Ficlet: Hobbity Ever After
Jan. 11th, 2009 10:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bookishwenchSo, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
dramione_ldws was taking sign-ups yesterday (yup, I got in), and as a gag the mod said people had to write a drabble involving Draco/Hermione AU where they were Hobbits, immediately stating that it was, of course, completely a joke.
Uh, yeah, so I ended up doing it anyway.
If this doesn't fall under the "parody" clause in fanfiction, I don't know what does.
Hobbity Ever After
The Shire was abuzz from the Green Dragon to Farmer Maggot’s mushroom patch. No one had ever heard the like before, and as was the case with most Shire gossip, it was undoubtedly embellished rather more than less in its telling.
“Who ever heard of a Bracegirdle and a Proudfoot eloping, eh?” Fatty Bolger said, taking a puff of pipeweed.
“Aye,” one of the numerous Boffins replied, “and both so odd for their families. That Hermione, for example! Who’s known a Bracegirdle that loved books?”
“Oh, her father did, but only to borrow and not bring back,” the Gammer replied. “He bothered Mr. Bilbo with that for years, but I think he more liked the look of the things than what was in ‘em.”
“Yes, and that Draco Proudfoot is just as strange a character. Platinum hair on his feet, plus all that talk about how his parents were on the side of that Saruman foreigner in the last war,” Bolger said, shaking his head.
“You can’t blame him for his parents’ choices,” the Gammer said.
“Perhaps,” Frodo said from a shadowy corner, “we should leave them to their affairs and keep to our own.”
A general mutter of hard feelings spread around the room at the insult on the favorite Hobbit sport of rumor spreading, but still, a Baggins is a Baggins, and even if strange in his ways, the name commanded enough respect to still wagging tongues, at least until he left the Green Dragon for his melancholy walk home when all and sundry would feel comfortable discussing the topic with renewed zest.
“Hey, look! Here they come!” Fatty cried as he saw the newlyweds strolling down the road and towards the door. “But who’s that with them?”
The moment the door opened, silhouetting the admittedly attractive couple (though a few Hobbit maids had been know to cast aspersions on Hermione Bracegirdle’s hair, which was remarkably curly even for a Hobbit), a loud cheer arose and a call for drinks to celebrate the nuptials of the pair rang out, for if there is one thing Hobbits love more than gossip, it’s any excuse for drink, food, and general merriment.
“Thank you,” said the young Draco, who was barely in his tweens and rather young to be settling down, “and I shall join you in drinking a health to my bride, but someone must see to our best man as he’s not of a size to join the party inside.”
With curious glances all around, the Hobbits crowded to the door to see the great boots of an extremely tall person outside.
“What’s that?” the Gammer said embarrassingly loudly. “One of them Ents Samwise talks of?”
“Nah,” came a deep voice. “I’m jus’ Hagrid. Could do with some ale, though.”
Finding this a satisfactory response, the feasting continued well into the night. Granted, Frodo looked with some trepidation at the gold ring that rested on Hermione’s hand, but perhaps it was best not to inquire too closely into his reasons.
dramione_ldws was taking sign-ups yesterday (yup, I got in), and as a gag the mod said people had to write a drabble involving Draco/Hermione AU where they were Hobbits, immediately stating that it was, of course, completely a joke.Uh, yeah, so I ended up doing it anyway.
If this doesn't fall under the "parody" clause in fanfiction, I don't know what does.
The Shire was abuzz from the Green Dragon to Farmer Maggot’s mushroom patch. No one had ever heard the like before, and as was the case with most Shire gossip, it was undoubtedly embellished rather more than less in its telling.
“Who ever heard of a Bracegirdle and a Proudfoot eloping, eh?” Fatty Bolger said, taking a puff of pipeweed.
“Aye,” one of the numerous Boffins replied, “and both so odd for their families. That Hermione, for example! Who’s known a Bracegirdle that loved books?”
“Oh, her father did, but only to borrow and not bring back,” the Gammer replied. “He bothered Mr. Bilbo with that for years, but I think he more liked the look of the things than what was in ‘em.”
“Yes, and that Draco Proudfoot is just as strange a character. Platinum hair on his feet, plus all that talk about how his parents were on the side of that Saruman foreigner in the last war,” Bolger said, shaking his head.
“You can’t blame him for his parents’ choices,” the Gammer said.
“Perhaps,” Frodo said from a shadowy corner, “we should leave them to their affairs and keep to our own.”
A general mutter of hard feelings spread around the room at the insult on the favorite Hobbit sport of rumor spreading, but still, a Baggins is a Baggins, and even if strange in his ways, the name commanded enough respect to still wagging tongues, at least until he left the Green Dragon for his melancholy walk home when all and sundry would feel comfortable discussing the topic with renewed zest.
“Hey, look! Here they come!” Fatty cried as he saw the newlyweds strolling down the road and towards the door. “But who’s that with them?”
The moment the door opened, silhouetting the admittedly attractive couple (though a few Hobbit maids had been know to cast aspersions on Hermione Bracegirdle’s hair, which was remarkably curly even for a Hobbit), a loud cheer arose and a call for drinks to celebrate the nuptials of the pair rang out, for if there is one thing Hobbits love more than gossip, it’s any excuse for drink, food, and general merriment.
“Thank you,” said the young Draco, who was barely in his tweens and rather young to be settling down, “and I shall join you in drinking a health to my bride, but someone must see to our best man as he’s not of a size to join the party inside.”
With curious glances all around, the Hobbits crowded to the door to see the great boots of an extremely tall person outside.
“What’s that?” the Gammer said embarrassingly loudly. “One of them Ents Samwise talks of?”
“Nah,” came a deep voice. “I’m jus’ Hagrid. Could do with some ale, though.”
Finding this a satisfactory response, the feasting continued well into the night. Granted, Frodo looked with some trepidation at the gold ring that rested on Hermione’s hand, but perhaps it was best not to inquire too closely into his reasons.
