Summary: Bilbo explains to Frodo why there's no sex in The Lord of the Rings. Now, if we could only get our hands on the Blue Book!
Story Rating: Humor. Rated G. It has hobbits in it.
Disclaimer: These characters and Middle-Earth are the copyright of the Tolkien estate and this fan fiction is not meant to infringe on that copyright in any way.
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Frodo
and Bilbo sat together in Rivendell, leafing together through Bilbo's three
books of elvish lore. As Frodo's eyes ran swiftly over the pages, Bilbo nodded
and snored, then woke up abruptly.
"So,
what did you think of that poem, my boy?"
"It
was excellent, Bilbo - and the five poems after it."
"Oh
dear, asleep again. Time for dinner soon, surely. The Elves always laugh about
that."
Frodo
gnawed his lip. "There was just one thing, Bilbo."
"What,
what? Come now, out with it!"
The
younger hobbit patted the stack of books beside him. "It seems like some of
how the Elves truly act is...missing. Do they not, ah...aren't they really
rather..."
Bilbo
yanked his feet off the cushioned footstool and stomped them on the floor.
"Randier than hobbits in their tweens at the Lithe summer-dances? Of
course!" He tottered over to his desk, where scrolls and old tomes were
piled high. "Here it all is; Princess Mee, which you read,
really about two girls laying down together; The Lament of Turin for Beleg; an
essay by one Altariel of the Noldor, all about Ways of Love of the
Body. They've got more words I can't translate for activities I can't
imagine! You were travelling with an Elf --"
Frodo
slumped on his chair and groaned. "Don't let me begin, Bilbo. We were in
Lorien over two weeks, and Legolas only spent the night in our tents once! If I
told you what else he got up to, you'd never believe it."
Bilbo
snorted. "Since seven gossipy Elves have taken the trouble to tell me
already, and none of them can believe it either, I suppose it's true. Can't
think what he sees in a Dwarf. They're lusty enough, and I should know, having
travelled--"
"But,
Bilbo, why isn't it in any of your translations? Even if it is in the original
poems and tales?"
Bilbo
sighed, and left the pile of scrolls and slim volumes to poke up the fire.
"A lot of it I've translated directly, but the meaning doesn't come through
in the Common Tongue. "Her limbs were fair and free," to us that
sounds very pretty, but it means something altogether different to an Elf."
He
gazed into the fire. "And if I was just writing away for myself, lad, that
would be one thing. But these books are going with you. To the Shire. For
hobbits to read, so that they know" - Bilbo waved his hands - "about
what was, and what has faded, and how lucky they are, and how grand the Elves
and Dwarves were, and, well, all of that, really."
"And
you don't think their lusty side is part of it?"
"Perhaps
I'm a touch old-fashioned," Bilbo quavered, "but I want hobbits to
read these books - my books - for the right reasons. To understand the high
parts. They're simple folk, Frodo. And think of it from a hobbit's view,"
His eyes sharpened as he looked at Frodo under his brows. "Now, do you want
all those fine folk ruled by Aragorn to remember Hobbits by the big summer
Lithe-pole? By the trulls of the Green Dragon? By the song 'The Farmer And His
Favorite Sheep?'"
Frodo
looked down, chuckling. "Pippin sang that for the Fellowship once, in
Eregion, to cheer us all up. It's true the others never forgot it. Sam didn't
stop blushing for days."
"Well,
that shows you, then. I'm sure the Elves would rather be great and sad than
lusted over. Besides, us Bagginses are disreputable enough."
"All
right, Bilbo. I think it's very high-minded of you." Frodo's gaze deepened
into an uncanny look. "But if I take these books to the Shire, they will be
read longer than you could imagine, Bilbo. And some of the readers will think it
very strange."
"Hmm,
humpf. Well, let them. As long as they read. With both their hands on the books,
mind."
A
set of clear bells rang out. "Dinner! Save a good seat for me, Frodo-lad, I
must find my wrap and cane."
Bilbo
watched his nephew leave, then fondly picked up a leather book - a fourth one-
with blue covers. He opened it to the title-page. His own spidery handwriting
had picked out several titles: "Other Translations from the Elvish. Elvish
Ways of Love. Of How They Lay Down And What Happens After. Private Library of B.
Baggins."
"Not
half as high-minded as you think, my boy," he chuckled, and picked up his
walking-stick with a flourish.
Story
Notes:
"Princess
Mee" is a slightly obscure Tolkien poem about an elf-princess who
dances, night after night, with her reflection in a clear pool.
"Then
he gave Frodo his mithril-coat and Sting, forgetting that he had already
done so: and he gave him also three books of lore that he had made at
various times, written in his spidery hand, and labelled on their red backs:
Translations from the Elvish, by B.B." Return of the King, Book VI,
Chapter 6, Many Partings.
"Legolas
was away much among the Galadhrim, and after the first night he did not
sleep with the other companions..." Fellowship of the Ring, Book II,
Chapter 7, The Mirror of Galadriel.
A Note About This Story: This story is linked to an external archive. Most of Tyellas' current published works are adult Tolkien fanfiction. If you want to see more writing by Tyellas, I recommend that you go to the Varied Writing page below, which has Tyellas' genfic stories and miscellaneous slash. Please read the warnings!
Please
do not reproduce or repost this story without permission from the author. First
posted Dec. 28, 2001 at the Least Expected archive.
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