francesbarrattsfanfiction3

Frances Barratt' s Fanfiction Page 3
-Moving Home-

-MOVING HOME-
 by Frances Barratt 
 Part 1
 
It was already dark by the time the pony-cart reached Frogmorton and that was only half-way to Hobbiton.  Frodo was uneasy.  In the pocket of his waistcoat he carried the sealed letter for Bilbo; this time, he hoped to deliver it in person and await the reaction.  The deception had gone on far too long and the reason for it still escaped him.  Perhaps Bilbo had the answer.  He was also concerned for Jess.  Her commitment to him seemed unconditional, so would it bode ill for her when her complicity in his leaving became common knowledge?  During the lengthy journey, her fatigue had become apparent; she grew quieter and her head to droop; so he'd taken her into the crook of his arm, her head cushioned against his chest.  It had seemed the sensible -- if gallant -- thing to do and now she was fast asleep.  Her mother had eyed him at first but without comment and the journey had passed in silence.  Time for Frodo to reflect upon his decision.
     "I'm taking a rest here," the Carter called over his shoulder to his passengers.  "Pony needs watering and so do I!  Time to stretch your legs, lad."
     "For how long?" Frodo questioned; and as he spoke, he felt Jess stir.
     "Half an hour?" the Carter queried.  He knew the young Hobbit was anxious to reach Hobbiton and, judging by his companion's lethargy, she too would be glad to reach journey's end.
     "If we must," Frodo grudgingly agreed.  Gently, he raised Jess into a sitting position.  "We've stopped for a rest," he whispered to her.
     She moaned and yawned; then her eyes opened.  "How far have we come?"
     "We're at Frogmorton."
     "So long..." she murmured, rubbing at her eyes.  "I'm sorry, Frodo; was I asleep?"
     "Yes, " he grinned.
     "I'd hoped we were at least at Bywater, then we'd only have about half an hour to travel."  She sighed and caught it on a breath.
     "You're tired," Frodo stated.
     "I always am by the time we get here," yet she roused herself.
     He studied her -- perhaps for the first time realising how fragile she appeared.  His heart skipped a beat.  Fourteen years old was no age to be in her state of health; some of the oldest Hobbits were more sprightly.  Then he calmed; if he were living in Hobbiton then she need not make the weekly journey to meet him, except... she hadn't come to meet him -- not in the beginning.  Their meeting was by chance; she and her mother were visiting her Uncle.  In all that time, Frodo had only heard one mention of Jess's father: Halfred.  Jolting out of his mind-wanderings, Frodo realised that Jess was no longer on the cart; he called out her name with some urgency as he scrambled from the back of the conveyance.
     "I'm here."  Jess walked towards him from having petted the pony.  "You look worried, Frodo."
     He was, but attempted to shrug it off.  "I thought you'd left me," he said, trying to smile.
     "As if I would!" and she linked an arm through his.  "Come on, let's have a cup of tea to warm us and you can tell me what you hope to say to Mister Bilbo."
     "Hello?" he suggested wryly.
     She giggled.  "You'll have to say more than that."
     "I'll have to be diplomatic too; I don't know how matters stand between him and my Brandybuck kin."  They'd reached the small inn.  "He may regard me as an ungrateful troublemaker; after all, it's my word against theirs."  Stepping into the warmth and light of the hostelry, Frodo blinked.  "Is it always this noisy?" he asked of Jess.
     "Noisy?  Have you never been to an inn?"
     Frodo shook his head.
     "At the Green Dragon in Hobbiton they serve ale," Jess said as it it were a sin.  "I'm not allowed inside," she added.
     "Why?"
     Her eyes widened and she did a double-take.  "I never knew you'd led such a sheltered life.  We're too young, Frodo."
     "When can we go then?"
     "When we're twenty-five."
     "Twenty-five!" Frodo echoed.  "That's more than ten years away," as he stopped dead in his tracks.
     "Eleven."  She shuddered to a halt beside him.
     It was Frodo's turn to do the double-take.  "And I thought you were uneducated!" he smiled.
     "Un-lettered; I can count but not write my letters down."
     "Then I shall have to teach you.  When I am in Hobbiton, I shall begin your lessons," he vowed.
     Jess didn't respond, she simply carried on to join her mother at a table where a pot of tea and fresh scones were waiting.  "We'll need another cup, Mother."
     "I wasn't sure he was coming inside," Jade Goodchild said churlishly.  "You'd best ask for one then."
     Reaching the table, Frodo read the expression on Mistress Goodchild's face and made an excuse.  "It doesn't matter, I'm not thirsty.  Jess, I'll wait outside for you," and he turned on his heel.  All his joy seemed to evaporate as the scowl remained imprinted in his mind.  He'd not realised the depth of her disapproval but did not hear her words spoken as he left the inn.
     "You shouldn't encourage him, Jess."
     "Encourage him?  To do what, Mother?"
     "You know what I mean.  It was fine at first: when you were children; but... he looks at you different now."
     Jess hung her head.  She'd been so happy until the reminder.
 
