Summary: Ever wonder what was going on in The Shire while the hobbits were
away?
Author's Note: This is my first multi-chapter story. As of right now, I'm not sure of the exact number of chapters. I will make every effort to post at least one a month, more often if we're lucky.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters nor do I make any money from them. They belong completely to the Tolkien estate and their affiliates.
Special thanks to Marigold, a wonderful beta, who believes in me even when I don't believe in myself.
CHAPTER 1: STRANGE NEWS - AND NOT FROM BREE
"They say Fredegar Bolger just barely made it to safety with his own life. They're calling him a true hero, alerting the rest of Buckland to the danger!"
News travels fast in the Shire. Bad news, doubly so. By the evening of October 1st, it was the only topic of conversation at The Green Dragon in Bywater, and indeed every inn in the Shire. A house in Crickhollow had been broken into! Frodo Baggins, formerly of Bag End, along with his young cousins Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, were missing. Also missing was Mr. Baggins' gardener, Samwise Gamgee, the old gaffer's son. Such a to do had never been heard of, and their disappearance was not the only gossip.
"Some's sayin' old Farmer Maggot had one of them Big Folk trespassing on his land just the day before them lads vanished."
Every table in the inn was filled with hobbits, all discussing the strange goings on. Farmers and farriers, merchants and millers, anyone and everyone was eager to have an ale and hear the latest gossip. The standing room only crowd made it difficult for the serving lasses to bring drinks to the customers.
"The gaffer told me only last week one of the Big Folk, dressed all in black, came round asking for Mr. Frodo. Didn't like the looks of 'im, nor the way he talked. Said he was mighty put out when the gaffer wouldn't carry a message to Bucklebury. Hissed at him, he did!" Daddy Twofoot, enjoying a bit of celebrity as the gaffer's neighbour, leaned back in his chair, plunked his feet on the table and curtly nodded before accepting another ale from a harried-looking Magnolia Hornblower.
"Rode down the Bounders guarding the North Gates, those black riders did! Killed one of 'em dead I heard, and the others still aren't quite right in the head yet, nor is Mr. Fredegar!"
At this, the inn became quiet for a few moments, the buzz of conversation falling off as though a wave had swept through the room. Suddenly the inn seemed to become hotter and stuffier than before, the crush of the crowd and the smell of stale pipeweed smoke almost overwhelming. The only noise was the clink of mugs as several overworked young lads with dish cloths tried to keep up with the demand. A merchant at a nearby table, passing through on his way to Michel Delving, cleared his throat and ordered another ale, breaking the strange spell that had descended over the inn, the level of noise rising once more.
"I've always known that Frodo Baggins would come to a nasty end. Now he's gone and taken the future Master of the Hall and the future Thain right along with him, and him only a youngster and all. Rosie! Your Sam's gone missing as well. I heard Frodo dragged him along to keep up the garden at his new house. Did he say anything to you before he left for Crickhollow? What kind of trouble has Frodo gone and got himself into?"
"Ted Sandyman! Don't you be accusing Mr. Frodo of any wrongdoing!" Rosie Cotton spun around from her task of clearing empty mugs at the next table and stabbed Sandyman with a withering look. "If Sam wants to take care of Mr. Frodo's bit of garden, then that's his concern. Mr. Frodo is an upstanding, well-spoken, gentlehobbit. He'd not be going out looking for trouble. If trouble has found him, he could do worse than to have Samwise Gamgee standing by his side. You just mark my words, all four of those lads will turn up and you'll be wishing you'd kept a civil tongue in your head!"
Ignoring the scowl that crossed Ted Sandyman's face, Rosie turned back to her task of clearing the table, her hands shaking with fury, and something more. Excusing herself to the group of newcomers who immediately took possession of the now clean table she made her way quickly to the kitchen. Being well past supper, the kitchen was empty and this was the only room that offered a bit of privacy from the unusually large crowd. In all the years of her employment at The Green Dragon, Rosie had never seen so many customers as were here tonight. She'd heard tell of a good crowd after Mr. Bilbo Baggins' infamous final birthday party, but she had been just a young girl then, and didn't remember much about the event.
