"All right in here, then?" Frodo queried, knocking softly then poking his head around the door.
Ruby nodded silently, clutching the blankets tight up around her chest, trying to suppress its heaving from her sudden dash and leap into the bed.
Frodo raised an eyebrow and slipped into the room. "How about a bedtime story, then?"
Ruby bit her lip a nodded again, this time more eagerly, scooting over a little as Frodo sat down on the bed next to her, groaning a little at the creaking of his bones. Rosie's time was nearing, again; another younger brother or sister, and Robin had been protesting rather noisily about the fact that soon he would no longer be the centre of attention. They were all exhausted and at the end of their respective tethers -- adults and children both -- so while Rosie took some much-needed rest and Sam soothed his youngest son, Frodo remembered his own childhood in Brandyhall, just one of countless other children for whom there was not time for individual good-nights.
"Uncle Frodo?" Ruby asked, the hint of a lisp still softening her consonants.
"Hmm?" Frodo said absently, sliding an arm about her shoulders. "Oh, right, a story! Now. . ." He frowned a little, as if in deep concentration. "How about the one with the lass in the tower? With long hair?" Ruby pondered for a moment, then shook her head. "The witch in the sugar house?" Another shake. "I know! The girl whose granny gets eaten by the wolf!"
Ruby made a rude noise. "I've heard all those," she said, a little exasperated.
"As have I," Frodo conceded. "I've an idea -- why don’t you tell me a story?"
Ruby thought a briefly, then wriggled over a bit further, patting the bed beside her. "All right then. Lie down," she commanded.
Frodo shifted down a bit, then obediently laid back; folding his hands carefully on his chest. They spent a moment longer arranging elbows and knees, and once they had settled, Ruby began.
"Once upon a time there were three little pigs."
"Pigs?"
"Yes."
"This story isn't about hobbits then?"
"No. Now shh or you'll have to go to bed with no story!"
Frodo closed his mouth again.
"Once upon a time there were three little pigs. They wanted to live together, so they decided to build a house."
"Not a smial?"
"Uncle Frodo! Quiet! You're ruining the story!"
"Oh, sorry." Frodo looked appropriately ashamed, and smacked his own hand over his mouth firmly.
"The three pigs decided to build a house because they loved each other very much and they wanted to be together all the time."
Frodo smiled behind his hand.
"First they decided to build their house out of straw, because it was the harvest season and it had been a particularly good year, and because the straw was yellow and bright like golden sunlight.
"So the three little pigs worked hard, and after weaving for days and days (and only stopping for four meals a day), their straw house was finished.
"They moved in and started living together, but soon after a wolf came upon the house they had built, and was very jealous." Ruby looked down warningly at Frodo, halting his question. "He was jealous because the three little pigs were happy in their house of straw, and the wolf didn't like happy things. Except to eat them."
Frodo blinked blearily, struggling to keep his eyes open as Ruby's soft voice and the warmth of her body and the bed soothed him.
"The wolf was so angry and jealous that he huffed, and he puffed, and he blew their straw house down!" Frodo made an appropriate noise of dismay as she huffed and puffed in demonstration.
"Did the pigs get eaten?"
"No," Ruby answered, seeming to have forgotten her earlier threats, rather eager to continue the drama. "They managed to escape, all together, and ran far away to where they were safe. But they still needed a house."
Ruby pondered for a moment, then looked over at Frodo. "Uncle Frodo!" Frodo started, blinking his eyes open wide as Ruby poked his chest indignantly.
"I'm awake! I was just . . . Thinking about the poor little pigs."
"With your eyes closed?"
"Well, yes . . . I can see them better that way."
Ruby snorted. "All right then. Ready for the next bit?"
"Yes please."
"Since the wolf had blown their house down, the three little pigs needed somewhere to live. And since the straw had been so easy to blow down last time, this time they used sticks, gathering them from the ground under the trees that surrounded where they were going to build their new home. They thought about taking the branches from the trees themselves; but then they thought they'd better keep the trees on their side -- it would keep them safer -- and only take the branches that they were offered."