TO BE CONTINUED...

Frodo is happy and in love with Jessamine Goodchild

- MOVING HOME-
 by Frances Barratt
  Part 2
 
Subdued by fatigue, Jess met up with Frodo at the cart.  Her wan face sought his for any signs of annoyance.  "Mother's a mite over-protective of me," she began.
     Frodo squinted at her, barely able to see her face in the shadows cast by the inn.  "Suspicious of me too, it would seem."
     "You heard?"
     "I guessed."
     "How?"
     He put his back against the cart and folded his arms across his chest.  "I know the look; it isn't one of confidence or pleasure.  Why has her attitude towards me changed?"
     "We're no longer children."
     "Barely anything more!  I'm still treated as one!"
     "Don't get angry with me, Frodo."
     His heart softened.  "I'm not angry with you.  What does she expect me to do? that's what I'd like to know."
     Jess moved closer.  Her face came into the lamplight.  "She thinks..."  She sighed; to voice it might be presumptuous.  "She believes that you care too much for me."
     "Too much?  We're friends, should I not care?" he said, growing agitated.
     "Easy, Frodo," she pleaded.  "Mother sees more in your eyes than pure friendship."
     He blushed.  "Why should it matter?  Is no one allowed to love you?"
     "Yes... I suppose so... but I cannot love you."
     "I felt that you did."
     She turned away, saying: "I must never have a family of my own."
     "Ah."  Pushing away from the cart, he reached for her arm and turned her towards him.  "When we are old enough I will wed with you," he vowed.
     Screwing up her eyes, she shot back: "Did you not hear what I said?  No children; no marriage, nothing to set my heart racing!  I could never run as other children did or I would become faint and be ill for days.  You did not know me then," she murmured.  "Gentle walking is fine -- and good for me -- anything more..." and she raised her palms to the sky.  "We must remain just friends, Frodo."
     He shook his head.  "You will need more than a friend later in time.  Your mother will grow old and not be able to care for you.  I can do that; I will look after you."
     "And waste your life?"
     "It is mine to do with as I wish."
     "You would hate me for being a burden."
     He stroked her cheek with a fingertip.  "I could never hate you."
     As her eyes filled with tears, blotting out her vision of him, her mind processed his promises.  Both of them were but fourteen years in this life; too young to make such commitments or even to understand the gravity of them.  In two, four or even six years hence, either one might feel differently.  Frodo would have maids vying for his attention and she would have to step back and allow him to evaluate their worth.  Sniffing, she wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand and said: "I can only accept your promise of friendship and -- if the need arises -- protection, anything more needs precious time for it to ferment and mature.  Uncork wine too soon and it spoils."
     "Keep it too long and it can turn to vinegar."
     "Oh there's no danger of that!  I am not destined for a full Hobbit-span of life."
     Frodo gulped, not liking what lay behind her words.  "So?  Not all Hobbits celebrate a hundredth birthday!" he said in false optimism.
     "I may not make half -- or even a quarter of that," she replied.
     Swallowing hurt.  He tried coughing up the unwelcome lump in his throat.  "All the more reason for me to be by your side for the next eleven years," he added.
     "As friends?  If you fall in love then you have no obligations towards me."
     "I won't fall in love again nor will I wed; unless it be with you."
     Jess knew there was no point in arguing with him, his mind was made up and she had to accept his chivalrous gesture -- even though she doubted he could hold to it.  The older he became the harder it would be for him to deny his natural longings; and she could not fulfil them...
 
TO BE CONTINUED...

