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My first fic ever! It's a wee Frodo story. Edited by shirebound. Thanks soooooooo much!!!!!
It’s a Ladybug
This is such a challenge. Frodo thinks hard while his eyes roam over the variety of shaped woods scattered about on the rug before him. His father gave all these to him yesterday, and until now the wee hobbit still has not been able to come up with anything he can proudly show his parents.
Frodo folds his legs beneath him and sits quietly on his heels. He might feel stiff and sore later on should he remain in the same position for long, but that does not concern him right now. The five year old is deep in thought, brow furrowed and lips pursed. He must come up with something. Anything. And he shall not give up. These wooden blocks, bars, triangles, and balls are too fascinating to just be abandoned .
The little hobbit’s eyes wander unconsciously as his mind is busy thinking. His hands are slowly rubbing the coarse fabric of the rug when all of a sudden one of them catches something that is not coarse at all. Frodo pulls his hand away impulsively, his eyes widening in a shocked, frightened look at a small, smooth thing.
The thing crawls!
Frodo jumps at once, scurrying to the kitchen.
“Mama! Mama!” His high shriek illustrates his panic. Frodo pushes the door open, making Primula, who is busy preparing lunch, jump in surprise.
“Frodo! What’s going on, dear?”
Panting and blushed, Frodo points his forefinger in the direction of the family room.
“There was - there was an animal! It’s small but fat. It’s brown and it has a lot of legs. It’s digusting!” Frodo’s face is contorted.
Curious as to what small but fat, brown, and having a lot of legs animal her son is talking about, Primula disposes of he r activity, stirring the soup, and strides out.
Frodo gazes at her back, doubtful whether he should follow his mother or stay. He decides the former, though with his heart pounding hard.
Frodo stares at how Primula stoops and scrutinizes the rug and the wooden toys Frodo was playing with.
And Primula’s eyes catch something.
The animal is still crawling and crawling, looking as though it is struggling to get away from the traps of the woolen weaving of the rug.
A smile breaks across Primula’s face. Even her eyes are smiling. She turns back and looks up at her son.
“Frodo baby, it’s only a ladybug. You need not fear it. Poor little thing,” she says toward the bug. “It’s desperate to get out of there.”
Primula reaches out and picks up the small poor bug, then puts it onto her palm. She gently shows it to Frodo, who can not help flinching a bit. Primula laughs softly.
“It is all right, Frodo. You see? It is neither disgusting nor harmful. It might look ugly to you at first, but can you see its uniqueness? It needs a lot of legs because it has to crawl on harsh terrain such as rocks and gravel. It needs a hard shell because it has no home with a roof under which it can stay.” Primula can see how Frodo still has his doubts. “Come, Frodo. Touch it. It will feel smooth on your finger tips.”
Hesitantly Frodo reaches for the bug and ever so slowly caresses it with his index finger. It does feel smooth! A small smile starts to break on his face and soon it turns to giggles.
“It tickles!” laughs Frodo, and he pulls back his finger. Primula smiles and nods.
“Now, let us find a new home for it, shall we?” Frodo nods -- everyone, even a bug, needs a home. Smiling, he takes his mother’s free hand as they start toward the door.
It’s a Ladybug
This is such a challenge. Frodo thinks hard while his eyes roam over the variety of shaped woods scattered about on the rug before him. His father gave all these to him yesterday, and until now the wee hobbit still has not been able to come up with anything he can proudly show his parents.
Frodo folds his legs beneath him and sits quietly on his heels. He might feel stiff and sore later on should he remain in the same position for long, but that does not concern him right now. The five year old is deep in thought, brow furrowed and lips pursed. He must come up with something. Anything. And he shall not give up. These wooden blocks, bars, triangles, and balls are too fascinating to just be abandoned .
The little hobbit’s eyes wander unconsciously as his mind is busy thinking. His hands are slowly rubbing the coarse fabric of the rug when all of a sudden one of them catches something that is not coarse at all. Frodo pulls his hand away impulsively, his eyes widening in a shocked, frightened look at a small, smooth thing.
The thing crawls!
Frodo jumps at once, scurrying to the kitchen.
“Mama! Mama!” His high shriek illustrates his panic. Frodo pushes the door open, making Primula, who is busy preparing lunch, jump in surprise.
“Frodo! What’s going on, dear?”
Panting and blushed, Frodo points his forefinger in the direction of the family room.
“There was - there was an animal! It’s small but fat. It’s brown and it has a lot of legs. It’s digusting!” Frodo’s face is contorted.
Curious as to what small but fat, brown, and having a lot of legs animal her son is talking about, Primula disposes of he r activity, stirring the soup, and strides out.
Frodo gazes at her back, doubtful whether he should follow his mother or stay. He decides the former, though with his heart pounding hard.
Frodo stares at how Primula stoops and scrutinizes the rug and the wooden toys Frodo was playing with.
And Primula’s eyes catch something.
The animal is still crawling and crawling, looking as though it is struggling to get away from the traps of the woolen weaving of the rug.
A smile breaks across Primula’s face. Even her eyes are smiling. She turns back and looks up at her son.
“Frodo baby, it’s only a ladybug. You need not fear it. Poor little thing,” she says toward the bug. “It’s desperate to get out of there.”
Primula reaches out and picks up the small poor bug, then puts it onto her palm. She gently shows it to Frodo, who can not help flinching a bit. Primula laughs softly.
“It is all right, Frodo. You see? It is neither disgusting nor harmful. It might look ugly to you at first, but can you see its uniqueness? It needs a lot of legs because it has to crawl on harsh terrain such as rocks and gravel. It needs a hard shell because it has no home with a roof under which it can stay.” Primula can see how Frodo still has his doubts. “Come, Frodo. Touch it. It will feel smooth on your finger tips.”
Hesitantly Frodo reaches for the bug and ever so slowly caresses it with his index finger. It does feel smooth! A small smile starts to break on his face and soon it turns to giggles.
“It tickles!” laughs Frodo, and he pulls back his finger. Primula smiles and nods.
“Now, let us find a new home for it, shall we?” Frodo nods -- everyone, even a bug, needs a home. Smiling, he takes his mother’s free hand as they start toward the door.