Sewn with Love

By: Elemmírë

Series: Lord of the Rings

Summary: Esmeralda attempts to help a heartbroken Frodo cope through the stages of grief.

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

Author's Note: This was the second LOTR tale I penned and also my very first multi-chaptered LOTR fic. I chose not to post it until now, however, because of the time of year much of the tale takes place in.

When I posted 'Extreme Makeovers: Bag End Edition,' I had made reference to Frodo's "special blanket" in chapter 9 and alluded to an upcoming tale concerning its origins. This is that tale. I hope everyone enjoys! This tale takes place 4½ months after 'On a Moonlit Night.' Angst & hankie warning given.

Esmeralda is 44, Saradoc is 40, & Bilbo is 90 (ages 27½, 25½, & 58 in Man years). Frodo is 12 (age 7½ in Man years).

Esmeralda Brandybuck sighed as she entered what was now her sewing area located in the far corner of the sitting room. What a day it had been! Normally on this day, she and her husband’s family would be in Hobbiton to celebrate their cousin Bilbo Baggins’ birthday. Twelve years ago the Bagginses, Tooks, and Brandybucks had been blessed with another reason to celebrate as well, for it was also the birth date of another of their cousins. Frodo Baggins had been born to her husband’s Aunt Primula and Uncle Drogo, making him Saradoc’s youngest first cousin. Frodo was her cousin as well, through their shared Took ancestry. Esmeralda didn’t know who had been more happy with the long-awaited birth of Frodo ... his parents, or Bilbo. Drogo Baggins and his wife, Primula Brandybuck, had been the old hobbit's most favorite of relations ... until the arrival of their long-awaited son that is. Ever since, Bilbo had hosted a huge party every year for his and his 'nephew’s' shared birthday.

This year however, was the first in which Bilbo had not hosted a party for the two Bagginses' same-day birthdays. For this year was different; it was the first birthday Frodo would celebrate since his parents’ tragic deaths earlier that Spring. The unfortunate lad was turning twelve and Bilbo was going to be ninety--a very respectable age for a hobbit.

One lovely evening during one of their frequent stays in Buckland, Primula and Drogo Baggins had kissed their little son goodnight, left him in the care of Esmeralda and Saradoc, and had gone off for a romantic, late evening stroll together.

They never came back.

In the early hours of that fateful morning, a pair of fisher-hobbits from Standelf had first come across the body of a gentlehobbit floating facedown, apparently having drowned in the Brandywine River far downstream from Brandy Hall. On their way to the Hall with the recovered body, those same hobbits had happened upon one of the Brandybucks' boats, mysteriously overturned in the calm waters with nary a scratch upon its brightly painted hull. The Master had been awakened and had received the shock of his life to learn that the deceased hobbit was none other than his brother-in-law, Drogo Baggins.

A search party had commenced and late that morning, the body of Primula had been discovered as well, having washed up on the opposite riverbank. Their bodies had been covered with cuts and bruises and had been ice-cold and swollen from the water; their lips blue. Speculations and rumors would abound for years on end, but it would forever remain a mystery as to what had really happened that fateful night.

Needless to say, little Frodo Baggins had been beside himself and was deeply distraught with grief--his short life in sudden upheaval. The newly minted orphan was effectively stranded at Brandy Hall and having no children of their own yet, Saradoc and Esmeralda had volunteered to continue taking care of the child. It was discussed with Frodo’s closest relations and if the Brandybucks were willing, then the Bagginses agreed, feeling that Brandy Hall would be the best place for Frodo to be cared for at this point in his young life. After all, his Aunt Dora had felt she was getting too old to be able to keep up with the lad; his Uncle Dudo already had a daughter nearly of age, was tending his ill wife, and had felt he lived too far away from the rest of Frodo’s immediate relations; and Bilbo ... Bilbo had seriously considered taking the lad to live with him at Bag End, but he had felt that for now, Frodo would benefit from being around Esmeralda and the other hobbit lasses and numerous children to be found at the Hall; not to mention the fact that Bilbo still rather enjoyed wandering around both in and occasionally out of the Shire as well.

As head of the Baggins family, Bilbo now legally maintained primary guardianship over Frodo, but had relinquished the right to foster him to the Brandybucks, with the agreement that Frodo be allowed to visit him at Bag End or any of his other Baggins relations as often as he liked. Bilbo had been quite firm that he would not have the lad grow up without knowing more of his father's heritage, although no other member of the dwindling family name had ever volunteered to take on the orphan either.

