Elijah sat quietly in the carriage. He desperately needed time to gather his thoughts, but they were all in a jumble and images of his father kept floating in front of his eyes.

‘He was dead, he had to be dead, there is no hope.’

Elijah barely held back the moan from coming to his throat. He turned to Sean Wade, his new master and again felt a wave of familiarity hit him. Those green eyes, they seemed…

“What was your father’s name?” asked Sean.

Elijah came out of his thoughts and softly answered him. “Chris Lee.”

“You said something that your mother died recently?”

Elijah nodded, but didn’t answer right away. When he felt eyes upon him, Elijah looked up to meet Sean’s questioning gaze. “Three months ago. She developed a rare blood disease. Nothing could be done.”

Sean’s eyes filled with sadness and gently patted Elijah’s hand. “I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

Elijah wanted nothing more than to shout back, ‘what do you care?’ Instead Elijah found himself nodding, what would be the point? His new master, if he willed it, could have him beaten for any infraction at all. It was better to be quiet and obedient and the look for the next available chance to escape.

And he would. Somehow, he would get back to his father, he could still be alive. Four years! He could not wait more than another day for his freedom. He would escape this man somehow and find his way back to his father. Even if his father was dead, he deserved to be buried and mourned properly.

However, before he could make any escape, he must get his medallion back. Where had Sean put it? He could not leave without it for it was more precious to him then anything else in this world. It had been a gift to him on his fifteenth birthday.

Elijah returned to the present and glanced out the window of the carriage. He saw a gate in the distance followed by the appearance of a huge plantation. The place looked run down and it seemed that many people were walking about. Slaves? They looked uneasy as they passed. Elijah turned to look at Sean, who was trying to read a book he had purchased at Eastern Iceland. ‘The right way to plant a garden.’ He thought at first this was to be his new, ‘Home’. But the carriage quickly raced passed it.

“What was that place?” Asked Elijah.

Sean looked up from his book and glanced over Elijah’s shoulder to see the run down plantation.

“That is James Troy’s plantation. Count yourself lucky you did not find yourself going there.”

“How…much further?”

Sean shrugged, putting down the book to give Elijah his undivided attention. “About twenty miles. It is just after The Lord of Norwood‘s plantation.”

Elijah didn’t feel lucky. He felt alone.

His childhood had been so happy and blissful in Atlanta. Days spent fishing with Jake and Charlie and lying in the sun. His nights were for reading with father, and helping mama with supper. It had been peaceful and wonderful, idyllic. And now--it was gone. Gone. Forever. Tears filled his eyes yet again, but this time Elijah wearily wiped them away himself.

Staring at his master, Elijah felt like he had seen Sean before. A long time ago, but the memory would not come to him as to when and where.

“Do you know how to read?” asked Sean.

“Common, yes. My father taught me. I love to read.”

Sean nodded. “Excellent. I have a vast library on the estate. You can look them over at your leisure and read what ever you like. Just be sure to put them back after. Do you have any favorite hobbies?”

“I like to fish.”

Sean smiled. “Anything else?”

Elijah shrugged. “Father was teaching me how to play the harp.”

“Harp? That is a great instrument to play. Anything else?”

“Why do you keep asking me questions? Like my answer actually matters to you?”

Sean was a bit taken back by this question, but he recovered quickly and smiled at Elijah. “It does matter. I want you to be happy.”

“If that is so, you can give me back my medallion and my freedom.” The boy’s lips pursed together and Sean wanted so much to just reach over and kiss those enticing pouting lips.

But Sean sighed and, shook his head, reining in his desires. “I’m sorry. I already told you I cannot. Not yet.”

Elijah swallowed and looked away, anger flashing in his eyes as his jaw set firmly. Then his lips puffed out slightly and Sean felt the desire again rise, wanting to kiss that pout away.

He decided against it. His intrusion in such a way would not be welcome. Silence filled the carriage as Sean returned to reading his book.

Alone with his thoughts, Elijah thought again about his parents and felt the tears rushing to his eyes. Everything was hopeless. Images of the past few weeks seemed to be running all together and into each other. The memory of the auction itself had been the worst. Now, he wondered what was he going to face next?