Frodo is sad and hurt that Jessamine can't marry him, because of her weak health

-MOVING HOME-
 by Frances Barratt
  Part 3
 
Lamps and lanterns flickered in the streets of Bywater as the pony-cart rumbled on and into the main square; around which nestled the usual group of Hobbit-holes.  One though, stood out from the others, sporting a sign suspended from its thatched roof; a sign bearing the image of a green dragon.  The Carter pulled up his conveyance and turned on his seat.  Mother and daughter were fast asleep, only the Orphan remained awake.
     Frodo caught the Carter's eye.  "Is this Hobbiton?" he asked.
     "No; Bywater.  Hobbiton's a bit up the road but I need a mug of ale to quench my thirst."
     "But, we need to reach Hobbiton!" said Frodo in dismay.
     Jade Goodchild stirred; mumbled then muttered: "What's wrong?  Are we there yet?"
     "No!" answered Frodo sharply.
     She turned her attention to the Carter.  "I paid you to take us straight to Hobbiton."
     He scowled; but caught between the glare of his two passengers he conceded defeat.  "Oh, very well," but he chuntered to himself all the same; something about: 'females' and 'ungrateful children'.
     Frodo happened to hear the remark aimed at himself and challenged it.  "Do not pass judgement on a matter of which you know nothing!"
     Taken aback, the Carter spluttered, seeking the words to throw back at a mere lad.  "Bah!" he uttered.  "You won't amount to anything with such churlish behaviour," he denounced.  "I thought they had better manners at Brandy Hall!" 
     "Are we to proceed?" Jade put in, sparing a moment to smile her approval at Frodo.  "My daughter is to weary to walk or I'd leave your company!"
     Proceed they did and soon the hills beneath which Hobbiton nestled, rose gently before them -- to Frodo's wonder and sensory pleasure.  He thought the vista was beautiful; even in the moonlight, so it must be paradise by daylight.  Yes; it felt like home already.  However, desire and execution are seldom complementary, as Frodo would soon discover.  Journey's end for the Goodchilds was a row of Hobbit-holes set up in the hill.  To reach them the cart passed by one, larger domicile with a green door, piquing his curiosity.
     "That's Bag End," Jade enlightened, seeing how the Orphan's gaze refused to leave it.
     "Bilbo lives there," he whispered.  "Stop!" and he stood up.
     "Easy, Frodo; you can't just go knocking on his door at this hour.  Best leave it until morning.  I'm taking you to my sister-in-law's house."
     "What?"
     The Gamgee's house.  Bell is my husband's sister; she's wed to Hamfast Gamgee -- you remember me mentioning our Sam," she said.  "He's their youngest son."
     Frodo just nodded.  So near yet so far from his objective.  Then he put it into perspective.  At least he was in Hobbiton.  He'd waited two years, what were a few more hours?  He agreed and the cart bore him along Bagshot Row, pausing outside number three.
     Jade woke Jess.  "Come on, my lamb, time to get down.  I'm taking Frodo to our Bell then we're going home."
     Jess yawned, opened her eyes and met Frodo's.  Being eye to eye with him sent a quivering straight through her; there was such a depth of warmth in them.  Whoever said that eyes were the mirror of the soul never spoke a truer word.  One look into those blue eyes and you could read Frodo Baggins as surely as if he were an open book -- she supposed.  She didn't need to read to know his heart and soul.
     The 'open book' helped Jess from the cart and the three of them stood at the circular door.  Jade knocked upon it then opened it and went inside.  Frodo felt Jess take his hand in hers and he was led inside.  The Gamgee family looked up and a chorus of greetings met the relatives.  One of the lads rose from a stool by the hearth and shambled towards Frodo.
     "Hullo," he said.  "I'm Sam; who are you?"
     "Frodo; Frodo Baggins."
     " 'Ave you come to stay?"
     "I... I don't know," and he looked beyond the fair-haired lad.
     "He can stay, can't he, Mam?" the eager lad cried, running towards the portly female who bore a remarkable resemblance to the Ferry Master.
     Stunned, not knowing how to respond, Frodo stood stock still.  Pressure from Jess's fingers sent his gaze towards her.
     "They'll look after you," she said quietly.  "Aunt Bell, this is my friend Frodo," she announced.
     "Come in, lad; I've 'eard so much about you."
     He grinned sheepishly responding with: "Oh."
     Bell Gamgee smiled as only mothers do.  "Come by the fire.  Are you hungry?  Thirsty?" she asked him.
     "Just thirsty.  Thank you."  He heard the giggle from the younger members of the clan and counted them: five; two girls and three boys.  Suddenly, he envied them all; being an only child had been more a lonely business than not.
     "You can 'ave my stool," young Sam offered, beaming at Frodo.
     He thanked the lad and sat down.  This was a warmer welcome to a stranger that he'd received from kin at Brandy Hall and it overwhelmed him.  He felt sick and dizzy.  The almost-forgotten beating he'd taken now felt fresher than before.  His ears buzzed and it was as if he was swaying on the stool.  Hot and cold vied for precedence and the world crowded in...
 
TO BE CONTINUED...