'I don't know how much more of this talk I can take!' she thought frantically. 'Sam knew something, he did. Told me he was going off to Crickhollow with Mr. Frodo and I most likely wouldn't hear from him for a while. I wish he hadn't gone! But, Sam's always been loyal to Mr. Frodo. I think he'd walk through fire if Frodo asked him to.' Rosie forcefully stopped herself unconsciously wiping the countertops with her towel. Mrs. Goodbody and her daughter had left the kitchen spotless as usual, despite the lateness of the hour and the amazing number of dinners that had been served this evening. The Green Dragon was one of the Shire's finest inns, serving the best ale for miles around; however, the cooking left something to be desired in the way of variety. While hot and delicious, Mrs. Goodbody had no talent for menus, there being only three dishes available for patrons to choose from. It said something for the interest local hobbits had for news of the break-in; never had The Green Dragon served so many plates of sautéed mushrooms and bacon - Mrs. Goodbody's best dish - in one night.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she sat down in a nearby chair and rocked back and forth. 'Sam said don't listen to any of the news or gossip coming out of Buckland! What could he have possibly known that would cause such an uproar? Sam, Mr. Frodo, Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin all missing.' Swiping at her now streaming eyes, Rosie got up and began restlessly pacing the spacious room. 'Well, they can't be dead, they just can't be! Whatever has happened, they are NOT dead!' Suddenly she stopped her pacing and slammed her hand down on the counter. 'Sam said he had something important to discuss when next he saw me. That's not the kind of talk you hear from a hobbit who's not planning on returning. The least I can do is keep an eye on his gaffer for him, like he asked. That nasty Lotho Sackville-Baggins is living up at Bag End now and already trying to throw his weight around. Who knows what kind of trouble he'll manage to stir up?'
Her thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Goodbody, the proprietor of the inn, "Rosie, there you are lass! Get back out here! I'm not paying you to hide in the kitchen all night! We've got customers! And two of your brothers are looking for you as well." Turning, he left the room before he had even fully entered.
Rosie straightened her skirts, smoothed her hair and scrubbed at her remaining tears. Then, taking a deep breath and grabbing a fresh towel, she marched back out into the pub. Sure enough, Young Tom and Jolly were standing together at the far end of the bar. Rosie caught their attention and then turned to serve a long line of customers waiting none too patiently for more ale. Seemed everyone was in a hurry to get back to their conversations.
About thirty minutes later, everyone's curiosity had been satisfied, for that night at least, and the crowd began to thin out. Farmers rise early, choice news or no. Conversations slowly died away or were carried through the door to the courtyard outside. After clearing a few more tables, Rosie called goodnight to Mr. Goodbody, who was starting to count up the till, left the few remaining customers to Magnolia, and went to join her brothers who had secured a table in a back corner.
"It's late. Why are you here? Have you had news?" she asked softly, plopping down beside Jolly. The differences in their appearance were so pronounced, folks often forgot they were twins, an unusual relationship in the Shire, to be sure. Rosie was petite, being 3'2" with fine, delicate features; Jolly, tall at 3'6" with a rugged, chiselled look and brown from working in the sun.
"Well," Tom answered with a frown and a heavy sigh, taking a long pull from his mug. "Da and Nick finished up their business in Stock and got home earlier this evening. Seems the rumours are true. They met up with a Shirriff on his way to Frogmorton who told them the whole story. The front door of Mr. Frodo's house had been smashed in. According to the Shirriff, the only evidence of Mr. Frodo ever having been there was one of his cloaks, leastways Mr. Fredegar said it was Mr. Frodo's, left lying on the doorstep. Of Sam and the others there was no trace. Nothing to even show they had ever been there."
Before Rosie could fully react to this news, Jolly jumped into the hushed conversation, "And that's not all. Poor ole' Simon Banks was run clean through by one of them Big Folk. Hiram Rumble and Wills Boffin were both trampled by their horses. Wills' got hisself a broke leg and some cracked ribs. Hiram is still knocked out. No one knows when, or if, he'll come 'round. According to Wills, there were three of 'em. All riding horses black as midnight. And all of 'em looking just the same as Sam's gaffer described his visitor last week. None of the Bounders knows how they managed to get into the Shire without being seen."
Horrified by what she was hearing, Rosie grasped for the only bit of good she could find in the situation, "So those Big Folk, those Riders, they didn't have any hobbits with them, did they? They weren't carrying any bundles on their horses, were they? Did the bounders notice?"
