Petal

Fan Fiction about the Fairy Ancestress of the Tooks

~~~~~~~

In The Hobbit, Tolkien mentions Bilbo Baggins’s connection to the Tooks, suggesting that one of the ancestors took a fairy bride, which accounts for the difference in some of their descendants, including Bilbo. What if one of the Tooks DID take a fairy bride? Well, I decided to write a story about her…and after that, I wrote a series of little drabbles (stories of exactly 100 words) and ficlets about her. Once I got started, I couldn’t seem to stop! And this series will have illustrations!

Here’s how she looks–isn’t she lovely? And there will be more!

I. Fairy Lady Her wavy hair, cascading nearly to her ankles, was three different colors.  Bronze-brown underneath, overlaid with coppery red-gold, and on top, streaks of flaming gold that could appear silver at times.  Beneath it shone a face of pure delicate beauty, like the lilies-of-the-valley she liked to tuck behind one sharply pointed ear.  And her eyes could go from green to blue to lavender to silver to gold and back again.   Her wings, whenever they appeared, seemed made of lace and starlight.  Usually, however, she looked merely to be a tiny bubble of twinkling light in the dusk.

II. Omen Frodo had arisen to answer nature’s call, but once that was accomplished, he heard a soft chiming music outside his window, and saw a flickering brightness.  His ten-year-old heart fluttered and he climbed out for a better look. There in the starry darkness of the midsummer night, danced a radiant little lady about one foot tall amongst the garden flowers.  Her hair appeared a candle flame whirling out about her as she moved with quicksilver grace and lightness.  Her gown seemed made of a moonbeam.   Am I dreaming? he thought, with a rush of both fear and joy. III. Secret “Those who have seen Petal say my mother was very similar when she was young,” Primula Baggins said as she set the breakfast table. “Of course, the Bagginses scoff at such nonsense.” “Have you ever seen her, Mum?” Frodo asked. “No, I think not. Although…I may have heard her voice. It was just before you were born. She whispered, ‘I will let no harm befall him.’ I often thought I dreamt it…but now….Best we not tell your father what you saw. He will not understand, and may be impatient.” “It will be our little secret,” Frodo said with a wink. IV. Tattoo She could make a flower appear on her face just by looking at it and then thinking about it. This morning she had seen a blue morning-glory in the Baggins garden. And she thought of the lad who had watched her that night, how his eyes were near the same shade. She bent over the forest pool sparkling greenly and silverly in the noonday sunlight, carelessly ordering her long hair to stay back.  And an imprint of the morning-glory showed beneath her left eye, looking pleased to be upon such a lovely background. I’ve a mortal tattoo, she thought laughing. ~*~*~ V. Morning Dew He was beautiful. Even she could not have told why. She only knew he was beautiful and she wanted him. She held her fingers out to the full moon. Strands of moonshine soon found their way to her fingertips, and she wove them into a simple white gown. And washed her hair in morning dew and honeysuckle nectar. Lastly, she put a tiny red rose on her face. I’m on my way to get myself a mortal mate, she told the other Fairies. Bloodroot would not be happy about it. But he would have to learn to do without her. VII. Legendary So, Petal, what lovespell will you use? Vervain asked. I shan’t use one. They do not last, and can be used but once. You think it enough to look big and beautiful, and smell good, and put flowers on your face? And to sing and dance upon his lawn. I shall make use of my voice. What of your feet? Will you put hair on them? Only if he wishes it. I cannot understand. Hobbits are so dull. Why do you trouble with them? Petal’s smile lit the entire dell. After he is mine, they will be legendary, she said. VIII. Gratitude “And…and…I got big, and helped him pull the goat from the pit,” Butternut sputtered, “and what do you think he said? ‘Thank you!’ ‘Thank you’ indeed! Of all the…Why are you laughing?” For his sister Bittersweet was falling over giggling, and Petal laughed also, albeit gently. “‘Tis considered polite amongst Mortals,” she explained, “to thank one for a favor. To Fairies, to thank one means one is forgetting the good deed, and wanting something to guarantee remembrance. But ’tis different with Mortals. They think it rude not to thank one.” Butternut thought this over. “Well,” he sniffed, “I’m glad one of us has lived amongst them, and knows their ways. However, you certainly won’t catch ME doing so. I’m minded to tie a knot in his hair while he sleeps.” “You would do better to paint a gold streak in it,” Petal suggested. ~~~ A/N: Tangles in the hair, or “elf-locks” were once thought to be the result of fairy