Work Text:
The addition of a cute furry platypus to the hobbit population of Erebor was regally hailed. As was custom for dwarrow and hobbit alike, Frodo was thrown a Shifting Celebration where he commemorated his first shift. What wasn’t as usual was the amount of celebration as the tiny tyke was treated to a party meant for royalty. Dís and Vaíl insisted the smallest member of their family would need to be properly celebrated throughout the Mountain. No one was all too disappointed as this was a free day of feasting and rest for the budding dwarrow nation. And as had been stated before, young Frodo could melt the heart of a Stone Giant.
But where the tiny hobbit was adorable and much adored there was no telling the wickedness that skulked about. Even in a Mountain filled with a race of people who valued children nearly as mucha s they did their gold the odd shift and creature was viewed as a potential threat. There had been very little rabble rousing when there was only Bilbo residing in the Mountain, as she was one of the original fourteen heroes of the Age. Even so she’d been saved from a number of assassination attempts by Nori who’d taken it upon himself to be in the know about potential threats to his friends and lieges. Attempts on Bilbo were rare, however, as she’d married Bofur who was, even with the vast wealth from the quest, still viewed a commoner. As such there was very little concern fro her over extending her odd Hobbit ways into what was deemed the purity of the dwarrow race. It was still a sore spot the lass was so close to the Royal Family, holding a position as intermediary with the Tree Shaggers as it were, but better the hobbit have to deal with the weed eater than some poor dwarf sap.
It had appeared the issue was going to die down and peace evolve in its steed. But with the addition of the strange little creature these misgivings began to spark once more, and in even greater number. The cuteness of the lad was undeniable, but it wasn’t right for something that small to be half that developed yet. Though the majority saw this as charming and precocious others saw it as unsettling and uncanny. If Hobbits were that developmentally progressed so early what would happen when the lass started breeding with her dwarf husband. It was bad enough that they might actually conceive children of mixed heritage, but the possibility of such a creature outshining there own was daunting and worrying. Furthering the misgivings was the reactions of the heroes and the royals to the wee thing. Frodo was fawned over as though a young prince himself. The heirs went so far as to name the oddity ‘cousin’, their mother claiming him as a tiny nephew. Even the King was answering to the creature’s ‘Uncle Thorin’. It was not to be had and something must be done before the Mountain was lousy with Hobbits and the once proud and strong race brought to their knees by the infection.
As paranoia tends to do, it breeds and runs deeper into the darkness of a person’s heart and mind. When like minds find one another evil is plotted and born. So it was not even three months after the Shifting Festival that little Frodo was abducted from his bedchamber in the middle of the night. The cowards who’d taken the tiny tot had set up a diversion in the lower East mines, knowing Bofur and Bifur would be sent to maintain the situation, as they were part of the King’s Council. With nothing but a hobbit hedgepig and an oversized cook raccoon to stop them they’d assumed taking the louse would be easily achieved. Unfortunately for the five dwarrow conspirators that oversized cook was very handy with a ladle and that hobbit lass had been taking lessons with her elfish letter opener for the better part of eight years. Even so, it was hard to maintain their ground in the wake of three trained badgers, a hyena, and a jaguar, for these dwarrow were used to fighting and fighting dirty at that. The pair had managed to subdue two of the badgers and the jaguar when the last badger grabbed Bilbo by the hair and threatened to slit her throat there and then. The hyena took the screeching Frodo and ran off into the night before Nori could find his way to the mayhem and end the life of the bastard who’d threaten his little friend in such a manner.
The abduction had been thwarted but had also been successful, as by the time the guard was roused the hyena had spirited away with the tiny Frodo. But, as had been proven before, these dwarrow were not the brightest of the lot and had a penchant for underestimating their targets. They also hadn’t done their homework as was made blatant when the kidnapper suddenly found himself in excruciating pain, falling from his horse screaming into the night and the darkness of the Mirkwood. As he remained on the ground in agony a tiny male platypus waddled off into the night and dove into a nearby stream, his venomous spurs glistening in the moonlight.