No, this year’s same-day birthdays were very different indeed, Esmeralda thought as she proceeded to light a fire in the small fireplace of the sitting room to ward of the coming Autumn chill. Although many at Brandy Hall--including herself and Saradoc--thought the birthday party would do little Frodo a world of good, Bilbo had put his furry foot down, stating that he did not feel it right to have a joyous party of gigantic proportions so soon this sad year. Bilbo wanted nothing more than for Frodo to be happy, but he'd also realized that the now-orphaned child was still wallowing too deep in grief to celebrate anything momentous, such as his own birthday, this year.

Instead the elderly, but spry, hobbit invited himself to Brandy Hall and arranged for a very small, quiet get-together of Frodo’s closest relatives and few Buckland friends. The gathering had started off rather well; young Frodo had appeared to be enjoying himself as well as he could, given his unfortunate situation. Esmeralda had observed that he seemed to eat a little more without being cajoled; talk a little more; and even give a small, shy smile every now and then while in Bilbo’s presence. Esmeralda had marveled at how Bilbo, esteemed bachelor for his entire life, always seemed to know how to handle Frodo’s moods and melancholy when no one else could seem to get through to the little one.

Things had started going downhill when some of Frodo’s older teen and tweenage cousins had caught wind of the small gathering and decided to join in, knowing it to be a birthday celebration. The teens, especially, couldn’t understand why Frodo hadn’t invited them and had wondered where all the birthday mathoms were being stashed, for surly there were presents for all. Esmeralda, Saradoc, and even Bilbo had offered to take the lad shopping at the market to buy gifts or to look through the various mathom rooms with him, but Frodo simply hadn’t wanted to this year. His heart was not in it really and the hobbit child had shown no interest in his birthday at all until he had been told about Bilbo’s visit.

The tension at the gathering had escalated while the adults were busy with something or other. Some of the uninvited teens had turned surly, having begun to demand to know where their presents were and why the birthday cake was so small. Poor Frodo had stammered, trying to explain to his cousins that he didn’t have any presents to give out this year, (save three to Bilbo, Saradoc, and Esmeralda), but the young hobbits had refused to listen and had begun to taunt him, physically backing the much smaller birthday lad into a corner of the room.

A couple of the more mature tweenagers had tried to mediate on Frodo's behalf, but nothing but arguments and verbal assaults had ensued, resulting in Frodo running away in tears. Rorimac, Frodo’s uncle and the current Master of Buckland, had been forced to interfere and had chastised them all for their unacceptable rude and deplorable behavior. They were all old enough to know better than to attend a party uninvited and to squabble over gifts and cake like a bunch of overly-spoiled faunts. The Master of the Hall had been quick to dole out a suitable punishment for the recalcitrant teens and tweens, amongst which included an apology first and foremost to his nephew, but also to Bilbo, whose birthday it was as well.

While Esmeralda and her mother-in-law, Menegilda, had quietly thanked and disbanded the small gathering of invited hobbits, Bilbo and Saradoc had searched desperately for Frodo. Bilbo had finally found the distraught boy outside curled up by the Brandywine River, sobbing his heart out. In his little fingers was clenched the birthday present for his parents. It was a family picture he had drawn very early that morning, when he had been unable to sleep due to yet another nightmare.

Frodo had whimpered and had once again wanted to know why his parents had to die and leave him? ... Did he do something bad that made them go away? ... Why couldn’t he go too? ... Didn’t Mama and Da love him anymore? ... Why did they have to go away forever? ... Why couldn’t they ever come back?

Frodo had cried so hard that he wound up making himself sick and Bilbo had carried the small lad back inside; the crumpled up picture lying forgotten by the Brandywine River until a breeze whisked it over the bank, where it had floated momentarily before sinking beneath the water, just as the real hobbits it portrayed had suffered that Spring.

While Saradoc had prepared a calming tea mixed with a mild sleeping draught (as directed by the healer for times like this), Esmeralda had helped Bilbo to bathe Frodo and put him to bed. The three adult hobbits had once again found themselves frustrated that their ministrations and assurances were for naught and that their words sounded so trivial to their own ears. For young Frodo did not appear to understand any better now then when his parents' had died 4½ months earlier. His grief remained inconsolable and his melancholy only grew, instead of diminishing with Time.