-MOVING HOME-
by Frances Barratt 
Part 4
 
Frodo was making a grand supper of the fingernails of his left hand when Bell Gamgee brought in a tray of tea.
     "Thought you weren't 'ungry," she said, setting down the tray.
     "I'm not," and he hid his hands underneath the table.
     "No wonder you came over all faint if that's all you bin eatin'!"
     "I told you: I didn't faint," he insisted.  One hand now appeared again.
     "Ar, an' my name's not Harebell Gamgee.  I always was round -- like the flower," she explained.
     Frodo pursed his lips before attacking another nail.
     "'Ere, eat these," Bell said, pushing a plate of biscuits towards him.
     He looked at her; two years without a mother and he'd almost forgotten the gentle orders.  He smiled; reprieved the damaged fingernails and picked up a biscuit instead.  "Girls faint," he mumbled.
     "So do injured boys," Bell answered back.  "From what I 'ear, you've 'ad quite a time of it lately.  Farmer Maggot was the last straw."
     "No, my cousin's deceit."
     "Mebbe."  She sat down close to Frodo and leaned towards him.  "You'll be safe 'ere.  We can go an' see Mister Bilbo in the mornin' an' it'll all come to rights."   She tapped his hand as if to ensure it, like she were casting a spell.
     "Are you a wizard?" he asked, not knowing where the thought came from.
     "Bless you, no!" and she glanced around at the assembled clan.  "But we do know one..."
     Jade eased her daughter into a more comfortable position in her lap.  "I'd best get Jess home now, Bell.  You'll be fine here, Frodo," she added, nodding to him.
     "Can Jess come with me tomorrow?  When I go to see Bilbo," he asked eagerly.
     Jade hesitated.  "We'll see.  Today has been a drain on her energy; we can't put her through anymore excitement."
     "Please."  His eyes widened as he spoke.  Then he put a hand to his forehead.
     Bell was on her feet in a second.  "You goin' again, lad?" she said, steadying him on his stool.  "Put your 'ead between your knees."
     But he shook her off.  "I'm fine; really, no more... fainting," he admitted.  "Mistress Goodchild, Jess knows Bilbo, she could speak on my behalf," he reasoned.
     "As I said: we'll see how she is in the morning.  If she's not here by ten o'clock, then go to Bag End without her."  Without further ado, Jade picked up her daughter as if she were no more than a stuffed toy and departed the Gamgee house.
     Frodo gaped as his friend was taken away; then someone was tugging at his shirtsleeve.  He turned.  It was young Sam.
     "She'll come, Frodo; our Jess won't let you down."  He beamed at the Orphan then added: "I'll fetch 'er for you."
     "Thank you, Sam, you're kind."
     "Kind?  It's what friends do.  That's what Jess 'as always said.  Friends 'elp each other."
     Frodo found a smile.  "So; we're friends, Sam?"
     The lad lowered his eyes.  The room had gone silent.  Had he presumed too much?
     "I'd be proud to call you 'friend'," Frodo decided.
     Sam's fair head shot up and his smile grew broader.  "I won't let you down, Mister Frodo," he declared.  "I'd die first!" came the youthful vow.
     Frodo giggled.  "I'd never ask that much of you, Sam -- but thank you," and he clapped the lad on the shoulder.  Never had friendship had such a swift beginning; nor would its foundations crumble.  Samwise Gamgee and Frodo Baggins forged a bond of mutual respect that Saturday night.
     "Best find you a place to sleep," Bell cut in.  "Sam, fetch a blanket out of the big chest then take the cushions from your Dad's chair; they'll do as a pillow."
     "Mister Frodo can 'ave my bed," Sam offered; the sudden formality rolling off his tongue as if he'd spoken it all his short life.
     "I couldn't..." Frodo protested.  "A blanket by the hearth will suffice for one night," and he saw Sam frown.  "It will be enough," he clarified.  "I'm tired anyway."
     "What's the boy doin' 'ere?" a male voice put in.
     "Hamfast, my love, we are bein' charitable to a poor orphan," Bell told him, crossing the room to intercept his route to Frodo.  "He's my brother's friend: Frodo Baggins; you recall us talkin' about 'im."
     "Hm; snatched by them Brandybucks -- two years since," and he eyed Frodo.  "What you don' 'ere, lad?"
     Frodo straightened his back.  "I came to see my Uncle Bilbo, but have been offered accommodation here on account of the late hour," he said.
     Hamfast Gamgee laughed -- loudly.  His family joined in.  "Talks like a Brandybuck, don't 'e?" he said.  "Though old Bilbo Baggins can spout a pretty stream when it suits 'im.  So... Frodo, which are you: Baggins or Brandybuck?"
     "Baggins," came the positive response.
     The master of the house had a twinkle in his eye as he looked at his wife.  "Waifs and strays; your Tiller collects 'em like kids collect conkers.  Ah well, never let it be said the Gaffer don't 'ave an 'eart.  You eat much, lad?"
     "No, sir."
     "Hamfast, he's only here tonight," Bell explained.
     "I doubt it; Bilbo Baggins don't care for... visitors."
     Frodo got to his feet.  "If my Uncle won't see me -- or doesn't want me, then I shall make other arrangements.  One night was the bargain; is that not right, Mistress Gamgee?"
     "Aye, it is."
     "Then one night is all I shall stay -- with your leave, sir."
     "How can I refuse such a courtly young man?  Stay, and welcome."
 
TO BE CONTINUED...

