Chapter Text
Pippin stepped into the parlour with a skip and a bright smile. Despite her cheerful appearance she was obviously nervous and trying to cover it up with bright smiles and coquettishly swishing fabric back and forth. Merry who had been bent over the hearth, building a fire, turned fully towards her, straightening his back, paying her his full attention. She twirled and curtsied, her skirts flaring.
“Pip!” Frodo exclaimed, a little drowsily but full of delight. “You look so lovely!”
“Thank you kindly!” Pippin replied, sounding confident but blushing.
She gave another twirl and glanced at Merry.
“A very beautiful dress on a more beautiful hobbit.” Merry smiled. “All the lads will be chasing after it.”
Pippin sighed and walked over to the couch, where Sam and Frodo were sitting. Frodo’s legs were in Sam’s lap and he was reclined on soft cushions. He watched Pippin join them with droopy eyes and a soft smile.
“Well, maybe… Though that’s sweet of you to say. But the only lads I want after my skirts are right here, you know that.” Pippin fluffed her skirts once more, delighting in the feel of the dress on her, and sat down next to Sam.
Fatty, who was smoking his pipe in a plush armchair near the fire coughed and cleared his throat, examining his pipe. The others noted with delight how red his cheeks were.
“Well, Pippin, my sweet young lass,” He spoke in that way he had when he was embarrassed, his voice gruff and his language borrowed from the older hobbits of his family. “I would be sure to be making to chase you, or rather court you, with how proper you look. Not that you are. Proper, that is. And not that I have any need of chasing your skirts, when you hardly need encouragement to flip them up for me.”
Pippin’s mouth dropped open and Frodo barked a laugh, quickly smothering it with his hand and dragging Sam’s with it who had linked their fingers.
Fatty was not looking at any of them, continuing to examine his pipe and stuffing it anew, but a smile tugged at his lips and he was fighting it valiantly.
“Fatty, you indecent old thing.” Pippin said with mock affront. “How dare you suggest that I flip up my skirts for anyone. They’d be in too much danger of getting dirty that way. And with me still wearing a dress, how will you get at my tits, hm?”
Frodo couldn’t help the laughter rolling out of him anymore and Sam chuckled along with him. Merry, grinning, shook his head and turned to finish stuffing kindling between the logs. Fatty had succeeded in relighting his pipe and smiled at Pippin.
“In all seriousness though, that dress suits you wonderfully and I love seeing you in it as much as I love seeing you out of it.”
“Well, thank you.” Pippin said, tipping her head gracefully. “Maybe I’ll wear it out to the spring dances. I thought about putting it on for Yule but i don’t feel quite up to it yet…” She trailed off, running her fingers along the stitching of leaves and bright flowers on her skirt thoughtfully. Sam’s hand joined hers, feeling the fabric and running a broad, gentle hand along her thighs. Pippin cast him a warm smile.
“I thought your family was being kind about this.” Sam asked quietly.
Pippin shrugged. “My grandmother is and she holds a lot of sway. And my parents love me, of course, even if they get a little confused sometimes. I’m only… wary… of some of my cousins when everyone is in their cups. Which is silly, of course. What could they ever do to me?”
Sam frowned unhappily and put his hand over one of Pippin’s who squeezed it gratefully.
“I could join you for Yule.” Frodo said from Sam’s other side where he was cradling Sam’s hand to his chest, stroking it absently. “Take some of the attention off of you. Sam too.”
Pippin frowned. “We would be happy to have you but don’t come just as what you think would be a favour to me.”
“Why not?” Frodo asked, meeting his eyes. Pippin’s mouth turned down and Frodo huffed out a small laugh. “Alright, I’ll see if I’m well enough and feel like it. But I have been known to like a crowd sometimes, and the Tooks are much more forgiving of my oddness and more entertaining than any other crowd in the Shire.”
Pippin studied him, nodding slowly. “I wouldn’t mind having you with us for a bit, not least to keep an eye on you. Not that Sam does not do a marvellous job of that.”
Frodo gave a happy little huff and rubbed Sam’s hand against his cheek. Sam watched him with soft eyes.
“And how are you feeling now, Frodo?”, Merry asked.
He had finished with his work on the fire and was reaching for the matches on the mantle. Both he and Fatty were watching the three on the couch and Frodo in particular. He was still very pale and his weariness showed in dark shadows around his eyes, as well as the way he hadn’t moved about much ever since Merry, Pippin, and Fatty had arrived that afternoon. He had not made attempts to help Sam prepare tea and dinner, for once letting Sam take care of both himself and his guests without complaint, and had leaned on Sam whenever he moved from one seat to another. Sam had assured them quietly that Frodo was well on the road to recovery from the sudden and severe illness that had laid him low for a few days. Still, they worried for him. Though they had to agree that it was in some ways a good sign how openly he let his vulnerability show around them. A few years ago, when he had fallen dangerously ill not long after they had returned to the Shire, he had tried to keep even Sam away. To the point where Sam had found him closer to death than to recovery when he had come to check on him against Frodo’s instructions. Now he trusted them to take care of him and for that at least they were grateful.
“I feel good, Merry, my dear.” Frodo said as genuinely as he could with how soft his voice still was. “Having you all here with me is all I could ever ask fo. I am comfortable and I am quite happy. Thank you all.”
Sam carefully extricated the hand that Frodo was holding and replaced it with his other, so that he could easier put one in Frodo’s hair, stroking it gently. Frodo hummed in pleasure and closed his eyes. Merry nodded absently and turned half back to light the fire.
“My father talked about inviting you all to Brandy Hall for Yule, actually.” he said. “Though part of me thinks he just wants to give everyone something to talk about for the rest of winter.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.” Frodo said. “Your father is overall a very kind hobbit.”