"Mmph," Frodo made a sound that might have been interest or approval, or just a sound to prove he was still awake, and didn't open his eyes.
"It took them longer this time, because it was harder to fit all the branches together than it was to weave all the straw, even with their hooves."
"Trotters," Frodo mumbled.
". . . Even with their trotters," Ruby said, as if Frodo hadn't spoken, and Frodo grinned briefly, thinking of Gamgee stubbornness.
"But finally, after weeks and weeks, they had a new house, bigger than the last one but stronger too, and room enough for children, should they want any. Piglets," she corrected quickly, before Frodo could speak up.
"So they all moved in together -- again -- and lived happily for quite some time. But while they had been building their new house, the wolf had sniffed out their trail and followed it to where their new house was amongst the trees, because he was still hungry. In fact, he was even more hungry now, because since he first found the three pigs, all his tummy wanted was bacon, and he wouldn't settle for anything less!"
"Like your brother Merry," Frodo suggested.
Ruby giggled involuntarily, then gave Frodo another poke. "Yes, but not even Merry would eat a *live* pig.
"Anyway, after the three little pigs had been living together happily for a while, the wolf found them! But luckily, the trees, who they'd made friends with, saw the wolf coming and warned the pigs that he was on his way, so the pigs quickly ran inside and bolted the door closed!
"When the wolf got into the clearing where the house was he was very angry, because he was very hungry and he had been able to hear the sound of the pigs singing as he was walking into the forest, and it had made his mouth water. But now there were no pigs to be seen!
"Now because the wolf hadn't eaten for so long, he was very weak, so he decided that instead of trying to break into the house he would try and lure the pigs out to where he was, or at least get them to let him in.
"'Little pigs!' he called to them. 'Little pigs, let me in! I have been walking long and hard, looking for friends, and I'm ever so hungry!'
"'No!' cried one of the pigs from inside. 'Why should we? You'll just try to eat us.'
"'Let me in!' he howled.
"'Not by the hair on my feet!' yelled one of the pigs--" Frodo decided to remain silent on this issue of anatomy, given the rather dramatic plotline. "-- And with that, the wolf sucked in all his breath, and huffed, and puffed, and blew their house down! He was even so angry that his breath blew all the leaves off the trees surrounding the house. The leaves blew about like clouds in the clearing where the pigs lived, and they were able to run away before the leaves sank to a ground, so the wolf didn't even see where they went!"
"That was lucky," Frodo murmured, the soft spell of Ruby's voice lulling him into an even sleepier state, conjuring up images of wolves and leaves and wooden houses behind his closed eyelids.
"Yes, but now the pigs were very sad. They had been very happy in their house made of sticks and twigs, but the wolf had come and destroyed their home again, even after they had been so sure it was strong enough to withstand anything! But now the pigs didn't feel sure of anything, and they didn't know where they'd be safe, if ever again!
"They wandered the world for many years, through forests and over mountains and through marshes and down rivers. Then, one day they came to a green land full of small, rolling hills and little rivers that laughed like the bird call in the morning, and they felt like their hearts had come home.
"But still they didn't know where they could live. There were lots of trees about, and fields and fields of hay, but they knew from before that straw and stick houses would be no protection from the wolf. For a while they despaired. Then, one day, one of the pigs had an idea:
"'I know,' he said. 'Why don't we build a house in one of these hills?'
"'What, like tunnels?' said one.
"'Like a cave?' said the other.
"'No,' said the first pig. 'Just like a normal house, except made of the earth itself. Surely the wolf won't be strong enough to blow away the earth!'