Arriving in Hobbiton Town Centre

-MOVING HOME-
 by Frances Barratt 
 Part 5
 
Waking to the aroma of bacon being fried, Frodo sat up in his makeshift bed and looked for the source of the smell.
     "Good mornin'," Bell Gamgee called across the room.  "Thought as 'ow the smell of breakfast might wake you."
     "What time is it?" he asked casually, stretching his arms above his head.
     "Nigh on ten o'clock."
     He scrambled to his feet; snatched his jacket from a chair and was all set to run outside when the doorway was blocked by Sam.
     "Hullo," the young Gamgee said, smiling broadly at Frodo.
     "Is she with you?" questioned the Orphan.
     "Didn't I promise to fetch 'er?  Ar, she's 'ere," and he stepped into the room.
     "Hello, Frodo; are you rested?" Jess asked sweetly.
     "Well rested -- are you?"
     "I shall manage."  She approached her friend.  "Are you ready for this adventure?"
     "Adventure?  I hope never to go on an adventure if they seem as perilous as this!" he smiled.
     "Mister Bilbo may scowl but he won't bite.  He's not a Hobbit to throw missiles either, but you'll be in no doubt of any disapproval."
     "Don't say such things, Jess!  I can't even recall what he looks like."
     "Round face; bright eyes and greying hair."  It wasn't much of a description but as much as Jess thought relevant.  "He'll be ninety-two in ten days' time."
     "The twenty-second?" Frodo queried in surprise.  "So that's the relative with whom I share my birthday!" and he laughed.  "I'd almost forgotten.  I ought to have brought him a gift as a token of mine," since Hobbits give out gifts on their birthdays.
     "Shall we go then?" she said.  "Sam, would you like to come too?"
     "Yes please!" the cheery lad replied.  "The Gaffer don't always let me go with 'im."
     Jess explained to Frodo: "The Gamgees have long since been gardeners to the Bagginses.  Uncle Hamfast isn't sure yet which one of his boys will have the talent to follow in his footsteps.  Though," and she looked at Sam, "I reckon I know who it should be."
     Sam blushed; shuffled his feet and rammed his hands into his trouser pockets; the last earning a rebuke from his mother.
     Frodo couldn't help but smile.  "My mother used to moan at me too; she said I'd tear the pockets if I crammed my hands into them.  I never did," he whispered to Sam, "but never let her see me do it.  Mothers worry; they see danger and the potential for more work to come their way."
     The confidence heartened Sam; he liked Frodo Baggins even more and trotted after him and Jess like some obedient puppy.  Catching up with them in the lane leading down to Bag End, he called out Jess's name.  "What will you say to Mister Bilbo?" he asked her.
     "That his relative wishes to talk with him on an important matter," she replied; her answer having been carefully worked out in advance.
     Sam daren't ask what that might be so fell into step beside his cousin, putting her between him and Frodo like the proverbial rose between two thorns.  But Sam knew a real 'Rose'; a Rose who had caught his attention just the way he knew that Jess had caught the attention of Frodo Baggins.  Youth did not preclude these Hobbits from admiring one of the opposite gender.  So Sam took his cousin's hand; encouraging Frodo to hold her other one, and he initiated a marching song -- well, it was a travelling song since Hobbits did not march to war...
     The grassy bank gave way to wattle-fencing leading to a narrow, triple-squared construction that was a gate, topped by a triangular shape; though what purpose it served was not obvious until Jess put her hand on it -- it made a useful handle.  She pushed on it and the gate swung open between the support posts, its tops carved into globe shapes.  She'd reached the third of the stone steps set into the bank forming the front garden of Bag End, when she realised that neither of her companions was following her.  Turning, she looked down at them both; Sam still in the lane and Frodo beside the open gate, one foot poised on the bottom step.
     "Are you two silly geese going to stay there all morning?"
     "Mister Frodo must go first," Sam told her.
     She tilted her head to one side.  "Frodo?  The moment has come."
     He looked up at her; the world seeming to have grown as she had; Jess and everything around her seemed immense.  "I... I can't."
     "'Course you can," she said, holding out her hand.  "Sam, you come with him."
     Two Hobbits hovered at the foot of the steps.  The dark-haired one frowned at the fair-haired one, looked up at the girl with hair the colour of charcoal, took a deep breath and then his first step.
     "I should think so," Jess mocked them.  "You'd think I was leading you into a dragon's lair!"
     Frodo sniggered.  Sam kept quiet.  Jess knocked on the green door.  All three huddled together on the step and waited...
     With a creaking noise, the big door swung complaining on its hinges and another Hobbit appeared.  A young Hobbit.
     "Yes?"
     "We're here to see Mister Bilbo Baggins," Jess said confidently.
     "Who's he?" Frodo queried as the young Hobbit went back inside.
     "Um," Jess hesitated.  "Meriadoc -- I think," she said.
     "Meridadoc?" Frodo repeated.  "Meridadoc Brandybuck!  Jess, what game is this?"
     "Now 'old on," Sam defended.  "Not all them Brandybucks are..." but he didn't finish; the scowl from Jess was enough to silence him.
     Meriadoc reappeared.  "He'll see you -- on your own," he said, pointing at Frodo.
     "You know who I am?" the puzzled Orphan queried.
     "Yes; why, don't you know who I am?"
     "I didn't."
     "Hm.  Long story, Frodo Baggins; but Bilbo had best tell it."
     "Must I go alone?"
     "It's family business -- no disrespect to your friends -- so, yes, he wants to see you on your own."  Meriadoc smiled.  "I'm on my way home anyway," and he stepped past Frodo.  "Sam, you got those plants my mother wanted?"
     "Y-yes," the bewildered apprentice-gardener replied.
     "Right then let's get them.  Nice to meet you at last, Frodo," he said in all honesty.  "Hello, Jess, are you well today?"
     And at the greeting, Frodo's eyes narrowed.  But she responded warmly so didn't seem to regard this Meriadoc as any threat.  Then, they'd gone and he was left to face his older relative.
     "Are you coming in or not?" a voice shouted.  "There's an awful draught getting in!"
     Responding to the order, Frodo closed the green door and faced the passages synonymous with all hobbit-holes.  Selecting to go left, he found himself in the parlour and face to face with an old Hobbit he assumed to be Bilbo Baggins.  "H-hello," he ventured, holding out a hand.  "I'm Frodo."
     "Don't I know it!" and he took a few paces forward.  Suddenly his stern demenour evaporated.  "Mercy!" he cried, "but you're Prim's son and no mistake," only he turned away from the lad.
     "Bilbo?  Is something wrong?"  There was -- as he was about to learn.
 