After an hour or so of paddling away from his attacker the tiny lad waddled out of the lake and shifted back to his bed shirted hobbit form and ran deeper into the strange dark wood. He couldn’t see anything as he rushed away, only adrenaline and fear spurring his little legs further and further into the mirk. Finally a bleached root tripped the crying thing and he landed into a terrified heap in the center of a tiny grove, sobs wracking his tiny body. He didn’t know where he was or where he should go, but he did know that his Auntie Bilbo had been in great danger when he’d left her and he had to try and get back to her before he lost the last of his family!
He’d near calmed himself down at the thought of needing to save his Auntie and Uncle Bombur when something brushed against a bush that lined his tiny haven. Fear had him jumping ot his feet, exhaustion had him falling onto his rear. Big blue eyes streamed as they watched the black leaves of the bush he thought the noise had come from. He didn’t realize he could suddenly see in this dankness, fear making him far less observant as he waited for his attacker to jump from the trembling bush.
“What are you?!” Frodo sniffled as he rubbed at his cheeks and stared into the brush. Right in front of him, peaking its tiny head out from between a pair of leaves was what looked like a baby deer face. Glancing around for a larger mama deer he saw the pair seemed alone and rose to his knees as he watched the liquid black eyes watch him. “Are you lost too? Is your mama looking for you?”
The tiny thing seemed to be slightly taken aback as it twitched its ears and turned to look around the glen the young hobbit had found himself in. Instead of fleeing the creature stepped out into the path and slowly made its way to the tiny Halfling. Seeing it better in the dappled light of the glen Frodo could see the markings clearly and was confused once more. This was clearly a deer but it was so small. To be sure, it was taller than him, standing at about two feet maybe. But it was smaller than any baby deer he’d ever seen, and it didn’t have the white speckles normal baby deer had. It was a russet brown color with some darker shading down the back, and it had tiny antlers on its head. “Are you a mini deer?” The faunt took the apparently friendly nature of the animal to softly scoot forward and offer his tiny hand in friendship. He held his breath as it tensed and sniffed at his hand. Frodo’s face crumpled when he thought it was going to flee and leave him alone again, only to burst into a cheerful grin and giggles as it lapped at the digits and then placed its head under the questing hand. “Will you be my friend then?” he asked the creature as he continued to pet the tiny beast.
It was this rhythmic action that allowed Frodo to finally calm down from the terror of the previous events and he slowly began to get drowsy as the adrenaline left his tiny frame. His giggles were soft and tired as the baby deer nuzzled and lapped at the tear tracks around his puffy face and he found himself pushed back onto his rear by an over eager head butt. The tiny thing seemed to want him to crawl under the bush it had come from; it had began to nip at his bed shirt, pulling him with it, so he went. The bush was big enough he could curl under it and his new friend wrapped itself around him. With a mighty yawn he leaned back against the strange white tree behind him and blinked tiredly, happy to wrap his arms around the sleek mass of furry warmth. A slick tongue came out to lap at his curly hair, gentle teeth picking out debris as the tiny hobbit fell into a dreamless slumber.
“Frodo!!!” the tiny faunt was woken by the familiar call of his name and a strange wetness running over his forehead repeatedly. Blinking his crusty eyes open he found a black nose in his way snuffling at his face and making him giggle. “Did you hear that?! FRODO!” Before he could respond to his name he found himself suddenly lifted into frantic arms and crushed into a pillowy chest he’d come to associate with safety and home. With a cry of “Auntie Bilbo!” he burrowed into the warm embrace and fell apart in relief barely registering his cousin’s and uncle’s as they swarmed him as well.
Amber eyes were streaming as the hobbit lass ran fingers through her little ones hair and over the tiny faunt’s body, looking for injury. She kept muttering her thanks to the Valar, the Mother, Mahal, and Bifur who was shifting from his Grey Wolf form back to his dwarrow self. The clearing was filled with guard and family, most of the company having gone out in search of their tiny family member. They spent the night following the faint trace of the tiny platypus. Dwalin and Thorin had ridden ahead, torches in their shield hands, until they’d found the felled kidnapper. He’d continued to scream as they sent him back to the Mountain under heavy guard (with, perhaps a few extra bruises from one enraged hobbit and her husband) to be dealt with by Glóin and Fíli until the King could return. Óin had left instruction to have the one of his underlings see to the soon to be beardless orc rutting daisy eater, he was going to continue on and assure himself he’d not done anything unfixable to their faunt. At the stream’s edge the tracking had been given over to the wolf, as Bifur’s nose was second to no one in his shift. He also had the advantage of not needing the torchlight to find his way through the darkness, allowing him to race ahead of the rest. It had still been arduous and slow going, rushing waters being the bane to a tracker’s existence, and in a place as off as the Mirkwood things were never as they seemed. But by the time the first grey lights of dawn began to crest and break through the dank canopy they’d found the broken brush where young Frodo had taken off into the wilderness. Bilbo hadn’t needed Nori’s tracking skill or Bifur’s nose to lead her down the fright made path and had only been tempered by Bofur as they tried to race to their child’s aid. It was the elf light that finally led them into the glen they found their little one, though Bilbo, Kíli, Gimli, and Bofur took little to no notice of the strange luminescence.