"The Shirriff didn't mention bundles or hobbits, but I figure Wills was a mite busy being trampled at the time to take much notice. Come on, we'd best be headin' for home. Da won't be happy about how long we've been gone. Sent us to fetch you home safe, he did."
During the long walk home in the dark, thoughts kept tumbling round and round in Rosie's head. 'They weren't taken by the Riders! They knew something was going to happen. Sam, Frodo and his cousins must have left before the Riders could find them! But where could they have gone? If the Riders have left the Shire, it's a good bet Sam and the others have left as well. They didn't leave through the North Gate, though. The Bounders would have seen them. But where would they have gone? The Old Forest isn't too far from Crickhollow. Would they have gone in there? Nothing good ever happens in that place, or so they say! But, Mr. Merry was with them. The Brandybucks have been tending the Hedge for more years than anyone can remember. He wouldn't be afraid of the Old Forest!'
Without realizing it, Rosie's pace was quickening along with her thoughts. Tom and Jolly were beginning to have a hard time keeping up with their spirited sister. "Come on, Rosie! Have a heart and slow down a bit. It's difficult protecting you when you won't stay with us." Tom's plea fell on deaf ears as Rosie continued her contemplations.
'Why would they leave the Shire? Where would they go?' Looking around her, Rosie noticed the darkness surrounding her. On this overcast night, the only lights were the scattered stars, the far-off flicker of candles in the windows of a few distant farmhouses and Tom's lantern. She paused a moment to let Tom and Jolly catch up. 'I wonder if this has anything to do with old Mr. Bilbo. Sam said Gandalf was up at Bag End earlier this year. I'll just bet his visit has something to do with these goings on! I remember the tales about Mr. Bilbo's adventures with Gandalf all those years ago. Maybe they're with Gandalf right now. I just hope they've found some shelter. I hate to think of my poor Sam outside on such a gloomy night as this.'
~*~
Rosie didn't know just how close to the truth her wonderings were taking her. Sam, Frodo, Merry and Pippin were spending their third night in the company of a mysterious ranger called Strider.
Author's Note: This is my first multi-chapter story. As of right now, I'm not sure of the exact number of chapters. I will make every effort to post at least one a month, more often if we're lucky.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters nor do I make any money from them. They belong completely to the Tolkien estate and their affiliates.
Special thanks to Marigold, a wonderful beta, who believes in me even when I don't believe in myself.
CHAPTER 1: STRANGE NEWS - AND NOT FROM BREE
"They say Fredegar Bolger just barely made it to safety with his own life. They're calling him a true hero, alerting the rest of Buckland to the danger!"
News travels fast in the Shire. Bad news, doubly so. By the evening of October 1st, it was the only topic of conversation at The Green Dragon in Bywater, and indeed every inn in the Shire. A house in Crickhollow had been broken into! Frodo Baggins, formerly of Bag End, along with his young cousins Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, were missing. Also missing was Mr. Baggins' gardener, Samwise Gamgee, the old gaffer's son. Such a to do had never been heard of, and their disappearance was not the only gossip.
"Some's sayin' old Farmer Maggot had one of them Big Folk trespassing on his land just the day before them lads vanished."
Every table in the inn was filled with hobbits, all discussing the strange goings on. Farmers and farriers, merchants and millers, anyone and everyone was eager to have an ale and hear the latest gossip. The standing room only crowd made it difficult for the serving lasses to bring drinks to the customers.
"The gaffer told me only last week one of the Big Folk, dressed all in black, came round asking for Mr. Frodo. Didn't like the looks of 'im, nor the way he talked. Said he was mighty put out when the gaffer wouldn't carry a message to Bucklebury. Hissed at him, he did!" Daddy Twofoot, enjoying a bit of celebrity as the gaffer's neighbour, leaned back in his chair, plunked his feet on the table and curtly nodded before accepting another ale from a harried-looking Magnolia Hornblower.
"Rode down the Bounders guarding the North Gates, those black riders did! Killed one of 'em dead I heard, and the others still aren't quite right in the head yet, nor is Mr. Fredegar!"