mischief. IX. Jealousy “I say,” Bloodroot suggested, “that we tie knots in his hair, paint his eyes yellow, and make his teeth black, so he will look very ugly, and she will not want him.” “She will just put him back again,” Vervain said. “She has more powers than us. Why don’t you just wait until he dies? Then perhaps you will have your chance…if you change your ways.” “Change my ways?” he snorted. “I don’t wish to change. Wickedness is part of my allure.” “Well, obviously you did not explain that to Petal,” Vervain said. X. A Fairy’s Burden “So,” Bittersweet said, “did you take the Queen’s suggestion, and paint a gold streak in his hair?” “I did not,” Butternut said defiantly, “do aught so ridiculous. But neither did I tie knots in it. I’ve my pride to think of.” “But of course,” Bittersweet said most sweetly. She saw Petal come up behind them, but Butternut did not. “These Mortals,” he grumbled, “with their thank yous, and their thises and their thats. The things a Fairy must put up with.” “It gets worse,” Petal said with her most radiant smile. XI. Harm “She said she would let no harm befall me,” Frodo said a week after the funeral. “Then why did she do this? Why didn’t she save them?” “Who?” Bilbo said brushing back a curl from the boy’s wet face. “HER,” Frodo lifted his head from the pillow. “My great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother…or whatever she is. Mum said so.” “My lad,” Bilbo said, “no harm has befallen you.” “What could be WORSE than losing BOTH your parents??” Frodo demanded, sitting straight up. “Never to have had them at all,” Bilbo said, a bit helplessly. XII. Discovery But flowers are so pretty, his mother said. Why would you take them apart? To see how they work, he replied. Now he sat by the brook, having found that he could make things appear larger by putting them in the water. He could see that the leaf he held was composed of tiny parts that all fit together. If only he could see inside each of them to discover what made them work. And even as he held it to the sunlight to look through it, suddenly it grew much larger, and he could see each tiny part as though it were as big as the leaf. And all the tinier parts that made it up. What can be doing that? he wondered, with sudden joy. And Petal smiled as she held her thumb and forefinger in a circle over his leaf. You will find out soon, she thought. XIII. Fragrance Ever since he had seen her dancing, he had spoken to her betimes, loved her, believed in her, planted a special yellow rose, just for her. And now she had let him down. He seldom came out of his room at Brandy Hall. Rarely talked to anyone. Ate very little. One morning his maidservant, Daffodil, came bursting in, crying, “Mister Frodo, look out your window!” The girl practically had to pull him out of bed. Reluctantly Frodo looked out, saying, “This better be good.” There, dewy and glistening in the morning sun, was that very same yellow rose. XIV. Respectability You’ve met someone, haven’t you, his mother said. I can see it. Why do you not let me meet her? Is she not respectable? Do you not care at all what folks will think? His smile was slightly maddening. And that night when he slipped out of bed and went out to the garden, she followed him secretly. There she saw a slender luminous form, moving with incredible slow grace to the sound of a small drum and tinkling bells, unseen. A shower of pale-blue and silver tiny stars followed in its wake, and suddenly it sprang upward like a startled bird, whirling and scattering more stars. And then it drifted back to the ground, and she saw a pair of wings, seemingly made of lace and starlight, rising behind it. And she saw her son sitting motionless, just watching. And she knew nothing would ever be the same again, including herself. XV. Lo, how a Rose How did that get here? Mrs Brandybuck asked.  That yellow rosebush. Our gardener didn’t plant it. SHE planted it, Daffodil said.  Didn’t she, Mister Frodo? She who? The Fairy lady. His great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmum…. Stop talking nonsense, Daff, said Mrs. Brandybuck. That’s all a lot of tall tales. Sheer moonshine. The others continued to prattle about the Fairy lady. Frodo just stooped beside the small rosebush and touched the yellow petals of the one flower on it. Bilbo smiled sadly to himself. Let ’em think it was she, he thought, digging at a bit of dirt under his thumbnail.  