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Memories

Year 1379 Shire Reckoning

Frodo was eleven when he first saw him hit her. It wasn't unusual for Uncle Saradoc and Aunt Esmeralda to get into arguments - they often did - but never once had Saradoc hit his wife. Frodo had been coming around the corner into the kitchen when he saw it. He immediately froze, afraid of being caught.

"I know what I'm doing! I don't need a woman to tell me how to do my job!" Saradoc was yelling. This must be something about his work keeping things in order at the Hall.

Frodo peeked around the corner to see what was going on. Esmeralda was trembling, but she wasn't crying. In fact, she had on the most impassive look on her face that Frodo had ever seen. Surely Esmeralda would do something about this! She wasn't the type of person to just stand there and take a beating-

"Of course, Saradoc, I'm sorry for suggesting anything."

Frodo gaped at his aunt. Why would she say that? And why is she acting so calm about this? A husband beating his wife wasn't a normal thing-

Unless it was.

Saradoc grunted, patted his wife's cheek, and began walking towards the doorway where Frodo was standing. The little lad immediately dashed off toward his room and away from the scene he'd just witnessed.

As he jumped on his bed, a million thoughts ran through the boy's mind. It all made sense as he thought about it. Esmeralda often spoke hesitantly around Saradoc, and bowed her head after addressing him or asking a question. When he was upset or frustrated, she would flinch when he got close. He must have been beating her for a while now, and no one even knew!

But now Frodo knew. And now that he knew, there had to be some way of stopping it. He couldn't let this go on. He should confront Saradoc. But would the older Hobbit even listen to him? He had to try; for Esmeralda.

Frodo considered telling his parents, but that would just cause trouble, and Frodo didn't want to cause any trouble that might come back and hurt his aunt. No, Frodo must do this alone.

The next morning, after first breakfast, Frodo went up to Saradoc's office door and knocked on it. "Yes?" He heard his uncle ask. Frodo opened the door and stuck his head in. "Ah, Frodo, my lad, come on in!" Good, he was in a good mood. That should help with what Frodo had to do.

"Good morning, Uncle." Frodo said kindly as he stepped up to the desk.

Saradoc smiled. "Is there something I can do for you?" Frodo nodded.

"May I ask you a question?" Frodo asked, staring at the ground, too afraid to look up.

"Of course, go on and have a seat." Saradoc motioned to the seat next to Frodo. Frodo sat, still not looking up. "What is it that you wish to know?"

Frodo gulped. Looking up into his uncle's grey eyes, he said, "Well, uh, last night I was going into the kitchen to get a snack, and I heard… something."

Saradoc's eyes hardened slightly, just slightly, and he pressed, "Heard what?"

Frodo fidgeted. "I heard a smack, and a cry, then some shouting… I saw you hit Aunt Esme. It scared me." Frodo looked away from Saradoc, but the elder's gaze never left Frodo.

Finally, Saradoc looked away, and sighed. "Frodo, let me explain something to you. There is an order to the Shire. Not everyone is the same. You know here at Brandy Hall that we have servants, right?"

Frodo nodded, unsure of where this was going. Saradoc continued, "Well, they come from a lower group of people. We are above them. Within the two classes, upper and lower, there is another way to classify betters: men and women."

He paused to see if Frodo was still with him. Frodo frowned, not really liking the sound of this, but nodded anyway to show that he understood. This was starting to sound worse than he'd thought it would.

"Men are stronger, faster, bigger, and smarter then women; therefore, we are better then them." Saradoc paused, smirking. "And sometimes, Frodo, the women need to remember their place. That is why I hit your aunt. You have nothing to worry about."

Frodo was still confused, but didn't say anything. Saradoc chuckled. "Ah, you'll understand when you're older." The older Hobbit ruffled Frodo's dark brown curls, then sent him out of the office.

Frodo had a lot of thinking to do that night.

TWO YEARS LATER

Frodo was now thirteen, and had figured out that he did not like this "classification system" among Hobbits. Ever since his parents died, he'd been spending more and more time with Aunt Esme. Ever since the talk he had with Saradoc, Frodo has paid more and more attention to his aunt then ever before.

Saradoc, ever since the talk, and even more so since Frodo's parents died, has been less and less wary around Frodo. In fact, one night, when Saradoc was really drunk, he had Frodo come into the room so he could show him how to discipline a woman.

It was horrible, watching Aunt Esme get hurt. It was when she looked at Frodo with tear-filled eyes that he knew he had to stop this madness. He threw himself in between his aunt and uncle, yelling at Saradoc to stop.

He did stop, looked from his wife to his nephew, and frowned. "Stupid boy, don't you have any respect?" he spat. Shooting a glare at his wife, but choosing to let whatever she'd done go, Saradoc focused on the thirteen year old before him. "Of course you don't! You've been spending too much time with her! You are just as weak as her!"

Before Frodo knew it, he was knocked aside by Saradoc's fist. Instant pain shot through his jaw and his head was pounding with the pain. There was no time to catch his breath, for Saradoc laid another punch into him on the other side.

Esmeralda was sobbing, and so was Frodo, but he knew better than to fight back. Never once had Saradoc hit him, but he should've known this would happen by protecting Esmeralda - and every punch and every kick that wasn't aimed at her was a blessing. Frodo knew he had done his job right now that she was out of range.

This night proved to be the first of many. Every time he saw Saradoc hit or try to hit his wife, Frodo got in the way and distracted him. These beatings became more frequent as old Gorbadoc's health lessened and Saradoc's rise to the title of Master more prominent. The title of Master only meant more of the work Saradoc was actually doing, and if the work he had been doing was stressful, then this only made things worse.

No matter how bad things got, Frodo thought, as long as he was there, it would be just him Saradoc had to beat. He had no way to his wife, and he wouldn't dare hit a servant, for fear of word getting around. And, most thankfully of all, he had no children he could beat and batter or raise up to be like him.