Frodo Baggins was decided.
preferred the gentle round collars that were not just the fashion in
the Shire, but really the only style of shirting in all of the
Farthings, be the wearer of gentle birth, or a member of the
Which was not to say that Frodo was
averse to change. No, he rather liked change, especially when it
with the comforting provision that one might always change back.
so it was that he admired himself (and that was a change, as well,
never was he one apt to vain display) in the burnished
brass of what
passed as the smial's only mirror.
dark as to be almost as one with the midnight sky had been tamed from
curls to quiet-tude, lay flat and straight (and short, very short)
against his skull. The ends, which usually curled and
tickled at his
nape, squared there, instead, just touching.....
a stiffened, up-raised collar, whose forefront ended in points.....
which fell over other points, and those were the......(Frodo paused,
searched for the word.....more mind-twisting than Elvish, these
yes, those were the lapels of the coat he wore.
And the breeks......
He corrected himself:
full to the floor, they were, falling tight and without buttons
from hip to ankle.
His good hobbit feet were still there, though, riotous
midnight curls curving sinuous against the hem of
he really did prefer the
round collars, and his sensible hobbit
breeks with their sensible silver buttons, and his
lovely autumn-harvest waistcoat, there were meritorius points
The stark, stars-washed-with-milk-kissed-by-snow of it
brought out his eyes.
was almost a pity, really, that hobbits had no hair on their
men do. It would have contrasted nicely with the several gold
that depended from his neck. But then, he reasoned, said hair
also have become entangled in said chains (he'd had that problem on the
Quest, hadn't he, and lost many a lock of his too-long coif
perilous necklace) and that
would be most distressing.
No, it was better thus.....it was.......perfect, thus.....
And Master Frodo Baggins, of the Third and Fourth Ages of Middle
Earth, stood quite still, absently taking in the quite
startling details of his unique ensemble.......
was, he matter-of-factly decided (with no nod to arrogance, for
fact of it was obvious, and Frodo was, in some ways, a pragmatist of
the first water), a Vision in White.
(his right foot pivoted neatly in four-beat
syncopation, left arm arcing star-wards, right in severe
a Dancing Machine.
Gamgee, Gardener and Friend Extraordinaire, chose that moment to enter
the smial. Sam, who had seen Frodo at his worst (or so he
while later, Frodo awoke, strangely abed in the middle of the day, and
with an equally strange knot adorning his head. Had he fallen,
He chalked it up to The Anniversary Illness and kept to his study
for the greater part of the day.
Samwise kept to the back garden, feeding the compost heap with the
ashed remnants of the Wonderful Ice Cream