TO BE CONTINUED...

-MOVING HOME-
by Frances Barratt
Part 6
 
Bilbo Baggins paced the floor of his parlour; back and forth across the carpet like a condemned creature.  Frodo stood watching from a distance: the safety of the main hallway; the open door at his back for a speedy retreat lest the fractious Hobbit make a sudden move in his direction.  It was the silence of the whole business that alarmed Frodo; ranting, raving and screams of accusation, he was well accustomed to, but the coldness of what he perceived as anger, was alien to him.  He didn't know whether to move: to remain or leave; to speak or not.  Courage had fled the moment he'd crossed the threshold.  What's more, there was no eye-contact; no chance to judge Bilbo's possible reaction to anything Frodo might do or say.
     "It won't do," Bilbo suddenly said, coming to a halt before the huge fireplace and staring straight at Frodo.  "Coming here out of the blue like this; I can't be having it, I tell you."
     "I've written enough times to ask if we could meet," Frodo threw back as courage swept in.
     "Have you?" came the sarcastic response.  "Then why did you not heed any of my replies?"
     "Ah," and the matter of the forged letters had been broached.
     "You see, it's just as I thought!  Selfish!  Totally selfish!  Just like your father!"  The ranting had begun.
     Frodo stood his ground; he was not about to be lured into the viper's den -- not yet anyway.  "Did you explain why I was not to come?" he challenged.
     "Often."
     "You see, the only letters I received from you were just polite scribbles asking about my welfare.  Not once did you mention anything about us not meeting!"  Frodo's voice had risen to a squeak and he nervosly cleared his throat.
     Bilbo edged forward.  "What?" he snapped.  "I set it down plain enough."
     "No."
     The round face became puckered like a wizened apple.  "You can read?" he snarled.
     "Yes; Westron and a little Elvish."
     Bilbo crept closer scrutinising his young relative's face for any signs of deceit.  "Then your memory has been playing you tricks," he decided.
     "No; I kept the letters -- all of them -- they are in my satchel at the Gamgees' house."  He eyed Bilbo.  "Only the last one is -- apparently -- genuine."
     "Genuine?" Bilbo echoed.
     "Jess tells me it is written by your hand; the others are not."
     "What?"
     "I suspect that my cousin has been forging the 'replies'; the reason for it I cannot fathom."
     "Oh I can!"
     Emboldened by the prospect of enlightenment, Frodo left the sanctuary of the passage and entered the parlour.  "Tell me," he begged.
     "Hmph!  It's a long enough tale."
     "Then you had best begin."
     "Your manners are lacking, my lad," Bilbo decried.  "Even your father maintained his manners."
     "By your tone I take it that you and he did not see eye to eye."
     Bilbo laughed; a hollow sound without warmth or humour.  "That is putting it mildly!" he declared.  "We were ever rivals for all our age difference of some..." as he paused to calculate it.  "Eighteen years, he deduced.
     "Seredic is twenty years my elder," Frodo reminded.  "He never liked me.  Why, Bilbo?  What bad blood lies between the Bagginses and Brandybucks?"
     Turning aside, Bilbo sat on a bench set along one side of the table, the top of which was strewn with bound volumes, notebooks, sheets of paper and a map.  He lovingly touched the map and bowed his head.  "Primula," he muttered.
     "My mother?"  Advancing upon the older Hobbit, Frodo tilted his head and said: "What has my mother got to do with this?"
     "She was the youngest of the clan and your Uncle Saradas was very protective of her.  It was hoped that she'd wed another Bucklander rather than cast her eyes westwards; but the heart seldom obeys plans or logic.  My own mother was a Took so I reasoned that my pedigree might stand me in good stead to woo her -- young as she was at the time -- because my heart had fled and at fifty years of age, I believed myself mature enough to take on a wife.  The lass was only twenty years old and I heard the whispers that the age-gap was too great.  She smiled at me as lasses do at a friend; but when she looked at Drogo...  I could see the way of it, her youthful heart favoured him over me.  Do not mistake me, Frodo, I courted her in all seriousness and with honour, all to no avail."