How much can a man endure, before it became too much to bear?

***

The child saw the familiar carriage round the gated fence and trees, and at once he ran to the entrance. The gates were slightly ajar enabling him to step out onto the road. The driver spotted him and waved.

Hearing a shout, Sean looked up from his book and catching the sight of a small figure jumping up and down in the road, Sean ordered the driver to pull aside. Ignoring Elijah’s weariness, Sean grabbed a small pouch and opening the door stepped out of the carriage. A moment later a little figure dressed in a sleeveless white shirt and brown shorts and with a curly brown head was wrapped in his arms.

“Master Sean! You’re back!”

Sean laughed, nearly throwing the young boy into the air in joy. The boy was ten, but looked to be no more than eight years old.

“Yes I’m back. Frod’o, how are you little one! You sure are a sight for sore eyes. Is your Master and papa home?”

“Papa is. Lord Norwood is visiting Councilor Froyar in Celebrex.” The young boy with big blue eyes looked longingly at Sean and then glanced at the bag the man held in his hand. “Is that ¦for someone?” He asked innocently enough.

Laughing, Sean handed the bag to Frod’o. For you! Your favorite!”

Frod’o opened the bag and yelped in glee when he recognized his favorite treat.

“Sweets for a sweet.”

Glancing up, Sean ruffled the boy’s hair and looked around the estate. Still well cared for, but it was obvious the plantation was finally showing its years. The help were diligent with the gardens but the home needed paint and a few fixings. The houses for the slaves seemed in far better condition, but then that was Lord Norwood. He always saw to the care of his slaves more then to his own needs. Sean would have to talk to Hugo and the two of them would have to work together to convince the lord that his home also required upkeep.

Spotting several boys about Frod’o’s age looking curiously behind a tree, Sean returned his gaze to the child.

“Thank you, Master Sean! Thank you!” Cried a jubilant Frod’o.

“You’re welcome! Tell your papa, I expect him and Lord Norwood for a visit. I would love to see them Thursday for supper at 8, if they can manage it. If not, Saturday would be fine too. Same time.”

“The Lord should be back tonight. I will tell papa though as soon as I see him. He went to see if the East garden was ready for harvest.”

Sean ruffled the curls one more time and nodded. He didn’t know why, but ever since he first met this little rascal, three years ago, he held a special place in his heart. He had tried several times to convince Lord Norwood to sell the child to him. Sean felt that the boy needed more children to play with and his estate was littered with hundreds of children whereas Lord Norwood had merely a dozen or so and most of them were teenagers. But Lord Ian would not be convinced. He would not release Frod’o, not to anyone.

Sean knew it wasn’t that Lord Ian didn’t think Sean would love and care for the orphan, but that Ian and Hugo had grown attached to the child themselves.

The child was like their own grandchild and was treated not only with the utmost love and care, but as a part of the family.

Eventually, Sean came to his senses and realized that the boy had no better home than Norwood estates. Besides, he did have his three rascal friends to play with and perhaps that in itself was enough for Frod’o’s happiness.

Merr was a year older than Frod’o and was often found climbing trees and raiding the vegetable garden, specifically the carrot rows. Pip was an open stomach. The child, three years younger than his playmates, was always hungry. His never-ending appetite had him joining Merr into the vegetable garden. The two left unattended were almost always getting into trouble. Though never really into anything bad, they often could be found in the middle of some sort of mischief.

Then there was Samuel. He was as solid as the earth. Samuel’s father was a gardener, and it seemed the youngster, of the same age as Frod’o, was going to be following in his father’s footsteps. A gentle soul, Samuel adored and worshiped the ground Frod’o walked on. The four were nothing alike and yet they got along quite well. They were also fond of each other and very nearly inseparable. Yes, Sean supposed it was just as well, Frod’o remained here. He was well cared for. And here, Frod’o had learned to laugh again.

“Don’t forget to share them with Merr, Pip and Samuel”

Frod’o nodded and went for one more hug. Then he was off like lightening. Sean watched the boy run behind a tree where he was at once bear hugged by the three other young boys. Later, they would divide the bag of treats with each other. Sean could hear them in his mind’s eye, ‘One for you, one for you, one for you and one for me. Oh and one for Papa and--”

Smiling, Sean got back into the carriage. “Drive on!” he shouted. Once inside, Sean picked up his book and caught Elijah staring at Sean with deeply questioning eyes. “What?”