Thorin, however, did. As did Nori who had fallen onto his ass as he began to laugh uproariously. Dwalin glared down at the felled thief, “What the hell’s so bleedin’ funny ya grass eatin’ wyrm?!”
Before the thief could calm enough to say anything Frodo had perked up his tiny curly head and beamed a giant smile at his Auntie, “I almost forgot!” He bounced down, dodging the old healer’s concerned hands and dove back into the bush. His tiny backside struggled as he suddenly came back out of the shrub, tiny legs trembling as he held a tiny bleating dear in his arms. “Can I keep ‘im Aunt Bilbo! I’ll take good care of him! I promise! He kept me company last night when I was all scared! He want’s to be my friend; he’ll love the Mountain! Please!!!!” The big blue eyes could barter blood from a dying man.
Bilbo stared in surprise as Kíli moved forward and poked at the tiny creature. “What is it?” Gimli wasn’t too far behind the curious Durin. Thorin was the only one in the clearing who seemed to be less curious and more pained as he rubbed his hand over his face muttering darkly under his breathe, “Thranduil will be insufferable after this.”
Before anyone could answer the heir, Frodo lost his grip and the tiny bleating creature fell to the mossy floor. Bleating suddenly turned into a deep chuckle as it shifted from tiny deer to tall blonde elf. Everyone in the clearing was instantly on alert as Bilbo and Frodo were thrown behind the armored guard. Frodo ended that by running through their arms and punching the elf in the leg, “Why didn’t you tell me you were an elf?!”
The blonde smiled as he bent to pick up his little friend, “I didn’t think it wise to add to you fright little one.” The hobbit’s pout was truly adorable as he nodded his assent to the fact as he hugged his previously tiny savior.
“Thank you for the care you gave my nephew last night Master Legolas. It is a debt I can never hope to repay,” Bilbo announced pushing through the ridiculous dwarrow around her. Really, the lad had found and protected her nephew all through the night in this plague-infested wood. Furthermore he was the youngest prince of Thranduil’s court. She’d wear shoes if he proved a threat.
Legolas gave the tiny mistress a bow as he handed her child back to her, “My pleasure I assure you. It isn’t every day I see such an odd little creature fell something ten times its size. What is his shift called Madame Baggins?”
Smiling Bilbo nodded as she nuzzled the curls on her nephew’s head, “Platypus. The males are venomous, though there have been records of shifter females developing the spurs and glands.”
“That’s all very curious but what the hell were you then? Aren’t you lot supposed to be some kind of majestic and awe inspiring horn headed thing?” Kíli, right up there with his Uncle for diplomacy.
Luckily the prince took no notice, merely shrugging, “It’s termed a Pudú. I’m of the smaller breed. It’s been my experience the smaller the creature the more it’s underestimated. It allows for a certain advantage.” This was said with a shared grin between hobbits and elves, the dwarrow less than inclined to share in the diminutive nonsense.
It was then Thorin had had all the weed-eater commentary he was going to allow and bid the elf a not so polite farewell, ushering his troops out of the glen. He barely concealed his flinch when the blonde bastard cheerily agreed to come visit Frodo when the youth called out to his new friend. He didn’t even bother to conceal the scowl on his face when Bilbo invited the young prince to tea later that same eve, extending the invitation to his father should he wish it.
Gimli was the only dwarf allowed near the dining hobbits when the Elf King and Prince came for refreshments as he was the only one who hadn’t made any kind of disparaging comment about Pudú and punting that morning. Kíli was allowed to join the next time when it proved he may have the diplomatic aptitude of his uncle but he’d discuss archery with an orc if given half a chance.