     "So?"
     Bilbo raised his eyes to the lad.  "So Drogo won her.  He was only thirty-two and prepared to wait another year until his coming of age before asking for her hand in marriage.  His arrogance though was more than I could bear; he never tired of reminding me that Prim did not want a 'middle-aged' Hobbit for a husband; that lasses want younger spouses.  However, her father: old Gorbadoc himself, insisted that the couple wait to wed; he set a ten year engagement on them.  Drogo wasn't pleased but was forced to comply.  Prim accepted her father's decision and I...  I had no choice but to accept my fate also so it was rather a welcome respite when Gandalf turned up on my doorstep a short time later."
     "Gandalf?  The Wizard?"
     "The same.  He took me out of Bag End and my own misery; led me into an adventure such as Hobbits never have."  He giggled to himself.  "Rather profitable though."
     Frodo was still puzzled.  "So why does Seredic hate me enough to forge letters in your name?"
     "Because you are a Baggins and he believes you will inherit a great legacy once you come of age.  He thinks I set aside a fortune for you in memory of your mother and the love I always held for her."
     "Did you?"
     "Did I what?"
     "Love her."
     A thin smile caused Bilbo's mouth to twitch.  "More than anyone ever realised.  But -- there's no fortune waiting to be claimed.  All I have is in this burrow and will be fought over and divided by more relations than you can imagine!"
     "That wasn't why I came," Frodo said.  "I came out of curiosity."
     "About me?"
     "Yes; why you didn't take me in when my parents drowned."
     "I couldn't; you are too great a reminder of all that I never had."
     "So you abandoned me to a loveless existance!" he accused.
     "Abandoned?  Loveless?  Strong words, Frodo.  Your Brandybuck kin have a better claim on you than I have and if you are unhappy in Saradas's home then seek another."
     "I am."
     "Here?  No, Frodo.  My life is ordered now, there's no room for a child in it; not even one well able to fend for itself."
     "I'm not a child!"
     "You are not an adult either.  Fourteen years of age is nothing, Frodo; I am almost ninety-two and have much to do before I die."  He sighed then spoke again.  "You met Meriadoc when you arrived here; he's a good lad and his father is a good Hobbit -- for all that he's Seredic's cousin.  Married a Took you know," as he paused to smile.  "The Tooks are decent folk.  Try Meriadoc's if you want to move home."
     "He's gone home," Frodo said sourly.
     Bilbo shrugged.  "As you must.  Go back to Buckland, Frodo; you belong with the Brandybucks.  I can offer you nothing here except resentment and that would prove as bitter a diet as you have described to me.  Seek out Meriadoc and tell his mother -- her name is Esmerelda -- that Bilbo entrusts you to their care."  He stood up and gestured for Frodo to do likewise.  "The pony-cart will be here about noon, it's best you be on it."  Holding out his hand, he was hardly surprised that it wasn't taken.
     "And that's all you have to say to me?" Frodo asked, shooting to his feet.
     "I'm sorry, Frodo.  You want love... I cannot give it to you.  Hold onto those who can: the little lass who brought you here; the Gamgees, Meriadoc perhaps, all can give love, mine is spent."
     Frodo glared at Bilbo.  Disappointment swelled to anger and his feet took flight.  Without so much as a nod or word, he fled Bag End, passing Jess and Sam in the lane and not stopping until he reached the sanctuary of a group of trees.  Thudding down beneath the largest of them, he hugged his knees and just wept.  Two years vanished in two minutes as grief was exhumed.  The Orphan was also homeless and his pride in tatters.  Life seemed worthless and he wanted it to end...
 
TO BE CONTINUED...

