My hobbity birthday present for the LotR community. (Yay! I finally managed to do it!)

The New Roommate

"Why do we have to scrub the floor?"

Fifteen-year-old Doralic Brandybuck, better known as Derlic among the lads, sighed inwardly at the question. Favouring his brother with his most patient, long-suffering look he answered, "I told you; it's because we're getting a new roommate."

"But why do we have to scrub it?" Morilac persisted. "Why can't one of the servants—"

"Oh." Now Derlic understood. "Mum said something about it being our room so we ought to be keeping it clean anyways, and not to be bothering the servants all the time, and—"

"Right, right, I get it," Morilac interrupted. He glowered at the dusty space that his bed had previously occupied and sighed.

"Is it a lad?"

Derlic rolled his eyes, making sure that his little brother didn't see. "Yes, Lacks."

"Then he's not even going to notice the floor!"

"Then take it up with Mum! Lawks, Morilac!"

The younger lad subsided and the two continued cleaning in silence.

"What's he like?"

Derlic shrugged. "Dunno. He's Cousin Prim's lad, though, so he probably knows how to swim and climb trees, and he was playing crack-the-whip the other day."

Lacks nodded wistfully. "Yeah, he probably does. She'd be sure to teach him." He gave Derlic a grimace of a smile, and Derlic returned it. Cousin Primula had always been a favourite among the younger set. Even with a husband and a lad of her own she'd still always found time for playing with the children of Brandy Hall and making them feel special. In fact, today was the day that the lads had planned to show her the secret cave that they'd found by the riverbank. Now, thanks to the drowning nobody was being allowed near the Brandywine until Uncle Rorimac, the Master of Buckland and Brandy Hall, said so.

Lacks looked away. "I can't believe she's gone. She was just here!"

Derlic nodded, his jaw tight, and scrubbed at the floor. The last few weeks had been so strange. First was the birth of his new second cousin Berilac, and then on the very night of Berilac's welcoming party Cousin Primula and her husband Drogo had gone out for a late boat ride and managed to sink the boat somehow and drown themselves. Then had been all of the comings and goings with the burial and the will-reading and every lad in the smial knew about the fuss that had been made over where Drogo and Primula's son would live (many, including Derlic and Lacks, had been eavesdropping on the discussion at least at some point), including the lad's vehement announcement that he didn't EVER want any other parents.

And now he's going to live here. Derlic glanced around the room with a sigh. He and Lacks had shared the little room between themselves for as long as Doralic could remember, and now a strange lad was going to come in and disrupt everything because the Mistress said that he needed to be with lads his own age.

"D'you think he'll like us?"

Doralic blinked at his brother for a moment. "Why wouldn't he?"

"Dunno, but he might not. Said he didn't want a new family, 'member?"

"Yeah, but that was parents, not brothers."

"Oh. Good." Lacks glanced sideways at him. "So who's going to take care of him? Us?"

Oh, now that was a scary thought. "No, I think Cousin Saradoc and Esmerelda will. He'll just sleep with us."

"Hm."

Derlic glanced at his younger brother. Lacks was either thinking, or else he was still upset about something. Those were the only two times that he would work so single-mindedly at anything the way that he was scrubbing at a muddy corner where one of them had left their boots during Astron and never thoroughly cleaned up the mess. The pair worked in silence for a little while.

"I miss Cousin Prim."

Derlic looked up from the floor. Lacks was still scrubbing at that corner. "So do I."

Morilac twisted around to look at him "Do you think that he'll be anything like her?"

"I dunno," Derlic shrugged. "He's only eleven or so."

Lacks looked at him with disgust. "You mean he's not even a teen yet? Why are they puting him in here?!"

"Mum said that he could sleep with us."

"But he's only a child," Morilac protested. "He'll be in the way and we'll be tripping over him all the time! Why would she say he could stay here?"

"You're only thirteen," Derlic returned sharply, "and he needed a place to stay. The aunts don't want him to be left alone. They're afraid of something."

Now Lacks looked interested. "What?"

"How should I know?" Derlic finally exploded. "Do I look like I have all the answers!? We'll find out when he gets here. Until then, I Don't Know!"