Why not? XVI. Sparkles and Twinkles I saw her last night, his mother said. Don’t think I didn’t. She had no hair on her feet. And was she wearing any clothes? I could scarcely tell. So many sparkles and twinkles in the way. Never saw the like of it. She was clothed in dewdrops and starshine, he said with dreamy eyes. Oh, be off with you, she said impatiently. I do not know, really, Mum, he said. But I would like to find out. Listen to you! Always wanting to find out things. At least I come by it honestly, he said with a wink. XVII. Mushrooms “Bilbo, look!” cried Frodo as they entered the gate of his new home. And there, on his lawn, outside the window of the room that would be Frodo’s, was a circle of mushrooms. “A Fairy ring,” Bilbo said. “’Twasn’t there before.” “Are they good eating?” “Nay, you don’t want to eat those. Why, I’m surprised at you for asking, lad.” Frodo told himself he would not look out his window that night. He was done with such nonsense. He lay with the covers pulled over his head, yet could not sleep. And then he heard a soft shimmering music. Giving up on his resolve, he finally stole over to the window, taking his lighted candle. He saw no bright beings dancing in the Fairy ring. But he did see something in the middle. The yellow rose, softly glowing. Those mushrooms were most definitely not for eating. XVIII. Resignation One does not simply go off and wed a Fairy. Who ever heard of such a thing? Standing before the burrow with him in the afternoon, she appeared not as an elemental creature, but merely a lovely little woman, dressed as a Hobbitess, her hair trimmed to hip-length and braided. Its colors were synthesized into a beautiful auburn, and she had been practicing keeping her eyes green, supposing he would like green best, being so fond of leaves. In one hand she held a bunch of flowers. What will I tell my friends? Why must you make me look a fool? “Hullo, Mother,” she said with a quaint curtsey, offering the bouquet. What of your children? What will they be like? Will they have wings? And his mother looked at her feet, clad in green slippers. Why can’t you be like your brother? “Hullo, Daughter,” she said, resigned. XIX. Colors Fairy eyes come in five colors: blue, lavender, silver, gold, and green. Petal was one of the few whose eyes were all these colors. Blue denotes humor, a spirit of mischief and merriment, while lavender eyes indicate tranquility, a satisfaction and peace with one’s sphere. Silver is for wisdom, an intuitive feel for the right thing, while gold is for an affinity for beauty and music. And green is for love, of the sort that is selfless and giving and enduring. And so Petal decided to keep hers green while she was married. At least, when others could see her. XX. Something Queer Sam, what’s the matter with you, lad? You used to love going to the Bagginses with me to help with the gardenin’. Now you’re actin’ like there’s a snake over there goin’ to bite ye. There’s…somethin’ queer goin’ on there, Dad. Somethin’ mighty queer, and somebody ought to tell ’em about it. I’ve looked out my window and seen…somethin’ mighty queer. Yer tryin’ me patience, lad. What is it you been seein’? Well sir…it’s in their garden. I been seein’ pretty lights there in the night. ‘Specially in that mushroom circle. And I’ve heard music. You have to get real close to hear it. But I heard it. Then there’s that yellow rosebush. There’s only ever one flower on it, and it stays pretty for two weeks, then when it’s gone, another takes its place. It’s queer, I tell you. And it’s only been happenin’ since Mister Frodo went to live there. Then there’s that light he’s got. You can see it ‘specially when he’s a sleepin’. Before he started livin’ there, he didn’t have it. Gaffer Gamgee emitted an exasperated snort. You’ll be tellin’ me that Fairies dance on their lawn next, he said. XXI. Riding a Swan Of course you can ride on a swan, Petal said gold-eyed. Here is one now. And Frodo climbed onto its back. Up it went, into the infinite blueness. And he felt that he was inside a morning-glory that had grown huge. Below him were clouds like endless fields and mountains and copses of snow. And more swans floating in lakes of lavender. Then it went dark and there were silver stars, and some fell on him and stuck, singing. And Sam looked at his glowing face shaded in greenness. What are you dreamin’ of this time, Mister Frodo? he wondered. XXII. Columbine  You would give a hobbit-child a Fairy name? No one names their children after flowers here. She’s half Fairy too, Mother, he explained patiently. But she has to live amongst Mortal children, son. Why not give her a sensible name? You simply cannot call her ‘Columbine’, it’s perfectly ridiculous. Perhaps it will set a precedent, Petal said smiling. And it seemed the babe smiled in her arms as well. And so she was called Columbine. And Petal’s sister-in-law, not to be outdone, named her newborn daughter Pansy. At least the poor little creature has no wings, his mother thought. Drabble and a half….. XXIII.  