Title: A State of Dress for a Meeting of State
Topic: Short and Sweet
Author's Notes: Both RiverOtter and I count this as having 373 words! For Mews for her birthday!
Summary: When the King requires Frodo Baggins to dress appropriately for a meeting with newly arrived envoys to the Citadel of Minas Tirith, Frodo considers balking completely!
Word Count: 373
“Sam, is this really necessary?”
“You heard Lord Strider, Master.”
Frodo sighed. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, finally opened them again, a fatalistic expression on his face, and gave a brief nod.
Pippin helped remove the shirt Frodo had been wearing. Once the quilted silk garment designed to be worn under Frodo’s mithril corslet was slipped over his head, Pippin left Sam to tie the laces at the neck while he brought a shirt of dark blue embroidered about the placket, cuffs, and hem with white stars. This they helped Frodo to don, and then the corslet itself. The crystals of the corslet shone in splendor against the blue of the placket and long sleeves. Then there was the overtunic, which was embroidered with stylized renditions of the Two Trees, Telperion on the right and Laurelin to the left. Now the glittering belt that matched the corslet was carefully fastened about Frodo’s now slender waist, and to it was fixed Sting’s sheath.
Sam saw to it that Frodo’s hair was carefully brushed both upon Frodo’s head and his feet while Pippin fetched the Circlet of Honor that Frodo was to wear. The older Hobbit eyed it with distaste, ready once more to balk. “No, Pippin—not that as well!”
Pippin gave a wry smile. “I fear that you are left with no choice in the matter, my beloved cousin. Our Lord Strider insists that if he must dress up to meet these new envoys, so must you. After all, I suspect they want to see you as much as they do the new Lord King Elessar Envinyatar Telcontar.”
“It’s rank silliness, all this mess and bebotherment,” Frodo grumbled as the mithril coronet was settled upon his brows.
“There!” Pippin said, admiring the effect of the mithril against Frodo’s dark curls. “And if you don’t indeed look the right Prince of the West they called you at Cormallen!”
“I’d rather stay here and work on my notes for Bilbo,” Frodo objected.
But his younger cousin and Sam were shaking their heads. “You won’t be getting out of this ceremony, Frodo Baggins!” Pippin warned.
“My only consolation now is that Sam must dress up, too!” Frodo announced.
Sam groaned, and Pippin laughed.