Having left a stuporous Frodo in the care of his Uncle Bilbo, Esmeralda now sat herself down on the large plush chair in her small sewing area (her old sewing room now being Frodo's bedroom). She could hear the elderly hobbit’s deep voice soothing the distraught and hysterical lad, telling him a beloved tale from his Adventure with Gandalf the Wizard and the Dwarves. The tale of Bilbo’s Adventure was one of the few familiarities Frodo had left in his life now. If only the supposed wizard had power enough to bring back Drogo and Primula, Esmeralda thought sadly. If only it were that simple to utter a magical spell and make Frodo happy again.

She sighed, now wondering if even the small birthday gathering had been a good idea after all. She, like all of Frodo’s relations at Brandy Hall, simply wanted him to find his peace and happiness again. Hobbits were a very resilient people who normally bounced back into their age-old routines with great ease after tragedy, taking comfort and finding delight in the Shire and the other hobbits around them. It was easy to see that Frodo, however, was not coping very well at all with his new lot in life.

It was now months after the tragic accident and Frodo continued to have nightmares, often waking in the middle of the night screaming. He ate very little and spoke even less, despite her and her husband’s best efforts to engage the small lad in well ... anything; he also refused to speak of his parents at all to them, keeping his feelings bottled up inside. Unlike most of the other hundreds of their relations who were too busy with their own families and lives, she and Saradoc were willing to give the child as much time and patience as he needed. As they were now suddenly learning how to be parents, they wanted to desperately fill the void in Frodo’s life as he in turn filled their own childless void. Having Frodo around, even as despondent and sad as he was, made them want to strive to have a family of their own even more ... for they loved him so, as if he truly were of their own making.

After the funeral for Frodo’s parents, Bilbo, Dora and Dudo Baggins, Rorimac, Saradoc, and herself had taken Frodo to his smial in Hobbiton, the village where nearly all of the remaining Baggins family resided. They had all gone to help empty the now uninhabited smial of all its belongings before Bilbo either rented or sold it to a new family. They also gone to collect Frodo’s things that were to be moved into his new home at Brandy Hall.

One of the large mathom rooms at Brandy Hall had been emptied of its previous contents to make way for much of the larger pieces of furniture that had belonged to Drogo and Primula. There, it had been decided that they would be stored until given to the lad when he was older, as he was the sole heir of all his parents' worldly possessions. After packing the rest of his own clothing and toys, Frodo had been allowed to go through his parents’ effects and pick out whatever he wished to keep. If he was undecided over an item, it too went into storage for him until he was able to decide at a later date. It had been a very long day and a very emotional one for all concerned, but most especially for young Frodo. By the end of the day he had become highly cranky and irritable and though he was an extremely bright lad, Esmeralda had found herself wondering if he really understood the enormity and consequences of what was going on and on what level did he perceive them?

Frodo, however, had found himself understanding all too well. Watching much of his parents' furniture being carried out and placed into the waiting carts had been the final blow to him. He now knew without a doubt, that he was never coming back to what had always been his home ever again. That his parents were never coming back to him. It was a concept he would continue to struggle with and find unfathomable for a very, very long time.

When it had been time to leave for the night, Bilbo, Dora, and herself had found the lad in his parents’ room, curled up on the big bed (which was to be removed on the 'morrow) and nestled amongst the piles of clothes sorted there. He had been clutching one of his mother’s skirts to his face, and a tear had trailed down his pale cheek every now and then. He had absolutely refused to leave. When reasoning with him and even bribing him had failed, Bilbo had been forced to pick the lad up and carry him outside to one of the waiting pony carts. Frodo had shrieked and screamed, pounding his tiny fists against his uncle’s chest the entire way, howling that he wanted his Mama and Da. Esmeralda and Bilbo had looked at one another, each clearly seeing the unshed tears in the other’s eyes.

The sight of Frodo nestled amongst his dead parents’ clothes, clutching them dearly as if they could somehow bring his dear mother and father back, had broken Esmeralda’s heart. She had vowed to do something with those clothes other than just getting rid of them or giving them all away. She had spoken of her desire to Dora Baggins while they had all stayed at Bag End that night. It seemed that Dora had had a similar thought and showed Esmeralda the small bundle she had found carefully hidden away in the top drawer of a wooden chest belonging to Primula.

The elder spinster hobbit had unwrapped the bundle revealing the beginnings of a quilt. “Primula was hoping to finish this in time for Yule to give to Frodo,” she had said. “It was going to be the first quilt she ever made and she wanted to use all different shades of blue to match his eyes. Drogo used to tease her that she was making their son a new security blanket.”