Sam Gamgee's house at Bagshot Row

-MOVING HOME-
 by Frances Barratt
 Part 7
 
Jess found Frodo crumpled into a ball like a hedgehog.  Cautiously, she approached and lightly touched his shoulder.  "Frodo?  Sam was worried about you, and I... I thought you didn't want to speak to me anymore."
     A mop of dark curls stirred; slowly, the head beneath raised and a pale face gazed up on the young maid.  His bottom lip trembled and he could only extend his hand to her; comforted when she slid hers into his and fell to her knees beside him.  "Never... never think that I do not want you near me," he croaked.
     She drew nearer to him, putting an arm about his shoulders.  "He rejected you."  It was obvious from the moment Frodo had flown past her and Sam without a glance at either of them.  "What will you do?" though she feared his answer for whatever it was, he would be leaving Hobbiton.
     "What can I do, Jess?"
     "If he can't see your worth then..." and she sighed.  "There's still Meriadoc and his close kin."
     "I wish I were older!" Frodo declared.
     Jess smiled; swallowed down the threat of an attack from her weakness and replied: "Wishes do not alter bald truth.  You cannot change time but you can take charge of your future."  Taking his hands in hers, she went on: "Meriadoc is a jolly sort; not merely for convenience is he known as 'Merry'.  He would mediate for you I'm sure, and you'd be in the warmth of a happy family."  She hung her head.  "I will miss you of course; his kin live some distance from the Ferry."
     "Then I will not go!  I cannot lose you, Jess.  I will not!" as his hands jerked within her grasp.
     She gasped.  "Gently, Frodo, do not think so; I'm sure we can still meet -- somehow."
     He thought hard.  Slowly the idea sank in.  "If Meriadoc comes to visit Bilbo then why could I not?  What say you, Jess; are you agreeable for me to come to you from now onwards?"
     "Gladly!"
     Frodo embraced Jess with all the relief of a reprieved criminal.  Releasing her, he told her: "Then I must go and beg my other cousin: Saradoc 'Scattergold', to take pity on an orphan and give him shelter.  Will the cart have gone?"
     "No; the Carter usually takes his ease at The Ivy Bush.  You may even find Meriadoc there, waiting for a ride home."
     "Then so shall I."  He got to his feet and helped Jess to hers.  "Come with me to collect my satchel from the Gamgees and wait whilst I offer my thanks to them for their kindness."
     She nodded and they set off, it being but a short walk back to Bagshot Row.  She waited patiently whilst he made his farewells and noted the marked change in him as he realised that he had friends amongst them.  Her cousin was the only one who appeared disappointed; Sam was so easy to read.
     "I'll be back quite soon," Frodo promised the Gamgee kindred.  Then, he turned to Sam.  "Would you walk with us to see me off?" he requested.
     "Me?" Sam echoed in surprise.
     "Yes.  I'd deem it an honour; besides, you can escort your pretty cousin home and I'll know she'll be safe and well."
     Put like that, Sam could not refuse; so with the broadest grin ever on his face, he joined Frodo and Jess on the walk to The Ivy Bush pub out on the Bywater Road.
     Along the way, the three young Hobbits talked together of many things; things that only Hobbits cared about: food being the prime subject.  That led to Jess recounting the incident with Farmer Maggot and the resulting discussion as to whether taking wild mushrooms constituted poaching.  Time passed swiftly and The Ivy Bush came into sight.  Outside it stood the pony-cart; the pony itself being attended by a fair-haired Hobbit with thick curls.
     "Meriadoc?" Frodo called in query.
     He looked towards the approaching trio.  "Hello, Frodo, what brings you here?" as the companions drew level with him.
     "Looking for a ride home -- wherever 'home' might be, since I have deserted that which housed me these past two years."
     Meriadoc smiled.  "I guessed as much; knew that scoundrel Seredic would drive you out sooner or later!"  He looked at his feet then said: "We have room -- unless you have an alternative," and his eyes raised to those of his cousin.
     "Bilbo foisted me upon you!" Frodo decided.
     "No, Frodo," Meriadoc assured, laying a hand on the Orphan's shoulder.  "The kindred knew you'd run away; my mother suggested you come to live with us."
     "Esmerelda," Frodo said.
     "Yes; but to most, she's Esme."  He stood staring at Frodo, willing a decision from him.  "Well?  You must decide -- and quickly, the Carter will be out soon and I must leave, with or without you."
     Frodo glanced at Jess; who nodded to him so that he embraced her again, promising to visit her the following week.  He offered his hand to Sam, who took it bashfully.  "Take care, Master Samwise and I hold you to taking care of my most precious girl," he smiled.
     "Count on it, Mister Frodo," he vowed.
     Reluctantly, it was time to leave.  The Carter appeared; commanded they that were travelling to climb onto the cart and he nudged the pony into a walking pace.  Several times, Frodo looked back at Jess until she was no more than a tiny figure that was lost when he put one finger in front of his face.  He was off to a new home; not the home he'd expected but one that might be better than that he'd abandoned.
 
THE END

Sam and Frodo, friends for life, unconditionally from now on

Main Page

-A Washerwoman's Tale -by Lassie Rowan Gamwich

-Forever Friends-
by Frances Barratt

Hamfast Gamgee, Sam's father. Also known as "The Gaffer "

Merry brings Frodo good news:
he is offered a place to stay at the Brandybuck's home. Which he thankfully accepted

-Alone Amongst Many-
by Frances Barratt

-A Fork In The Road-
by Frances Barratt

-Burying The Past- by Frances Barratt

-Transition-by Frances Barratt

Frodo finally gets to meet his Uncle Bilbo.... but there are still a few painful matters from the past that have to be dealt with first.

-Forgotten Memories-by Frances Barratt

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