She sighed, pulling her blanket closer and nestling deeper into the pillows. Yet she still had the feeling that something was amiss. She blinked and realised that the door to her room was open and the shadow of a small figure stood in front of it, clutching the knob with both hands.
“Frodo?” she whispered sleepily and lifted her head. “What is it?”
The young hobbit did not answer, but closed the door behind him and slowly approached his mother’s bed, his feet making soft pattering noises. He had his face cast down and only risked an occasional glance at his mother.
Primula blinked away the sleep in her eyes as she sat up looking at her son. The pale moonlight gave just enough light to see shimmering lines on her son’s chubby cheeks -- as if he had been crying. Primula was fully awake in an instant and, casting away the blanket that still covered her, she kneeled down in front of her son to look at him more closely. “Frodo, dear, have you been crying?” she asked, concerned, although she knew the answer when her fingers stroked her son’s wet cheek. “Are you in pain?”
Frodo shook his head. A look of embarrassment crossed his face as he turned his head and blushed. His toes were drawing circles on the wooden floor.
Primula was relieved to see that her son was neither ill nor injured, but she needed to know what had caused him distress. She sat back on the bed, a loving yet expectant look in her eyes. “What disturbed you, dear?”
Frodo risked yet another short glance in his mother’s direction. “You said I should not do it again. And I did not do it...,” he explained sheepishly, “I did not want to do it. It was... just there when I woke up.”
Primula frowned, puzzled. “What was there?”
Frodo turned away from her gaze again, blushing even more and mumbling something Primula could not make out.
Suddenly a smile crossed Primula’s face as she guessed the answer to the riddle her little son had set her. “You wet your bed,” she said, and her son nodded shyly. Primula smiled and reached out her hand to lift her son onto her lap. “That’s no reason for crying, Frodo, dear.”
“But,” Frodo murmured, looking at her questioningly, “it’s all wet now.”
“Yes, and we will look to that in the morning,” she assured him, gentle fingers stroking his cheeks. “Now, let us get some sleep.”
Frodo smiled from one ear to the other as his mother pulled him into her bed. Contently he curled up under the still-warm blanket and snuggled close to his mother, breathing in her scent which was a mixture of primroses, apple-pie and other comforting things.
Primula wrapped her arms around her child, placing a kiss on his dark curls. She felt his soft breath tickling her neck as she closed her eyes, still smiling a little. She had almost drifted back to sleep when she heard her son’s small voice. “Mummy, I’m hungry.”
“You did have your bedtime treat only some hours back, dear,” she mumbled. “You can’t be that hungry. Just sleep now and you will enjoy a proper breakfast in the morning.”
It was quiet for some moments, but Frodo wasn’t satisfied yet. “Can hobbits die of hunger?” he mumbled curiously.
“You won’t starve, Frodo.”
“What does starve mean?”
“If someone dies of hunger it is called starving,” Primula explained.
“So you can die of hunger,” reasoned Frodo. “What makes you so sure that I won’t starve?”
Primula sighed. “It is past midnight. You must be tired.”
“I am, but I’m also hungry.” Frodo’s stomach grumbled as if to prove his statement.
Primula opened one eye to look into her son’s huge, pleading eyes. Realising that she would not find any sleep until he was satisfied, she sat up.
Frodo sat up, too, flinging his arms across his mother’s waist and resting his head on her belly.
Primula stroked his curls sleepily, wondering what her son was up to now. He had his eyes closed and for a moment she thought he had fallen asleep, but then he mumbled. “I don’t think I’m that hungry. Besides you are tired and should get some sleep.”
She raised an eyebrow, as he turned his head to look into her eyes a smile brightening his face. Tousling his dark curls, she shook her head. “I won’t get up a second time.”
“You won’t have to,” mumbled Frodo his eyes falling close as he lay back in his parents’ bed, pulling his mother with him. He curled up against her, and sighed contently as her warm arms embraced him once again.
Yawning, Primula closed her eyes again, and she was drifting slowly towards the edges of sleep, when again her son’s mumbled voice reached her ear. “Mummy?”
A smile crossed her lips and she placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “Good night, dear.”
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.