mayhap: hennaed hands, writing (Default)
mayhap ([personal profile] mayhap) wrote2003-09-07 04:56 am

LOTR ficlet: "Knowing"

So, I wrote this little Lord of the Rings ficlet. Never mind I've not read much in that fandom in the past year, and I think I read exclusively smut, which this is not. At all. Oh well.

Title: Knowing
Rating: G (yeah, G)
Other things you might want to know: 2nd person narration, Frodo/Sam apologetics, more book canon than movie canon



You didn’t need to be told to love Frodo, anymore than you needed to be told that cool green grass feels good between your toes or that sizzling bacon smells good in the morning or that great big trees look good against the sunny sky. You’d never known anyone who loved the gentlefolk they did for, but then none of them did for Mr. Frodo, did they? Surely anyone who knew him like you knew him, knew his pipes and his waistcoats and his eyes when he told stories, would have loved him as well.

You didn’t want to hear it when the Gaffer took you aside and told you that he was hoping to have the pleasure of attending your wedding before the end of his days. You told him that you’d thought it over but it didn’t seem quite proper while Mr. Frodo was still a bachelor, and he gave you a queer look and quaffed another draught. You said you’d think it over, but you really meant that you were going to shove it to the very back of your mind and go on with things how they were because you didn’t want to upset the balance of your happy, busy days and your peaceful nights.

You didn’t know the meaning of change then, because you hadn’t turned the world around you on its head. You hadn’t been a conspirator, or a poet, or a hero—perish the thought—then, because Frodo hadn’t needed you to be those things. You’d never been a lover, either, because Frodo hadn’t needed you to be that; and if it wasn’t for Frodo, it wasn’t for you to give yourself over to, mind and body and spirit, because all those bits of you had already been taken. But maybe he had, and you were, because no one else ever held him or kissed him as you did, in those moments when you knew, without a doubt, that not even the rest of the world put together held a candle to him.


You didn’t need to be told. You didn’t need to understand. You just knew.