A/N: This is my second attempt at LOTR, so although I don't have use of the 'first fic rule everyone be nice and no flames', I'd still like you to go easy on me ;-) I know Frodo angst isn't the most original thing to be writing about, but I love writing it so I'm gonna have to carry on doing it! Any ideas, constructive criticisms etc. could you leave in your reviews. Thanks a lot, love Frodo
Oh yeah, for those who are wondering when TBOTE Chapter 13 will be up, I can now give you an answer: soon!
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"Merry! Are we almost there? I'm hungry!"
The youngest hobbit of the four began to feel a yearning for afternoon tea as they trudged through the field in the late afternoon. Though they did not admit it, the other hobbits were beginning to feel exactly the same. However, Merry was as stubborn as he always was,
"Pippin, stop complaining! It's not long since we ate lunch, and you ate the most out of all of us! It's not far now anyway, and it will seem longer if you moan the whole way."
Pippin fell reluctantly silent and stared miserably out into the boggy field. The mud sucked at the bare feet of the four hobbits and a fine rain drizzled down and soon had them all soaking through. Sam shivered involuntarily,
"Whatever you're going to show us had better be worth it," He mumbled, his spirits dampened in correlation with the weather, "I'd much rather be at home infront of the fire on a dreary day like this."
Merry stopped and turned round to glare at them all,
"If all you three are going to do is whine and wail then don't say anything at all!"
"But I'm hungry!" Pippin protested feebly, "I wish we hadn't come now."
"Turn back then!" Merry replied, his eyebrows raised in a challenge, "But I think it's a sad occurance to see a Took afraid of a bit of rain and mud. Very sad indeed."
Pippin narrowed his eyes grumpily, knowing that he couldn't very well turn back now, and carried on through the bog behind Merry. Sam followed him and at the very back, a few paces behind the others, Frodo walked slowly and clumbsily.
He hadn't been feeling entirely well for the past few days, and as soon as he had set out with Merry and the others that morning he had known immediatly that he should be at home in Bag End with a hot mug of tea in front of the fire. Everything ached as he willed his feet to keep walking and there was an acidic burning in the pit of his stomach. He was hot and he could feel the sweat on his back as they walked, but he was trembling from the rain and the water stuck his curly bangs to his forehead and dripped down into his eyes, obscuring his vision. They had come miles since leaving Bag End and Frodo was beginning to wonder what could possibly be so important that Merry had to drag them all the way out into the wild to look at it.
After what seemed an age the hobbits finally reached the edge of the field and found themselves at the foot of a hill that sloped upwards and met the dark and dreary sky. It wasn't incredibly steep, but to the weary hobbits it looked like one of the towering mountains from Bilbo's tales. Pippin stared up at the slope then looked at his cousin doubtfully,
"Surely you don't want us to climb that?"
"Why ever not?" Merry asked determinedly, spitting on his hands and rubbing them together, but in his eyes there was a small hint of uncertainty.
"We should be turning back," Sam told them reasonably, "We've come a fair way and the sky will be dark soon. The Gaffer and Mr.Bilbo will be worried..."
"Nonsense!" Merry tutted, "We've still got a good few hours of daylight before the stars come out. It will be worth it when we get there, for Frodo especially."
Frodo, who had been staring absently down at the wet grass under his feet, lifted his head when he heard his name. Pippin peered at him with slight concern,
"Are you feeling well Frodo? You've gone a bit pale."
"He's just getting past it," Merry said with a mischeivious glint in his eyes, "You're getting to old and unfit for adventures now Frodo."
It was a harmless poke that frequently came up when Merry took it upon himself to pick fights with Frodo, however Frodo suddenly felt a sharp defiance. He had always been seen as too skinny and frail for a hobbit, even from an early age, and he hated his friends to think that he was weaker than the rest of them.
"I'm fine," He told them firmly, "And I'm no more unsuited for adventures than you are Merry!"
Merry shrugged and turned back to face the hill. Frodo didn't want the others knowing that he wasn't feeling sound, mainly because he didn't want to make a fuss, so he decided that he would have to show some enthusiasm,
"Come on then," He told them, forcing a smile, "If whatever Merry is taking us to is just up this hill then we can put in a last little bit of effort."
Steadily he began to walk up the hill. Merry clapped him on the back and followed him and Pippin sighed and pursued them. Sam hung back, feeling concerned for his friend. As he thought back through the day he realised that Frodo had been increasingly quiet and subdued and mostly out of sorts. He decided to keep a close watch on the hobbit as he too began the tiring ascent up the hill.
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When they finally reached the peak the hobbits were all completely exhausted and their stomachs growled in protest from the lack of food. Frodo flung himself down on the damp grass, his breathing heavy and his chest tight. His discomfort went unnoticed though, as his three friends were all feeling the strain of the climb.
"We made it!" Merry announced when he had the puff, clambering to his feet again and surveying the view from the hilltop, "Look at the Shire from here!"
Sam joined him and peered out over the fields and woodlands into the distance. Despite the overcast clouds, the view was still very clear and sure enough, nestled in patches of forest and green fields was the Shire, just a mere smudge on the horizon.
"Bless me!" Sam exclaimed, "I had no idea we had travelled so far!"
"Can you see the Brandywine?" Merry asked him enthusiastically, his finger tracing the faint blue glimmer that wound through the patchwork fields like a serpent. Sam nodded,
"Yes! And look, there's Brandy Hall!"
Pippin dragged himself up from the ground and looked sulkily at Merry with his arms folded,
"Please don't tell us you brought us all the way up here to look at the view?"
Merry shook his head secretly, "You'll have to wait and see."