Merry shot him a glance but didn’t say anything.
The tiniest frown appeared on Sam’s face. He glanced between Merry and Frodo and made thoughtful noises before he spoke. “We should think a little on the offer to visit Brandy Hall before we make a decision. That’s what I’m thinking at least.”
Frodo hummed, thumbs tracing circles around Sam’s knuckles. “As usual, you’re right, Sam. It will be a little strange, stranger than before, to be back in Brandy Hall, I expect.”
Pippin was watching Frodo a little shyly. “Did you start wearing out lad’s clothes when you were still living at Brandy Hall, Frodo?” She seemed to be trying to make it sound like a casual question but didn’t quite succeed.
“Well, there was no wearing anything not out, to be honest. It’s quite a crowded place.” Frodo replied slowly, watching the fire or Merry. “I remember that my parents let me wear breeches when I wanted to, but it made them happy to see me in skirts, and it didn’t so much matter to me then.” The room was silent except for the fire now. “Then with everyone in Brandy Hall….” he trailed off and the others watched him warily. Then he smiled and sat up straighter, moving Sam’s hand down onto his knee. Sam didn’t let go, settling his other hand on top and Frodo didn’t take his legs off his lap.
“I haven’t thought about this in years.” Frodo said. “I used to not be able to stop thinking about it, no matter how much I wanted to. And I did want to… After uncle Saradoc took me in, everyone expected me to… be a girl, I suppose. And I didn’t realise that at first. It took me a while.” He chuckled ruefully. “The first time I showed up to a family dinner wearing a weskit of my father’s, I got some… shocked looks, I want to say. One of my aunts hurried me back out and into nearby quarters, probably her’s, I don’t remember. She had me change um…. in front of her, into a dress that didn’t fit. I thought at the time that it was about wearing my father’s clothes, and I felt terrible about it for days, mostly, I think, because I didn’t quite understand how I had done wrong. Eventually, though, I figured out that it was about the skirts, and about my hair, and the bruises and scratches I always had from running around the woods, not whose clothes I was wearing. I didn’t mind so much at first. That was a strange time and there was a lot going on. But it got harder over the years. When, um… when Bilbo brought me here…” He blinked, eyes suddenly watering. Sam gripped his hand tighter. Frodo avoided looking at any of them. “He told me he would get me any clothes I wanted and that I should wear what I liked. I mostly had my mother’s old clothes, so he gave me some of his, until we could get to a tailor, he said. I cried so much.” He hastily wiped away a tear now, laughing a little at himself. “I was too shy to get clothes made for myself for a long while and just wore his. But Bilbo, bless him, talked to some people, I think, about what was going on, after we had some very tearful conversations. Tearful on my part. Though I almost made him cry a few times, I think. He… Well, you see, I felt very ashamed. And scared that he would send me back. But he was very kind. I haven’t heard him speak so tenderly to anyone ever again. And then he got me the salves pretty early on. That helped, when my body and face started looking different. And even sooner than that I started feeling different in… in myself.” He looked up at his friends. “Sorry, I kind of went on there.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Merry said. His voice was tight and his face looked pained.
“Merry, it’s alright.” Frodo said gently. “That was all so many years ago. Uncle Saradoc has not called me Miss since I left with Bilbo.”
Merry stared at him for a moment, chewing the inside of his lip. “Yes, well.”, he said gruffly, turning his back on them, poking the fire.
“Whatever it is your father did or did not do, Merry” Fatty said sternly. “or whatever any of your aunts did to Frodo, that has nothing to do with you. He always knew how much you love him.”
“I certainly did. You were always my favourite cousin. Closely followed by my sweet Pippin, of course.”
“No, that’s fair.” said Pippin, smiling. “Merry’s my favourite, as well.”
Frodo laughed and continued, to try and smooth over Merry’s unearned guilt. “Since I’ve been with Bilbo it was fine, honestly. Everybody thought we were strange anyway. And everybody around these parts has ever been very kind to me.”
He smiled at Sam. Sam was looking at him with a dreamy smile and a slight blush.
“I remember I always thought you lovely.” he mumbled shyly.
Frodo’s face lit up in delight and he leaned towards Sam. “You did? You were so little when I wore dresses, though.”
“I was old enough.” Sam’s ears were quickly turning bright red. “Old enough to see you were pretty. And you were always so kind to me, even when you were only visiting. I always thought you were just wonderful.”
Frodo’s eyes glittered as he laid back against the arm of the couch again, tugging Sam’s hand with him and laying it on his chest. Sam slipped his fingers between the folds of his shirt and stroked the warm skin there.
“Thank you for telling us all that.”, Pippin said quietly.
She brushed her fingers through the hair on Frodo’s feet, shuffling closer to take them into her lap. Frodo hummed and shuddered pleasantly as Pippin scratched lightly at his feet. Sam opened another button on his shirt to slip in his hand. Frodo glanced at the window and put his hand over Sam’s to still it.
“Forgive me, my love, I should make an attempt to check on the Row families before we are all snowed in.”
None of them had noticed how the weather had picked up within the last half hour alone. Snow was already piling up on the window sills outside. Fatty rose from his chair.
“I’ll go. You stay here and let them take that shirt off you, and the trousers too.” He grinned and moved towards the hall and the front door.
“You’re a sweetness, Fatty.” Frodo said and continued to open the buttons on his shirt. “Make sure everybody is alright and taken care of. And we’ll be here when you come back.” He opened his shirt all the way pushing his little breasts together for Fatty who turned back to look at him. Fatty raised an eyebrow and brought one hand down to rub himself through his trousers.
“I shall return posthaste, Mr. Baggins.”