Esmeralda had smiled in fond remembrance. After Frodo was born he had been wrapped in a soft blanket--a special gift courtesy of Bilbo, as family head, on the lad's Naming Day. The blanket was a beautiful shade of deep blue with leaves and swirls embroidered about the border in a paler shade of blue. Stitched in a shiny silver thread in the middle of the blanket, were three stars--two were of the same size, but the third star was smaller and set in between the larger stars. The scrolled outline of a golden heart surrounded the three silver stars, which symbolized the new family. Bilbo had said that the blanket came from the Elves and that the shade of blue used, matched the color of the Sea. Primula had loved the blanket because it matched her son’s eyes, a very rare color for a hobbit to have.

As an infant and faunt, Frodo could not be found without his special Elvish blanket and thankfully the material never seemed to take any abuse for the wear and tear that the wee lad had put it through. It went everywhere that he went until he was about eight or nine years old and then it lay folded neatly at the end of his bed (although, along with Beorn the Bear, it had always managed to find its way into Frodo's small travel pack whenever the family visited Brandy Hall). While helping Frodo to pack his belongings, Esmeralda had noticed that the blue blanket was one of the first things Frodo had taken from his own room and she knew he was currently wrapped up in its softness on the big bed, in what used to be Bilbo's own childhood room at Bag End. She remembered herself wondering just how Drogo and Primula had gotten their stubborn son to leave the treasured item behind on what was now their last visit to Buckland ... although he had brought his stuffed toy bear along ... only to sleep with at night, of course.

Fingering the material that Dora had found tucked away, the two hobbitess' had agreed that they should finish what Primula had started. The beginnings of Primula's quilt were set aside for safekeeping.

The next day when everyone else had returned to the smial, Frodo had been purposely left behind at Number Three Bagshot Row in the care of the Gamgee family of which the Gaffer worked for Bilbo, tending Bag End's magnificent gardens. It was the hope of the adults that Frodo would perhaps find some enjoyment playing with the Gaffer's two lads who were near or at his own age there, or even the younger lasses ... or possibly even take an interest in the new baby, Samwise.

Esmeralda and Dora had shared their burgeoning idea with the others and they had all spent the morning further separating all the clothing, creating a new pile to be used specifically for the quilt. At Rorimac’s suggestion, they had all picked out garments that would hold memories of his parents for Frodo. They had also picked out a few things that would hold stories that could be shared with the lad by his family--stories that happened long before he had been born, for Drogo and Primula had been married for many years before they were blessed with the birth of their only child. Bilbo and Dora had taken much of Drogo’s clothing to sort through at a later date. They had told Esmeralda that they would prepare the squares of material and bring them to Buckland when it was time to assemble the quilt. They had all agreed to have the quilt finished in time for Yule as Primula had originally wanted (according to Dora), and they planned to give it to Frodo on the first day of Yule.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Esmeralda now pulled a heavy basket laden with clothing towards her, opening its lid. The basket contained Primula’s many skirts and dresses. She decided that today was as good a day as any to start the project.

An hour later Bilbo found her in the little sewing corner, cutting out squares of fabric for what would become Frodo’s quilt. He recognized the faded yellow fabric with the pale green trim, as being the dress Primula had worn the night Drogo had asked Uncle Gorbadoc for permission to court his youngest daughter.

“Is Frodo asleep?” Esmeralda asked softly, already knowing the answer. Bilbo would never have left the lad if he weren’t.

“Yes, although he fought the sleeping draught Saradoc put in his tea all the way. Stubborn Baggins,” Bilbo replied, fingering the material Esmeralda held in her lap, lost in his own

now-wistful memories of the once happy and loving hobbit couple.

Esmeralda stopped her cutting and looked up at the old hobbit. “Do you think he will understand, Bilbo? Do you really think Frodo will like this?”

Bilbo placed a reassuring, permanently ink-stained hand on her shoulder. “He will love it, Esme. Frodo is a spirited lad and always has been. He just needs to find his spirit again is all. We just have to be patient and give him all the Time and Love he needs right now."

Grateful for the old hobbit's wise and encouraging words, Esmeralda nodded her head as she bent to the task at hand. Two hours later and with Bilbo's help, she finished cutting the material and after threading a needle, began carefully stitching a square cut from one of Primula’s dresses to another. Saradoc had joined them and offering Bilbo some Longbottom Leaf, the two gentlehobbits sat back with their pipes and quietly watched her work.

* * * * *