The Call   Sam went to bed with the chickens, as his mum would have put it, and as he did he saw a lovely little lady standing right in the middle of his room, all lit up like a lamp she was, and he would have sworn she had wings, although he actually didn’t see any such. Samwise, she said in her silvery little voice,  you must go next door. I must leave him now. That Thing he carries is too much for me any more. You will know soon what you must do. And before he could say boo, she vanished, just like that, and he jumped up, yanked on his clothes, and fairly jumped out his window. Dashing over to the Bagginses, he heard voices, and went to peek in a window. And could not believe what he saw. And heard. You will do what I can no longer, Petal thought sadly. XIV. Toadflax After Columbine came the two little lads, Valerian and Yarrow, and then baby Marjoram. At the least one’s naming, their grandmother was heard to heave a great sigh of relief, and the older siblings giggled. “She was afraid you would call it ‘Toadflax’,” Columbine said as she held her tiny sister for the first time. “Where would she get such an idea?” their dad said. Petal glanced at the two lads, who were looking very innocent indeed, and gazing intently upon the new addition. “Grandmum takes some odd notions sometimes,” she said smiling beatifically upon her family. XV. Tangles Ugh, here’s another! What is it, Mum? Son…ever since you married that…creature, I’ve gotten one tangle after another in my hair! You can’t tell me it wasn’t her doing…Why does she hate me? Because I opposed the match? It was for your own good! Petal wouldn’t do this, Mother. I will ask her, she’ll know what to do. Petal appeared in the doorway just then. This is Bloodroot’s doing, she said. Hang a pony-shoe in your bedroom window and another on the door, Mum. Fairies cannot abide iron. That will keep him out. And she ran her fingertips over her mother-in-law’s curls, and all the tangles disappeared and the hair was shinier than before. Petal could not come within three feet of that doorway afterward, but she did not complain. No one had said marriage would be easy. And her mother-in-law frequently baked her favorite strawberry layer cake after that. XXVI. Mortality  She had to wonder what her husband was feeling when he made love to her. She greatly enjoyed the closeness. But she knew she was not feeling what he was feeling. What was it? This pleasure that he said was the greatest one could know? Was he frustrated that she did not feel it with him, that it was enough for her to be able to give it to him, like a meal she cooked just for him, unable to taste any of it herself? Sometimes I would like to be Mortal for just one day, she thought. Even if it meant becoming acquainted with Pain also. Like those mothers whom she had helped to bear their children. When she asked him, he said it was worth it all, that she did not have to go through that. He could scarcely have borne it. And yet she continued to wonder…. XXVII. Gossip In the first few weeks of her marriage, she had felt it was enough just to be with him. Then she began missing Vervain and her other friends. And she wondered what it was to have friends among the hobbit-women. She walked through the village invisible, just observing. She watched the hobbitesses in the market-place, walking their babies in prams, or chatting over tea or needlework. They talked of their families, or the best way to cook potatoes, or what to do for the croup. Sometimes they exchanged items of gossip, not always malicious, but occasionally so. Petal did not understand the nature of scandal, but the wicked gleams in their eyes told her much. They spoke of who had gotten betrothed or jilted, or who had a little black sheep and what were they doing wrong? And they spoke of her. She contemplated suddenly appearing before them, just to see the look on their faces. She’s lovely to look at and seems very charming, but what IS she?? I feel so sorry for his poor mother. Well, I don’t. She’s a nosy old thing, and she got exactly what she deserved. I am missing something, Petal thought. But what? XXVIII. Farewell It came to her in a dream. She had not even been aware that he had safely returned home. And she did not know if he had truly forgiven her for what she could not do. She arrived in time to see the ship sail away, with the light shining from it as his friends wept on the shore. She did not weep. But she tried to convey one last message to him. I did not think I could ever love anyone else that way, after my husband died. Farewell, and may you find joy in your new home…my Beloved. XXIX. A Boon Lord Ulmo, can you grant me a boon? And what would that be, child? Can you turn back the time? For but a few minutes? Why do you wish this, daughter of Irmo? There is one I would farewell. And see one last time. One hour is all I can give you. She looked to the retreating figures of his friends. They would have to go through the pain of parting once more…. Never mind, Lord Ulmo. Just see him safely home. I will, dear one. And I will see to it that he has joy. Thank you, my Lord. XXX. Pondering Sam…did you notice that the mushrooms and the yellow rosebush disappeared…the day after Gandalf told