Goodnight, Frodo

By: Elemmírë

Summary: A fond childhood memory sparks Primula to continue the ritual. Frodo is 7 (age 4 ½ - 5 in Man years). Warning: Fluff ahead!

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings does not belong to me, nor am I making any profit off either its story or characters.

" ... and then finishing their blackberry jam, all the little bunnies gave Mother Bunny a kiss goodnight before hopping into their little beds. The End." Primula Baggins read.

"Sweet dreams little bunnies," her seven-year old son, Frodo said, tracing the brightly colored drawing of the three little bunnies snug in their beds on the last page of the book, before closing the back cover. "Read it again, Mama!" he begged, looking up pleadingly with his large blue eyes.

"Frodo," warned Drogo Baggins, moving from his seat on the settle to take the book from the little hands helping to hold it steady. "You've had two stories already tonight. Just like it's time for the little bunnies to go to sleep, it's time for little hobbit lads to go to sleep, too."

Primula shifted on the rocking chair that her husband had built when she was pregnant, cuddling her son closer to her. She tickled his ribs, making him squeal in laughter before finally releasing her hold on him. Frodo slid off his mother's soft lap only to be tackled next by his waiting father. Drogo grinned, scooping his son up into strong arms, tossing him up over his head a few times. Frodo's big blue eyes widened and he shrieked in delight, his nightshirt billowing around his little legs before his body came to rest safely against his father's broad chest.

"I love you, Da!" Frodo threw both of his arms around his father's neck, planting a kiss on one ruddy cheek.

Oh, how Drogo and Primula both enjoyed hearing those words from their son. They had both waited for so long to become parents, almost giving up hope, before they were finally blessed with the sweetest and most beautiful hobbit child in the whole of the Shire. Primula knew she nor her husband would ever tire of hearing those three simple words from Frodo.

"I love you, too." Drogo tweaked the lad's lightly freckled nose and gave him a wet, sloppy kiss on the cheek before setting him back down on his own two little furry feet. "Now, off to bed with you, Frodo-lad," he ordered.

With a bright smile, Frodo scampered off down the rounded hallway, trying not to trip on the long hem of his nightshirt. Primula, with lamp in hand, followed him and gave a smile herself as she watched him hop into his bed. She lit the candle in the sconce hanging on the wall by the door, before making sure the fire in the small hearth had already died out on this warm Summer night. Setting her own lamp down on the child-sized nightstand, she drew the bright blue curtains close over the round windows of the room, before sitting down on the edge of Frodo's small bed.

Primula gazed lovingly upon her only child, taking in every already-memorized feature of his sweet fair face. She ran a hand through his thick dark curls, still damp from his bath earlier that evening, before kissing him upon his brow.

She pulled the soft linen sheet and quilt up to Frodo's pale little chin, finding his stuffed toy bear for him to snuggle with. "Here's Beorn," she said, tucking the worn and tattered bear underneath the warm quilt with him.

Frodo immediately latched onto his favorite sleeping companion for protection during the night. His Uncle Bilbo had given it to him as a present on their same-day birthday when he had turned four years old; it was soft and Uncle Bilbo had said it had been made by the Dwarves from the hair of a real black bear, and it looked just like Beorn from his 'venture. Someday, he was going to have a 'venture too, just like Uncle Bilbo. Maybe he would bring his Beorn and show him to the real Beorn when he met him on his 'venture.

Eyes shining brightly, Frodo kissed his mother goodnight as she leaned over him. "Goodnight, Mama," he said.

Rising from the bed, Primula took her lamp in hand and slowly headed for the door. "Goodnight, stars," she said, deciding to play the game she sometimes did when putting her son to bed. She remembered her own mother doing this long ago with her when Primula had been tucked into her bed.

"Goodnight Moon ... goodnight windows ... goodnight bed ... goodnight blanket ... goodnight books ... goodnight toys ... goodnight clothes ... goodnight candle ... goodnight door ... goodnight smial ..."

Peering over his covers with Beorn, Frodo giggled. Mama could be so silly at times!

Primula stopped in the doorway, looking back over her shoulder. "Hmm, let's see, did I forget anything?" she mused thoughtfully. " ...Oh, yes! Goodnight, Beorn."

"What about me, Mama?" a little voice called out from the darkened room.

In her most loving voice, Primula replied, "Goodnight, Frodo. Sleep well and have pleasant dreams, sweetheart."

The End

Author's Note: Reminiscent of the popular childrens' book, "Goodnight, Moon," my mother would always read to me before bedtime and would often tuck me in using the same manner as Primula. The funny thing is she never read me "Goodnight Moon", but she often bade 'goodnight' to all of the things in my room, me last of all. I am glad to be able to capture this fond childhood memory of mine and share it via the hobbits.