At this, the inn became quiet for a few moments, the buzz of conversation falling off as though a wave had swept through the room. Suddenly the inn seemed to become hotter and stuffier than before, the crush of the crowd and the smell of stale pipeweed smoke almost overwhelming. The only noise was the clink of mugs as several overworked young lads with dish cloths tried to keep up with the demand. A merchant at a nearby table, passing through on his way to Michel Delving, cleared his throat and ordered another ale, breaking the strange spell that had descended over the inn, the level of noise rising once more.
"I've always known that Frodo Baggins would come to a nasty end. Now he's gone and taken the future Master of the Hall and the future Thain right along with him, and him only a youngster and all. Rosie! Your Sam's gone missing as well. I heard Frodo dragged him along to keep up the garden at his new house. Did he say anything to you before he left for Crickhollow? What kind of trouble has Frodo gone and got himself into?"
"Ted Sandyman! Don't you be accusing Mr. Frodo of any wrongdoing!" Rosie Cotton spun around from her task of clearing empty mugs at the next table and stabbed Sandyman with a withering look. "If Sam wants to take care of Mr. Frodo's bit of garden, then that's his concern. Mr. Frodo is an upstanding, well-spoken, gentlehobbit. He'd not be going out looking for trouble. If trouble has found him, he could do worse than to have Samwise Gamgee standing by his side. You just mark my words, all four of those lads will turn up and you'll be wishing you'd kept a civil tongue in your head!"
Ignoring the scowl that crossed Ted Sandyman's face, Rosie turned back to her task of clearing the table, her hands shaking with fury, and something more. Excusing herself to the group of newcomers who immediately took possession of the now clean table she made her way quickly to the kitchen. Being well past supper, the kitchen was empty and this was the only room that offered a bit of privacy from the unusually large crowd. In all the years of her employment at The Green Dragon, Rosie had never seen so many customers as were here tonight. She'd heard tell of a good crowd after Mr. Bilbo Baggins' infamous final birthday party, but she had been just a young girl then, and didn't remember much about the event.
'I don't know how much more of this talk I can take!' she thought frantically. 'Sam knew something, he did. Told me he was going off to Crickhollow with Mr. Frodo and I most likely wouldn't hear from him for a while. I wish he hadn't gone! But, Sam's always been loyal to Mr. Frodo. I think he'd walk through fire if Frodo asked him to.' Rosie forcefully stopped herself unconsciously wiping the countertops with her towel. Mrs. Goodbody and her daughter had left the kitchen spotless as usual, despite the lateness of the hour and the amazing number of dinners that had been served this evening. The Green Dragon was one of the Shire's finest inns, serving the best ale for miles around; however, the cooking left something to be desired in the way of variety. While hot and delicious, Mrs. Goodbody had no talent for menus, there being only three dishes available for patrons to choose from. It said something for the interest local hobbits had for news of the break-in; never had The Green Dragon served so many plates of sautéed mushrooms and bacon - Mrs. Goodbody's best dish - in one night.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she sat down in a nearby chair and rocked back and forth. 'Sam said don't listen to any of the news or gossip coming out of Buckland! What could he have possibly known that would cause such an uproar? Sam, Mr. Frodo, Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin all missing.' Swiping at her now streaming eyes, Rosie got up and began restlessly pacing the spacious room. 'Well, they can't be dead, they just can't be! Whatever has happened, they are NOT dead!' Suddenly she stopped her pacing and slammed her hand down on the counter. 'Sam said he had something important to discuss when next he saw me. That's not the kind of talk you hear from a hobbit who's not planning on returning. The least I can do is keep an eye on his gaffer for him, like he asked. That nasty Lotho Sackville-Baggins is living up at Bag End now and already trying to throw his weight around. Who knows what kind of trouble he'll manage to stir up?'
Her thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Goodbody, the proprietor of the inn, "Rosie, there you are lass! Get back out here! I'm not paying you to hide in the kitchen all night! We've got customers! And two of your brothers are looking for you as well." Turning, he left the room before he had even fully entered.
Rosie straightened her skirts, smoothed her hair and scrubbed at her remaining tears. Then, taking a deep breath and grabbing a fresh towel, she marched back out into the pub. Sure enough, Young Tom and Jolly were standing together at the far end of the bar. Rosie caught their attention and then turned to serve a long line of customers waiting none too patiently for more ale. Seemed everyone was in a hurry to get back to their conversations.
