linaewen: (B2MeM 2019 Bingo Participant)
Here is my first story for the 2019 Back to Middle-earth Bingo Challenge!

B2MeM Prompt, Card and Number: G48: "a character who's the same age you were when you first discovered Tolkien's Middle-earth" (Write What You Know), a mountain or mountains (Person vs. Nature); N42: a river (Person vs. Nature)
Format: Short Story
Genre: Childhood
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Characters: Frodo, Bilbo
Pairings: None
Creator’s Notes (optional): I was 12 when I met Frodo and Bilbo for the first time, and once I started reading their stories, I couldn't stop -- and I was never the same again!
Summary: Young Frodo loves listening to Cousin Bilbo's stories, especially when they are about mountains.

Dreaming of Mountains

Frodo stood at the edge of the group of hobbit children who were listening with wide eyes to the tales being told by Bilbo Baggins. Old Bilbo dropped in from time to time for a visit to the crowded Brandy Hall, saying he wanted to keep up his acquaintance with friends and relatives who lived there. Bilbo was a cousin of the Brandybuck's as well as related by marriage, and he was Frodo's very own cousin on his father's side, though he seemed more like an uncle than a cousin. Bilbo was welcomed by the Brandybucks as a member of the family, and was given all the courtesies due a well-to-do landowner from Hobbiton; but Frodo suspected that many of them thought his Cousin Bilbo to be a bit odd, but didn't want to say so out loud. Frodo was glad whenever he came to visit, especially since Bilbo usually made a point to speak to him, being that they were closely related on several levels. The hobbit lads and lasses sitting gathered around Bilbo didn't care who was related to whom, they just enjoyed the outlandish tales he told of dwarves and dragons and climbing mountains -- even though they probably didn't believe them to be actual adventures like Cousin Bilbo said they were. Frodo, on the other hand, loved the stories Bilbo told, and he felt sure they were true stories of Bilbo's own adventures. That's why he made sure to stay close to Bilbo whenever he visited, to be present when the stories began. He didn't want to miss a word, because he could never get enough of such tales.

It was the tales of mountains that drew Frodo; he had always wanted to see mountains. He wanted to know what it felt like to see a mountain on the horizon, to look up at the heights towering overhead, to climb the steep rocks and see what the flat land looked like from on high and far away. He dreamed of mountains sometimes, which made him feel like someday, maybe, he just might actually see one with his own eyes. So he hung on every word of every tale Cousin Bilbo told, and imagined himself going on adventures in the mountains in far distant lands.

Bilbo was not one to miss the eagerness with which the young hobbit listened. He could tell the difference between those who thought his tales fun but not true, and those who believed and wanted the same for themselves. He gestured to Frodo to come closer as the other hobbit children dispersed after an exciting but what they considered improbable story of riding barrels on a rushing river at the edge of a forest.

"Young Frodo, isn't it?" Bilbo said, patting the chair next to him, inviting Frodo to sit down. "Primula's boy, I believe."

"Yes, sir.  I'm Frodo, but you know that.  You talk to me every time you visit, because my parents were your closest relatives here, and that makes me your close relative, too."

"Hah, of course I know that!" Bilbo laughed.  "That's just my way of transitioning from story to conversation.  How old are you now, anyway, Frodo?"

"I'm twelve, sir, as of last September."

"That's right, we have the same birthday, don't we?  I told Drogo and Primula they should name you after me since you born on my birthday, but they didn't think that was a good idea.  Just as well, perhaps.  If you ever come to live in Hobbiton like a Baggins should, it wouldn't do to have two Bilbos, now, would it?  Too confusing for folks, I'd say!"

Frodo smiled and nodded, wondering what life would be like if he lived in Hobbiton instead of at Brandy Hall.

"How are you doing then, lad?" Bilbo asked kindly.  "I expect it's a question you get asked a lot these days, seeing as how your folks' passing is still so recent.  But I'm your close relative, and so it's my right to ask such things.  It's been on my mind a bit, to tell you the truth.  Are they taking good care of you here?  Do you need anything?"

"I'm doing fine, truly!" Frodo replied.  "It's good of you to ask, but don't worry.  I like it here, they're taking good care of me.  Maybe, though... it might be nice to visit you in Hobbiton someday..."

Bilbo smiled happily.  "I'll arrange it then, I promise!"

"Cousin Bilbo," he ventured after a short silence. "Was that a true story you just told about riding the barrels on the river? I know the others didn't really think it was true, but you told it like it really happened!"

"Yes, Frodo, that story was true. It was one of the adventures I had when I went off on my travels with the dwarves."

"I love stories about things like that, about rivers in places that are far away, and dark forests that are dangerous but you have to travel through them anyway. Some of the others think I'm silly to want to see a river and even travel on one, because of what happened to my parents out on the water -- but I don't see it like that for some reason. I think it would be very exciting to travel on a river, even if it isn't safe..."

"You're right, Frodo. It's not necessary to be afraid of things like rivers just because something bad happened to someone on the water. You just have to be careful, is all -- though it's hard to be careful when you're riding on a barrel, I must admit!"

Frodo laughed as his cousin gave him a big wink.

"You're also interested in mountains, I think," Bilbo said unexpectedly.

"How... how did you know?" Frodo stammered.

"You always get a far away look on your face when I tell tales that involve mountains. Don't imagine you've ever seen one, have you?"

"Only in my dreams! I'd dearly love to see one for real, and even climb on it, to see how far up I can go." Frodo stretched his legs out in front of him. "I've got some growing to do before I can go on long hikes, so I couldn't really handle a mountain at the moment -- but I do a lot of walking when I can, so I'll be ready for it when my chance comes!"

"That's good, Frodo," Bilbo replied. "Keep that up and you'll be ready to attempt mountain climbing in no time. Mountains truly are the most amazing things you could ever see, Frodo. But they're also one of the hardest things to experience in real life. When you get up close, you see how truly big they are, and when you climb one, you realize how small you are, and how much work it is to just put one foot in front of the other, going up and up..."

"But..." Frodo interrupted. "But if you can get to the top, what then? Isn't it worth the work to get there?"

"Is it worth it?" Bilbo cried. "You'd better believe it's worth it, Frodo my lad! There's nothing else like it, standing on the edge looking out over the world below -- even if it does make your heart leap to be up so high with nothing to keep you from falling! Let me tell you a story, a tale just for you, Frodo, about the first time I ever saw a mountain up close..."

Frodo leaned forward, listening enraptured to Bilbo's words that wove a tale of things the young hobbit had never seen before, and as he listened, Frodo knew he would never be the same again.

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Linaewen

February 2025

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