Morilac backed off, as if fearing to rouse his brother's temper further and the pair worked in silence. After a few minutes, however, Lacks asked in a much more subdued tone, "Do you know when he'll get here?"

"Sometime tonight," was the laconic answer.

-fjfjfjfjfjf-

"He's HERE!" Lacks bellowed, racing into the bedroom. "DORALIC! HE'S HERE!"

"I heard, Lacks, I heard," Derlic grumbled, twitching the patchwork quilt on the newcomer's bed straight. "You don't need to yell."

"Oh. Well, they just arrived, and they're in the front room, and," here Morilac's voice dropped to a whisper, "he's little."

Derlic rolled his eyes. "He's eleven years old. He's going to be little."

"Yeah, but," Lacks flopped backwards onto the bed that they would now be sharing, "he's really young, Der. He won't let go of Cousin Esmerelda's hand and he keeps looking 'round and 'round and staring at everything like he's never seen it before and is scared of it. I don't think that he knows how to swim or climb trees or scrump a pie from a pantry or anything! You didn't say anything about him being so young!" He stared at Derlic with dark, accusing eyes.

Derlic grimaced inwardly at this unpromising description of their roommate, but refused to lose face in front of his little brother. "All right, so we won't be able to show him all of our favourite haunts right away. He'll grow, though, and we've got a whole summer to teach him how to swim. Give it a bit of time." He expertly slipped a pillow into its white case and tossed it onto the bed.

"Maybe," Lacks still looked sceptical.

"C'mon," Derlic grabbed Lacks' and yanked him up from the bed. "There's a chest in one of the mathom rooms that should just fit at the foot of the bed. Let's get it."

It took a bit for the lads to wrestle the large chest down the passages to their bedroom, and as they approached the room Derlic could hear voices within.

"—I had hoped that the lads would be here to meet you," a disapproving female voice was saying.

Aunt Menegilda, Derlic thought, suddenly understanding his mother's anxiety about the room being perfect. He hadn't realised that the Mistress of Buckland herself would be inspecting their room. Guiltily he remembered the tarts he and Lacks had scrumped earlier that morning. Surely she wouldn't know about them already.

"Don't worry, Mother," a younger female voice responded. "I'm sure they're about somewhere."

Cousin Esmerelda? Derlic frowned. She's here too? "Lacks," he hissed, "let's leave it out here for a minute."

"Sounds good to me," Lacks grunted.

The pair quickly settled the heavy chest against the wall and hurried to their room. Sure enough, there stood the formidable Aunt Menegilda, her daughter-in-love Esmerelda, and Mum. Derlic couldn't even see their new roommate around all of the ladies.

"Oh, there you are, lads," Mum said, turning and catching sight of the pair. The other two ladies swung around at once, making Derlic feel as if he'd been caught scrumping again. "Come and say hello to Frodo."

"Hullo!" Lacks called cheekily from the doorframe. Derlic rolled his eyes and dragged his brother into the room. Just beyond all of the ladies and their skirts stood a small lad with dark hair and a very pale face. It took only a glance to tell Derlic that this was the lad who'd nearly fallen out of the tree less than a week ago when the bodies of his cousins had been brought to shore. He gazed at them silently for a moment and then mumbled, "Hello."

"Hello," Lacks returned, eyeing the lad—really the child—suspiciously.

Derlic pasted on a bright smile. "Welcome to our room," he grinned. "We hope that you like it." If Lacks isn't going to have any manners then one of us had better.

"Thank you," the child returned softly. "I'm sure that I'll - enjoy my stay."

Well, he has manners, at least, Derlic thought, although he couldn't help but notice how he'd choked on 'enjoy'. Now, can he keep his seat any better in a tree?

"Where have you lads been?" his mother frowned.

"We were getting a chest for Frodo to put his stuff into," Lacks answered. "It's out in the passage. You can put your bag into it if you want," he offered, turning to Frodo. The younger lad clutched the rucksack he was carrying a little tighter. Derlic noticed that one of his hands was buried within the contents of the small pack.

