Merry found himself suddenly without words. He needed to say something, after all. "Um. Try for a lass who likes what you like. Take her tree-climbing; I've always found that lasses who like climbing trees have a little spirit and don't care overmuch for appearances."

Pippin nodded again, relaxed as ever. Merry recalled how Frodo had had to literally hold him down for this particular chat, and shook his head. "Just.... have a care, keep an eye out for the lass who wants your position and not you." And how might he tell? Advise him, you daft Brandybuck. "A good lass to ask would be Vinca, one devious lass knows another."

Pippin nodded thoughtfully. "Besides, she can probably give me pointers. "

Merry shook his head again. Tooks. They would be the death of him, surely. "I don't know who's wilder, Pippin, you or that sister of yours. Just.... just be careful, lad, because it wouldn't do for the Thain's heir to be wed at pitchfork."

Pippin thought on this a moment, then said, "So, can we go back for tea now? I heard rumors of jam tarts." He grinned, and Merry helplessly, fondly grinned back. "I'll race you," he said, and Pippin was off like an arrow, and he ran after Pippin all the way back to the Hall.

Current Mood: cheerful

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

shirebound

What a wonderful progression! Each generation has to look out for the next, doesn't it? And that tidbit of advice being passed along is valuable for anyone, not just well-off hobbits.

:D

From:

That Certain Conversation (Bilbo and some of his young cousins, Gen, rated PG-ish)

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