“Was that your son?”

Sean smiled. “No. He is not my son. Just a friend’s child.”

“He’s a slave. Why did he act like that? Like, he was more like a master then a slave?” replied Elijah. He had clearly seen the branding on the boys bare upper arm. Sean focused his attention back on the book.

“He was bought by James Troy a few years ago. His true history is not known to me, I only know that he was badly used and mistreated under his care. Eventually, James’ father saw the abuse and rescued the boy. He brought him here and here he has remained. The wounds and pains of his past will always haunt him, but with love and time, those wounds have healed leaving only a small bit of scaring. Yes, he is a slave by law, but I assure you in the home of Lord Norwood, that child is treated like a prince. He has those two old gentlemen wrapped around his finger. He is denied nothing.”

Elijah seemed unconvinced or perhaps he just simply could not understand the true difference between those who are slaves, and those who were more like servants and companions then slaves. In time, Sean hoped he would learn that difference.

The carriage once more was moving and Sean dropped all conversation, returning his attention to his book. Elijah turned away as well, looking out his window. His only thought was how to get his medallion back and escape.

***

“Frod’o! Frod’o, come here child.”

Hearing his name being called; Frod’o looked up from his cluster of friends and seeing the familiar figure standing on the porch, he handed over the candy to Samuel and hurried towards his papa.

“Papa!”

His father had returned from the east garden and looked a bit worn out, but otherwise in good spirits. Laughing excitedly, Frod’o ran into his arms, already reciting the words Sean had bid him.

“So, if the Lord and Papa can’t come Thursday, he bids you all to come on Saturday. At Eight.”

It all came out in a rush, and Hugo chuckled, all the while sitting down in one of the rockers.

An elderly woman dressed as a higher classed maid servant, stepped forward offering Hugo refreshment and then offered the same to Frod’o. Frod’o smiled at the woman and happily took a small glass of lemonade as well as a cookie.

“Thank you Aunt Emerald.”

After she had left them, Frod’o allowed himself to be pulled into his papa’s arms and settled comfortably into his lap. At once Frod’o leaned against the older man’s shoulder with a small smile on his lips and his eyes shining, looking up at the big man in adoration. Hugo himself could not hide the contentment on his face. For once upon a time this little boy knew only fear and shame and even a simple hug or embrace had only caused the child to weep and shake in terror.

“Master Sean gave me a whole bag of chocolates. I gave them mostly to Samuel, Merr and Pip. I did save a couple for myself and for you!” Having already eaten his cookie, Frod’o used his free hand and took out several pieces in his pocket and held them out to Hugo, who gingerly took one but set it aside next to his drink. Later, he would give the piece to Aunt Emerald’s granddaughter who was already on her way of being a great kitchen cook.

“Thank you for thinking of me and of your friends. That shows great character and much kindness. I am very proud of you. Not to mention remembering that long message Master Sean gave you. Did you say thank you to Master Sean for the treats?”

“Yes, Papa. I remembered my manners. Just like you taught me.”

Hugo smiled and kissed the young child on the forehead. For a long time, there was just silence. Hugo rocked the small child in his arms. For a moment it was just the two of them.

Hugo still remembered three years ago, that dark terrible night when they had arrived at the Troy estate. He still remembered hearing a child’s screams of terror and the horrible sardonic laughter of men.

Hugo had not needed to see to know what was happening. But it was his love, Ian, that had made it to the child first. His dearest Master had raised his cane like a sword and had beaten each guard nearly to death to stop the atrocity.

It was clearly too late, as Ian had pulled the small body into his arms. No spot of skin hadn’t been bruised, burned or tortured in some way. The lash marks were cut deep into the boy’s narrow back and the blood, there was blood everywhere.

Hugo had fled the estate with the child, hoping to get him some sort of medical treatment before it was too late. He had left his master to deal with his son’s guards and wayward son.