About thirty minutes later, everyone's curiosity had been satisfied, for that night at least, and the crowd began to thin out. Farmers rise early, choice news or no. Conversations slowly died away or were carried through the door to the courtyard outside. After clearing a few more tables, Rosie called goodnight to Mr. Goodbody, who was starting to count up the till, left the few remaining customers to Magnolia, and went to join her brothers who had secured a table in a back corner.
"It's late. Why are you here? Have you had news?" she asked softly, plopping down beside Jolly. The differences in their appearance were so pronounced, folks often forgot they were twins, an unusual relationship in the Shire, to be sure. Rosie was petite, being 3'2" with fine, delicate features; Jolly, tall at 3'6" with a rugged, chiselled look and brown from working in the sun.
"Well," Tom answered with a frown and a heavy sigh, taking a long pull from his mug. "Da and Nick finished up their business in Stock and got home earlier this evening. Seems the rumours are true. They met up with a Shirriff on his way to Frogmorton who told them the whole story. The front door of Mr. Frodo's house had been smashed in. According to the Shirriff, the only evidence of Mr. Frodo ever having been there was one of his cloaks, leastways Mr. Fredegar said it was Mr. Frodo's, left lying on the doorstep. Of Sam and the others there was no trace. Nothing to even show they had ever been there."
Before Rosie could fully react to this news, Jolly jumped into the hushed conversation, "And that's not all. Poor ole' Simon Banks was run clean through by one of them Big Folk. Hiram Rumble and Wills Boffin were both trampled by their horses. Wills' got hisself a broke leg and some cracked ribs. Hiram is still knocked out. No one knows when, or if, he'll come 'round. According to Wills, there were three of 'em. All riding horses black as midnight. And all of 'em looking just the same as Sam's gaffer described his visitor last week. None of the Bounders knows how they managed to get into the Shire without being seen."
Horrified by what she was hearing, Rosie grasped for the only bit of good she could find in the situation, "So those Big Folk, those Riders, they didn't have any hobbits with them, did they? They weren't carrying any bundles on their horses, were they? Did the bounders notice?"
"The Shirriff didn't mention bundles or hobbits, but I figure Wills was a mite busy being trampled at the time to take much notice. Come on, we'd best be headin' for home. Da won't be happy about how long we've been gone. Sent us to fetch you home safe, he did."
During the long walk home in the dark, thoughts kept tumbling round and round in Rosie's head. 'They weren't taken by the Riders! They knew something was going to happen. Sam, Frodo and his cousins must have left before the Riders could find them! But where could they have gone? If the Riders have left the Shire, it's a good bet Sam and the others have left as well. They didn't leave through the North Gate, though. The Bounders would have seen them. But where would they have gone? The Old Forest isn't too far from Crickhollow. Would they have gone in there? Nothing good ever happens in that place, or so they say! But, Mr. Merry was with them. The Brandybucks have been tending the Hedge for more years than anyone can remember. He wouldn't be afraid of the Old Forest!'
Without realizing it, Rosie's pace was quickening along with her thoughts. Tom and Jolly were beginning to have a hard time keeping up with their spirited sister. "Come on, Rosie! Have a heart and slow down a bit. It's difficult protecting you when you won't stay with us." Tom's plea fell on deaf ears as Rosie continued her contemplations.
'Why would they leave the Shire? Where would they go?' Looking around her, Rosie noticed the darkness surrounding her. On this overcast night, the only lights were the scattered stars, the far-off flicker of candles in the windows of a few distant farmhouses and Tom's lantern. She paused a moment to let Tom and Jolly catch up. 'I wonder if this has anything to do with old Mr. Bilbo. Sam said Gandalf was up at Bag End earlier this year. I'll just bet his visit has something to do with these goings on! I remember the tales about Mr. Bilbo's adventures with Gandalf all those years ago. Maybe they're with Gandalf right now. I just hope they've found some shelter. I hate to think of my poor Sam outside on such a gloomy night as this.'
~*~
Rosie didn't know just how close to the truth her wonderings were taking her. Sam, Frodo, Merry and Pippin were spending their third night in the company of a mysterious ranger called Strider.