Petal by Armariel

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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.


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