It was well into morning, when his lover had returned to the estate. Hugo and several of the medical staff at the plantation had worked for hours to stop the little boy’s bleeding. They had just left him sleeping in a nice clean bed. The boy had been thoroughly washed and in doing so, Hugo had found even more wounds, some older and some fresh. Such cruelty he had seen before, but never upon such a small child, a beautiful, innocent child. It was abhorrent.

Seeing Ian, Hugo only wanted one thing, to know that those men had paid for harming the child. Lord Ian of Norwood was not a man to be trifled with. He was honorable and kind, but when he was enraged, it was best not to stand in his way. And Hugo wanted justice done. No he demanded it!

Indeed, they didn’t. That very night, Lord Ian had all four guards hanged. The only thing that saved James that night, was the simple fact that Ian could not bring himself to execute his own son. But it had been close. On that event, Ian had fallen into Hugo’s arms and had cried his heart out. His soul had broken.

As if losing Orlando was not bad enough, as if having to send his daughter away from his side hadn’t torn his heart apart. But to find his oldest son nothing but an abomination had been the final straw.

For days his master and dearest love had remained isolated in his bedroom. Ian refused to come out and barely ate anything other than a few crusts of bread and a few sips of water. It had taken Billy and Sean to finally pull his lover out of the depression he had fallen into. Their kind neighbors had brought him back; and a small broken child that needed to be cared for.

Hugo stroked Frod’o’s hair and cheek and sighed. Those first few months had been difficult. Nearly every night Hugo and Ian had been awakened by frightened screams and weeping. Every day, while cleaning the child’s room they had found bits of food carefully hidden, just in case.

There had been days when Hugo had raised his voice at a lazy servant or a stray dog that had gotten into the kitchen, only to later find the terrified child trying to find a place to hide in a closet or under a table. Every quick movement brought the child to terror, every light touch was met with a flinch and followed by uncontrollable trembling.

The boy barely spoke. He would only say his name, and nod a yes or no. Other than that, he barely said a word. It was obvious to everyone that the child had suffered more than just that one night of torture by the drunken guards. Whenever Hugo or Ian would enter the room, the child’s terror increased ten fold. And every time, he heard Frod’o cry, Hugo wanted to forget who James Troy was and kill the man with his bare hands.

Yes, it had taken time. Much time, and much care and patience.

Some things they were able to fix. Keeping a candle burning in Frod’o's room and his door open. Sometimes even letting a little boy climb into the middle of the bed to protect him from the monsters under the bed.

Hugo had to train himself not to yell or raise his voice. He had to rein in his temper and learn to develop more patience. (Which was not easy since he was so set in his ways, he was well into his sixties after all!). He had to learn to bend down when speaking to Frod’o so that his height did not tower and overwhelm the boy.

Yes, these were all things that helped. But, it was his continual love that eventually won Frod’o over. It took more than a year, but then one day--one day trust came with one word.

“Papa!”

His heart hadn’t been the same since. He had never wanted a wife or children. But now, now he found that a day without Frod’o was a day without sun light. Hugo was happy and content now, at peace. He had everything a man could wish for. Even though he was a slave, he had Ian’s heart and the child had ownership of his soul.

And Hugo knew that he wasn’t the only heart that Frod’o had ensnared.. Why there was Aunt Emerald, who doted on the child. Showering him with kisses and hugs as well as baked cookies nearly every day. Uncle Bebo, Samuel’s father, was always ready to stop working in the gardens to tell Frod’o a story or two. Jasmine, Gretchen and Beth were always at ready and willing to wash up the little urchin, sew on a pulled button or mend a torn shirt from the child’s playful rough housing.

Not to mention those three rascals. Merr, Pip and dear Samuel to play with.

Frod’o in return was always trying to help Aunt Emerald in the kitchen; washing dishes and clearing the table, or assist Uncle Bebo in the garden. He was a good-hearted child, who always wanted to help. And he was quite fond of his new friends and playmates.

Hugo had used Frod’o's need to keep busy to benefit others. To give Frod’o confidence he let Frod’o work in the stables and as a messenger around the estate. He had even gotten Frod’o his own pony a few months ago to help him to get to certain places quickly and hopefully safer.