us about the Ring? Of course I noticed, Mister Frodo. What do you suppose is with that? It means she’s gone. I don’t know where. And I don’t have good dreams anymore. Don’t you, sir? No. I wonder why she’d just leave. Just like that. Maybe it’s a sign of some kind. Maybe…she thinks you should go on this…journey. I wonder why she took such an interest in me in the first place. Bilbo said it was because I was marked out for something, special. Do you suppose this is it? Could be, Mister Frodo. Yes. This could very well be it. Well, there’s no more doubt in my mind, then. I’m going. Even if she’s not around to see to me any more. You still got me, Mister Frodo. Yes, Sam. That I do. XXXI. Beauty Secrets Lina dear, WHAT have you been using on your hair? I’ve never seen it look so shiny, and never realized it was such a pretty shade of brown. No grey at all. Tell me love, what’s your secret? Oh, I simply started brushing it a hundred strokes per night, like my mother taught me. And she went her way, chuckling to herself. That old biddy had never been so nicey-nice to her before. Blessed if I’m going to tell her my beauty secrets, she thought as she stopped at the fruit-stand to buy some fresh strawberries.  Just let her wonder. XXXII. Insomnia The others are asleep now. But I cannot sleep. I do not think it is because we are so high up in this tree. I slept in a tree once before, when I was a lad. I wonder where she is now, what she is doing. Perhaps she left because I did not appreciate her. I took what she gave me, and did not thank her. For her protection, for the lovely dreams, the inspiration. I wonder if I shall ever see her again. I hope so, so I might thank her. I think perhaps I could love her, but of course that is absurd. She is my ancestress. It would scarcely even be natural. I wonder if I shall even come back alive. Perhaps she is somewhere about even now, keeping watch as she used to? No, I think not, I would sense her presence. I would have better dreams. I cannot but wonder if she gave me that dream of the Sea. I dreamt it again. What can it mean? Is that where I will find my doom? Or perhaps my greatest joy? I should be glad of some peaceful sleep now. That is all I would ask…. XXXIII. Aim Her mother-in-law had suffered no further outrages upon her locks, so they decided it was safe to take the pony-shoes from the door and windows. But then one day they came upon an astonishing sight: a lady looking exactly like Petal, strutting through the marketplace singing a rude song, hiking her skirts nearly to her knees, flirting with the males, snatching things from small children. He’s at it again, Petal said with lifted eyebrows. She snatched an apple from a cart and and started to hurl it, when her mother-in-law took it from her, saying, Allow me. And she flung it, breaking his concentration so he became Bloodroot once more. He turned and saw them, then disappeared like a soap-bubble. She pulled out a coin and gave it to the apple-vendor, smiling most sweetly. We hobbits have the best aim, she said to Petal, who smiled back in wicked delight. XXXIV. Grandmum Took’s Pride She most certainly had the best-looking grandchildren in town. Columbine was the prettiest, with her reddish-brown mop of curls, the big hazel eyes like her father’s, her heart-shaped face and dimpled cheeks. She had a merry heart, and liked to find out things, just like her daddy. And she wouldn’t take any guff from anyone. Anybody who tried to trifle with her or her siblings would likely get their noses pulled. Many years later, Petal would look at Belladonna Took and see much of Columbine in her. Even though it was Valerian who was her ancestor. Valerian was violently red-haired, clever, quick-tempered, and reckless. Not much he wouldn’t do on a dare. When he got big, he was the world’s greatest flirt. Every lass in the village was in love with him. He married late in life, and begot six children. Only one was a boy, who would become the great-great-grandfather of Isengrim Took II. Sandy-haired Yarrow admired Valerian without reservation. He was an incorrigible chatterbox, who was constantly in trouble because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He liked to eavesdrop, yet was nearly always discovered because he just couldn’t keep quiet. Which was why no one liked to take him fishing. His father did so, however, just because. Marjoram was everyone’s baby, even when she grew up. She was very pretty and knew it, and full of oddities and whims. Her mum said she was the most fairy-like of them all, and the only one with changeable eyes. They could look hazel, or green, or grey, according to what colors she wore or the light around her. However, she could not change them at will. All four of them attracted much attention everywhere they went, whether they tried to or not…and more often than not, they did try.

Petal–Part 2

Yes, there’s more!