"We're all tired and wanting to go home," Sam told Merry sternly, "Can't you just show us now so that we can all get back to Bag End for supper?"
Reluctantly Merry nodded and beckoned them all over to the small clump of trees that stood on the hill. The trees were tall and their trunks were thick, sheltering the hobbits from the rain that was beginning to grow heavy. Merry pushed his way through the intwining branches and his friends followed, feeling the sharp twigs pull at their clothes and scratch their arms and faces. After several minutes had passed they all stumbled into a clearing where the ground was lined with damp leaves. The trees hung over and blocked out the sky and everything was eerily silent.
"Well?" Merry asked with a grin, looking around triumphantly. The other hobbits stared at him in disbelief,
"This is it?" Pippin asked, looking around, "You dragged us all this way just to look at some TREES?!"
"Not just trees Pippin!" Merry told him impatiently, "Haven't you worked it out yet?"
He walked over to one particular tree, slightly larger than the rest, and pointed to something inscribed on its withered bark, "Come and look at this Frodo!"
Frodo slowly walked over to Merry, feeling ready to throw himself down in the leaves if it meant he would be able to sleep. With unfocused eyes he looked at the inscription, then he
blinked quickly as realisation suddenly hit him. The letters had been roughly scratched with some sort of blunt blade but Frodo could make them out clearly. There were the initials D.B then underneath was a small heart shape and underneath this were a second set of initials, P.B.
"My parents..." Frodo murmured, horrified to feel tears prick at the back of his eyes.
"You've finally figured it out!" Merry congratulated him, "Drogo Baggins loves Primula Brandybuck! This is where our parents used to come when they were tweenagers!"
Frodo didn't take his eyes from the letters on the tree but Sam looked at Merry sceptically,
"How do you know OUR parents came here? There's only one scratched bark!"
"My Mother told me about this place when I was small! She said it was a little copse on the top of a hill on the outskirts of the Shire, and no-one knew about it but them!"
Pippin and Sam glanced around the clearing again, wondering if it was actually the den from their parent's younger years. Merry was still grinning, pleased that he had impressed his friends.
"So what do you think? Was it worth the walk?"
Before any of them could reply the sky suddenly lit up with a sheet of white lightening. The four hobbits jumped in shock as the rain began to pour down on them, heavy despite the canopy of trees.
"C'mon!" Sam yelled over the roar of thunder, "We can't stay under all these trees!"
They began to stumble out of the clearing but Sam noticed Frodo still kneeling beside the tree where his parents' initials were engraved, shivering violently.
"Frodo!" He shouted urgently, grabbing his friend by the arm. As if woken from a trance, Frodo allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and he ran with Sam out of the woods. Pippin and Merry were already running quickly back down the hill. Frodo felt the rain pound down on him as he ran, his breath coming in great gasps as he struggled to keep up with the others. There was another blinding flash of lightening and Frodo stumbled and lost his footing. He felt himself crash head first to the ground and then roll over several times, his mind spinning and the thunder blaring in his ears. Dizzy and shaken, Frodo landed in a crumpled pile at the foot of the hill, feeling severely bruised. He felt someone haul him up under his arms and found himself looking blearily into Merry's face,
"Frodo?" Merry asked pressingly, "Are you all right? Did you break anything?"
The hobbit shook his head, slowly testing his trembling arms and legs. He felt Sam's arm go around him protectively,
"We have to get back to the Shire!" Sam told the others, "We can't stay here in this storm, and Mr. Frodo isn't well!"
"I'm all right..." Frodo protested weakly, pushing Sam away and attempting to stand on his own, "I'll be all right."
Another sheet of lightening illuminated the sky and was closely followed by a clap of thunder.
"It's getting closer!" Pippin whimpered fearfully, clutching at Merry. He was the youngest, barely a tweenager, and he had not experienced many storms, save the ones that had roared and threatened outside whilst he was safely tucked up in bed in Brandy Hall.
Merry looked worriedly out into the field and in the direction of home. The sky had grown dark in a matter of minutes and he knew that they could very easily lose their way. But looking up at the sky, which was threatening to erupt in another tantrum of storm at any minute, Merry saw no other option.
"We'll have to run." He told them all firmly, and Frodo raised his head in dismay. Merry ignored this, "We could freeze if we stay out here in the storm. We don't have a choice."
Pippin nodded determinedly and Sam gave looked up at the sky gravely. Frodo didn't say a word.
Chilled to the bone before they had even started, the hobbits set off at a sprint, the mud making it increasingly hard for them to gain any speed. Frodo staggered at the rear, his mind a jumble of thoughts. The initials on the tree kept appearing in his mind and he felt a hollow emptiness as they ran blindly through the storm, trying not to lose their way.
"This is mad!" Sam yelled after a while, bringing them all to a halt, "We're going to get lost if we don't calm down!"
"The storms getting worse!" Pippin shouted back, still frightened as he shook from the cold, "We have to get back to the Shire!"
While they were talking Frodo stood only semi-concious beside them, swaying slightly and his eyelids heavy. He wanted to close them so much, just to sleep. He felt hot again, burning hot, and he felt perspiration blend in with the rain on his forehead. Dizziness kept threatening to overcome him.
"I need to rest..." He told them desperately, his voice no more than a whisper. They didn't hear him as they continued to debate what they should do.
"Please..." Frodo murmured, feeling his stomach reel as the sour taste of vomit began to rise in his throat. He lurched forwards, reaching out for support. He found Sam's hand. Then he was sick, horribly and slowly, and he sunk to his knees in the mud, blinded by rain and tears.
New chapters up soon