Mum frowned at the 'out in', but before she could say anything Aunt Menegilda said crisply, "Well, thank you for doing that, lads, but Frodo has his own chest that he'll be using. The servants will be bringing it in shortly, I'm sure."

"Oh." Derlic didn't know whether to feel disappointed, relieved, or rejected. "Do you want us to take it back, Aunt Menegilda?"

"No, dear," she answered. "The servants can take it back for you. Thank you for taking the time to bring it though. It was very thoughtful of you."

"What do you think of your room, dearling?" Cousin Esmerelda asked, kneeling down so that she was at Frodo's level. The child looked around dully.

"It's very nice," he mumbled, and then looked up at Derlic and Lacks for almost the first time. "Thank you for allowing me to stay with you."

He might have been saying thank you, but his eyes certainly weren't saying...anything, really. They were dull and empty-looking; not at all like the wild, laughing little creature who'd hung on so tightly during crack-the-whip last week, nor even the frantic lad who'd almost fallen out of the tree. Derlic wasn't sure what to say, so he settled on, "You're welcome."

The child gave him a tremulous smile, but again, nothing showed in the hollow blue eyes.

"Do you like the floor?" Morilac asked as he flopped down on their bed, a bit of a bite in the back of his voice. "We mopped it 'specially for you." Derlic glared at him, wishing that he was close enough to give his brother a sharp elbow to the ribs.

A puzzled look came over the young lad's face and he gave said floor a glance. Derlic did not miss the significant look that Lacks gave him and rolled his eyes.

"It looks very nice," Frodo shrugged.

"Beggin' your pardon, mistress," a strange voice said from the doorway, and everyone turned to see a servant standing there holding one handle of a chest. "Where would y' like this?"

"Here," Mum gestured to the foot of the single bed by the wall. "He'll be sleeping in this one."

"Aye, mistress," and everyone moved further into the room so that the two servants could put down the chest.

"Will you be all right there, dearling?" Cousin Esmerelda asked Frodo, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, Aunt Esme," the child murmured.

"Do you want me to help you settle in?" she asked. A shrug was all the answer she receieved.

"Well, lad, we'll leave you for now," the Mistress of Brandy Hall said briskly. "You'll be all right, won't you?"

The lad straightened up. "Yes, Aunt Gilda. I'm sure I'll be fine," he said stiffly.

She looked back at him for a moment, and then quite unexpectedly swooped down and enveloped him in a hug. For a moment he stiffened in her arms, and then he went limp and hugged her back fiercely. They were whispering things to one another that Derlic couldn't hear, and then slowly Aunt Menegilda let go of him, wiping tears away with the back of her hand. Derlic was stunned. Aunt Menegilda could cry?

"Well, all right then, lad," she said, trying to reclaim her customary briskness, "and I will see you at the table for second breakfast tomorrow morning. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Aunt Gilda," the child answered softly.

Honestly, does he know how to speak louder?

"Good night then, Frodo. Sleep well. Good night, Esmerelda," she added with a look at her daughter-in-love.

"Good night, Aunt Gilda," "Good night, Mother," Frodo and Cousin Esmerelda returned.

Aunt Menegilda turned to Derlic and Lacks. "Good night, lads. Thank you again for being willing to share your bedroom."

Both lads straightened up (Lacks gettting off of the bed to do so) and bowed to the Mistress. "It's our pleasure, Aunt Menegilda," Derlic returned politely. "Good night."

"Good night," Lacks echoed.

She gave them a nod of approval and then swept out of the room, saying as she did so, "Verbena, if I could speak with you privately?"

Mum nodded and followed her out, leaving just Cousin Esmerelda and the lads in the room (the servants having placed the chest and departed immediately). Cousin Esmerelda rose to her feet and brushed off her skirts.

"Well now," she said briskly, (and Derlic wondered if she was trying to imitate Aunt Menegilda), "Shall we unpack your things?"