But of all the love Frod’o was given, it was to his Papa and Master Ian that his heart belonged. The boy had grown to not only trust, but to love his doting adopted parents. And Frodo’s love was given back equally in return.

The nightmares still came from time to time. Frod’o still got frightened and trembled when voices were raised, but the wounds were healing. Someday, Hugo hoped they would heal completely.

Only once did Frod’o ever speak of his past. Only once, nearly a year ago, Hugo had just given him his bath when Frod’o had spoken.

They had never spoken of it since. The only other thing Hugo knew was that the child had been sold at the auction to James Troy. He had been in his keep for nearly six months, before his rescue. How the child survived that long in such circumstances …

James Troy himself had raped the child, more than once. Hugo knew this without being told. The child had suffered greatly at the man’s lusts.

Hugo’s eyes filled with tears. Never again would he allow anyone to hurt his Frod’o. He was no young man anymore, and Hugo knew that his years upon this world were growing short, but he was going to make certain that Frod’o never suffered again.

“Papa, can I come with you and Master Ian when you go to Master Sean’s estate. I want to see the new library. Please?”

Hugo looked into those blue eyes and melted completely. No, there was nothing he could ever deny this child. Nothing. “Yes. You may.”

“Papa, don’t cry. I love you.”

“These are only happy tears, my little one. Happy for the day you came to me. Never forget, I love you.”

***

Elijah tried to ignore the happy shouts outside the carriage. For a moment he wanted to cling to Sean and try to hide. But Sean only smiled and tapped his hand.

The gates opened and Elijah looked out his window and saw Sean Solomon Wade’s estate. It was breathtaking. The beautiful home was huge but not imposing and had a lived in and cherished and well cared for quality to it.

Everything about it sang of grace, comfort and tranquility.

Gardens and fountains were everywhere and in the distance Elijah could see many other buildings. The aspect was that of a small village rather than an estate. Children seemed to be coming from everywhere, running behind them laughing and calling to each other joyously. To the front of them, Elijah could see several men and women standing by the entrance of the Plantation’s main house.

Everyone seemed happy that the master was coming home at last.

When they came to a halt, Sean was the first to rise and step out of the carriage. The man was greeted with hugs and laughter.

Elijah remained where he was, frozen in place. He glanced back at the gate and saw that the doors were already closed and locking into place. Two men took up position in front of it. Guards? Escaping this place was not going to be so easy.

“Bean!”

“The Master returns at last! How was the trip? Should we expect Master Bill’s to be coming for dinner.”

“No, not today Bean. Now where is my little Fox and Kitty? I am hurt they are not here to greet me?”

The man called Bean was much taller then Sean, having darker brown hair and though he was clean shaven he had a scar across his left cheek. He was well built and dressed in a soft grey shirt and worn brown pants. Not exactly handsome looking, more rugged and certainly a man that liked to do things with his hands.

“Fox put the little one down for a nap, and in the process, she fell asleep too. I am sure they will both be up in plenty of time for supper. Why don’t you come inside and I will see to your things for you.”

Bean moved towards the carriage, with purpose then stopped, when he spotted a figure in the doorway of the vehicle. Bean paused and looked back at Sean. Sean shrugged helplessly.

“I see, yet another stray has found its way home to you.”

Moving closer, Sean whispered into his ear. “And this one is a bit skittish. Be nice to him. He is special to me.”

“Aren’t they all special?” Smirked Bean.

“This one is different.”

Nodding, Bean turned back to the figure. “Well, are you going to stay there all day in this heat or come on out?”

Sean shot Bean a warning look and Bean took a step back with a welcoming gesture.

Sighing, and trying to keep his fear under control, Elijah further opened the door. With a bit of a shake to himself, the boy stepped out into the sunlight.

Those that were in clear view of his arrival, stopped in their tracks at the sight of the new slave. Bean included. All were lost to the beauty in the wide blue eyes, and then they were all aware of the fear that dwelled there, too.

Without hesitation, Sean took Elijah’s trembling hand into his own. It was an unthinking, protective gesture.

“Bean, everyone I want you to meet Elijah. Elijah, welcome to your new home. Welcome to Solomon’s estates.”

TBC