"So, as soon as they'd had second breakfast, the three little pigs chose a lovely round hill with green grass all over it and with a big tree in the field behind, and started digging. They worked hard, day and night, taking turns to have rest through the night as they dug further and further into the hill. Eventually, they holes they had dug were big enough, and they searched around the green land for the best materials to fit out their new house with -- great fallen tree trunks cut up to make wood floors, bricks made from river-mud to put up around the walls, fibre from the plants to weave rugs and blankets. One of the pigs even planted some of these plants on the hill, and soon they even had a garden!
"Finally, their new home was finished, and they all moved in together for the third time. And it wasn't a moment too soon. For the wolf was still hungry, even hungrier than before, and that had made him even faster on the road as he had followed their trail. When he came upon the green land he was happy, because he knew that the pigs would stay in this land, and besides, their scent was stronger here.
"But he searched all over the rolling hills and along the singing streams and saw no sign of them, until, in the distance, he saw smoke. Running faster now, he came across a chimney, poking up out of the crown of a green hill like a tower on an island. Walking around the hill a bit, and sniffing closer, he finally came upon a big round door, green as the grass around it, so he hadn't seen it the first time he'd searched the area. He pressed his ear to the door and could hear from inside sounds of singing, and his stomach rumbled loudly, for there was the smell of cooking coming through the cracks around the door as well, and he was very hungry.
"'Who's there?' called one of the pigs from inside, for the rumbling of the wolf's tummy was so loud that they had heard it from in there!
"'It's me!' cried the wolf pitifully, and he must have been a very pitiful sight if the pigs had been able to see him - all wasted away with hunger! 'Let me in!'
"But although a two of the pigs felt pity for the wolf, and wanted to let him in to share their meal (for they had plenty of food), the third pig remembered how sad and cold they had been after the wolf had blown their last two houses down, and cried out in a loud voice: 'No! There are vegetables in the garden if you're hungry, but you shan't have us!'
"But the wolf didn't want vegetables, he wanted pork, so once again he took a deep breath and went to blow down the little pigs' house, for there were no trees or straw around now to hide their escape. But no matter how hard he huffed and puffed, the house stayed put where it was, for it was part of the hill itself, now.
"After huffing and puffing for some time, the wolf finally gave up. The three pigs didn't even seem to notice he was trying to blow their house down, they had even started singing again, as if he weren't even there!
"Now, the wolf might have given up then and gone to seek different prey, but his anger made him want to eat the pigs even more than ever, and the smell of food wafting out on the smoke from the chimney made him even hungrier. Suddenly, he had an idea! He would climb down the chimney, and be right in the kitchen where the pigs were -- he could eat them right away and then eat their meal for supper!
"The wolf was skinny enough now that he could fit down he chimney, even such a small chimney that was just built for pigs, and so, laughing quietly to himself, he wriggled his way down. But he had become skinnier than he thought! And he was so angry and hungry and wicked that he had forgotten to think before he got into the chimney, and fell straight into the big pot of water the pigs had boiling on the fire!
"Well, the pigs got a big shock at that, but it was too late to save the wolf -- the water was very hot and he died before he even knew what was happening to him. So they buried him in the garden outside their home, and the tastiest vegetables grew where they planted him, and kept the pigs well-fed for as long as they lived there. The end!"
Ruby glanced down at Frodo, because she had been a bit worried about telling a story where the wolf fell into the fire, and wanted to see if he had noticed her on-the-spot alteration. "Uncle Frodo?" She needn't have been concerned. The only response Frodo made was a soft snore.
Her exasperated sigh was somewhat spoiled by a gaping yawn, and Frodo was awfully warm by her side. Wriggling down a little further into bed, she pillowed her cheek on her hands and nuzzled close to Frodo, who in turn gave a startlingly loud snort and twitched his arm a little. Ruby giggled sleepily, but the soft sound trailed off as she feel into dreams.
Sam came in not long after, cradling an armful of warm, sleeping Robin; and left again with an armful of warm, sleeping Frodo, a smile on his face and warmth in his heart; kisses left on slumbering faces.
~
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