"All right," the lad agreed dully. He propped the rucksack against his new pillow, and then the two delved into the chest at the foot of the bed. Derlic and Lacks crowded around as well, peeking over the heads and shoulders of the busy pair. From what Derlic could see it was mostly clothes and brushes and things like that. The child pulled a warm-looking quilt out and placed it on the bed, following that with two brushes and what was very likely his nightshirt.

"Boring," Lacks whispered to his brother. Derlic nodded in agreement. The child shot them a brief scowl, and then ignored them.

"Oh, Frodo," Cousin Esmerelda said in an admonishing tone, and Derlic's head quickly swivled that direction. She had lifted out a pile of clothing and was now gazing at a stack of books which the child must have brought without anyone knowing.

Frodo straightened up, his chin jutting out defiantly. "They are mine, Aunt Esme," he returned. "If my parents are truly - dead," he swallowed, "then they belong to m-me now, an' I want 'em, Aunt Esme," the defiance was gone, replaced with a pleading tone. "That's Mum's receipts, an' my family's books, an' Da's sketches, an' the star book, an', an'," his voice was almost breaking. "Please don' take them away," he whispered.

Cousin Esmerelda shook her head at him. "Very well, Frodo," she sighed, "but you need to tell Aunt Gilda where these books are. We were looking everywhere for them."

"I will," Frodo answered, "but they are mine."

"All right, dear," Cousin Esmerelda agreed, "but you have to keep them safe, then."

The lad nodded. "I will."

Cousin Esmerelda shook her head again. "Let's see what else you have buried in here." She began systematically removing piles of clothing and linens from the chest and soon uncovered:

a box of carpentry tools
a small sewing basket
an elegant chess set that looked like it was worth the weight of a smial
ten rocks
a biscuit tin which on further examination proved to be nearly full (this earned him a disapproving look from Aunt Esmerelda)
a jar of strawberry jam (another disapproving look. Derlic, on the other hand, thought that things were starting to look up.)
pens, inks, paint, and paper for writing or drawing
a mug painted with green, gold, and brown leaves
a collection of conkers (Derlic eyed them with suspicion. Had he won all of these?)
books which Frodo insisted were for school
a leather bag of marbles
a carefully wrapped box which when opened held various eggshells and dead bugs and a few feathers and leaves and bits of smashed china and a very dirty string of beads
a carved wooden pony
a top
a puzzle
and various strings and ribbons and wood shavings and other things that Frodo refused to explain but wouldn't hear of parting with.

At the end of it all Cousin Esmerelda was shaking her head again. "No wonder Uncle Sara and Uncle Mac thought this thing was heavy," she lightly scolded. In return he gave her an innocent look.

"You did say that I could bring what I wanted 's long as it fit in the chest."

Well. Derlic was impressed. Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as he feared.

Cousin Esmerelda gave the lad a stern look. "Maybe it's just as well that I packed your clothing."

He shrugged in response.

"Where's your cat?" Cousin Esmerelda asked, looking over the collection once more.

Cat?

"In my bag."

Lacks looks as suspicious as Derlic. "You brought a cat?" he frowned.

The younger lad looked back at them a little warily. "Yes."

"Why?"

The defensive stance was back. "My mother made it for me."

Oh. Stuffed.

"Do you still sleep with it?"

Derlic rolled his eyes and gave his little brother a hard elbow to the ribs. "Quiet, Lacks."

"Ow! What?"

"That's none of your business," Derlic hissed.

Frodo stiffened. "As a matter of fact, I do from time to time," he returned pointedly. "Is something wrong with that?" The 't' snapped crisply like a fresh carrot.

"Not at all," Derlic hastily put in before his idiot younger brother could open his mouth again. "Lacks was just curious, weren't you, Lacks?" he added sharply.

"Yeah, yeah, just curious," Morilac agreed quickly. "Sorry. Didn't mean to offend."

The child stared at them for a moment and then turned away, trembling just a little. "'S all right," he murmured.

Cousin Esmerelda was still shaking her head as she carefully replaced everything that had been removed from the chest. Looking up she gave the three of them a stern look. "It's late. You lads ought to be getting to bed."

"It's not late," Lacks protested.

"Go wash your faces and brush your hairs. By the time you get back it will be late. Off with you now." She made a shooing motion at them and tossed something to Frodo. As the child caught it Derlic realised that it was a facecloth.

With a tiny smile (the first that Doralic had seen from him) the lad said, "Yes, Aunt Esme," and then scanned the room anxiously for something. (Likely the washbasin.)

Derlic smiled at this. He'd been pretty clever about his packing, but really, he was still just a child, barely more than a faunt. "C'mon," he smiled. "Let me show you around the room."

-fjfjfjfjfjf-

It was late into the night when Derlic awoke to the sound of someone sniffling. His first reaction upon finding a very warm lump curled up beside him was that Lacks had a nightmare and had crawled in bed with him. Then the lump snored.

Well, that rules out that idea, Derlic thought groggily. Then who—

The sniffling came again, a little bit louder. With a frown Derlic sat up slowly, being careful not to disturb his little brother, and looked around. The moon did little to light the room, and it took a minute or two before he was able to see another lump over in Lacks' bed.

Who—oh, that's right.

Easing himself out of bed he padded noiselessly over to the other bed and laid a cautious hand on the quivering lump. The younger lad turned with a start and even in the dark Derlic could see his white face.

"Hey," he whispered. "Are you all right?"

The other lad just stared at him.

"Do you need me to go get Mum or Cousin Esmerelda or someone?"

The child shook his head, sniffing a little.

"All right..." Derlic frowned. "Do you need anything?"

"Don't know," the child whispered.

"Oh." Derlic was getting a bit frustrated. "Well, good night, then."

He turned to leave, but the younger lad's hand shot out and grabbed his nightshirt. Startled, Derlic turned back.

"Please don' go," his cousin whispered. "Ever'body keeps going an' leaving me. First Mama an' Papa, an' then Uncle Bilbo, an' now Cousin Esme an' Aunt Gilda an' ever'one."

Pity twisted in Doralic's heart. He was so young, and everyone was leaving him. Eleven years old. He was practically a baby. (For the moment he ignored the fact that he, Derlic, was only four years older than that.) He found himself nodding.

"All right," he whispered. "Just let me get my pillow."

His cousin (what was his name again?) reluctantly nodded and released his grip on the front of the nightshirt. Giving the child a reassuring smile that he probably couldn't even see Derlic hurried to his own bed, grabbed his pillow, and pulled the covers down tighter around Lacks. No need for him to get cold, after all. Returning to the bed he found that his younger cousin had moved back against the wall so that there was room for two in the bed. With another smile Derlic climbed in beside the child and settled the covers over them both.

No sooner had he laid down than a small hand latched onto the front of his nigthshirt again. Derlic frowned at this. "Feel better?" he asked wryly.

"Mm-hm," the child mumbled. "Thank you."

Derlic smiled a bit in spite of himself. "Don't mention it."

The child sniffled a little and curled up tightly. Derlic could barely make out a little white blob in his arms. Must be that stuffed cat.

"You know," he whispered, trying to change what had to be the direction of his little cousin's thoughts, "in all of the fuss earlier I completely forgot to introduce myself properly." He leaned back a bit (there was only so far that he could go with the child clinging to him like a leech) and gave an awkward lying-down bow. "Doralic Brandybuck at your service, although all of my friends call me Derlic."

The child uncoiled and 'bowed' in return. "Frodo Baggins at yours an' that of your families," he whispered shyly.

Derlic smiled. "Glad to meet you, Frodo. Hopefully I can remember that."

Frodo frowned. "Why wouldn' you?"

"Sometimes I have a hard time remembering names," Derlic confided. "But since you're my roommate I'm sure that I'll remember yours."

"Oh." A soft giggle escaped the child, quickly lost amidst the dark of the room. Then he grew still, gazing at Derlic until the deep rythymic breathing alerted the older lad that his cousin had fallen asleep. The grip on his nightshirt did not loosen.

Well, might as well make the best of it, Derlic shrugged mentally and snugged down himself, being careful not to disturb Frodo. Let's just hope that this dosen't become a habit.

He drifted off to the soft sounds of his brother's snores and his cousin's breathing.