Home is Behind, the World Ahead

by Afleet'32

Adamanta Bolo, a young hobbit, joins with the fellowship on their quest to destroy the ring. She is not a hobbit to underestimate, however. Hers is the story of a journey and all that came after...and how she discovered herself in the process.

1. My Childhood and Arrival at Bag End

Home is Behind, the World Ahead

The Tale of Adamanta Bolo, who travels on Many Adventures with Several Hobbits, a Ranger, an Elf, Men, and a Wizard

Of My Childhood And Journey to Hobbiton, in Which I Did not Plan to Go

It's a dangerous business, going outside your door.

If you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you'll be swept off to.

-Bilbo Baggins

12 July, 2981, of the Third Age

19 Afterlithe, 1381 Shire-Reckoning Time…

"Adamanta!" Mother whispered. 7 and-a-half years old, I tottered to her, holding my hands behind my back. She was dying, and I knew it. I was too small to understand, though, and too young for the memories to stay planted firmly in my head. All the memories from my childhood, with her, were uprooted by the wind and tossed away, leaving specks of dirt and seeds for my future. Tears crept down my hot cheeks as she took me into her arms one last time, and Father cried violently in the next room. The room spun as the screams shattered my sense of safety, and I crawled into bed with Mother, holding her close. Her breath left her, and I stuck my thumb in my mouth, too numb to move.

22 September, 2901, of the Third Age

1 Winterfilth, 1301, Shire-Reckoning Time...

My back broken with sweat, I raked a hoe across a stretch of dirt that seemed too stubborn to want to crumble. Father called to me, as he took off for the Green Dragon. "I want that done before I get home, hear? Then get into a clean dress cus it's Bilbo Baggins' 9oth Birthday party!" He hollered, holding his tankard in the air. I wiped sweat off my brow and put my hands on my hips, frowning at the stubborn dirt. I kicked the hoe and was about to turn to go inside. Wouldn't matter if the job was done or not. Then again, I wanted to have a good present for my 10th birthday...I pulled the hoe once more, and the dirt's hard surface finally gave in a little. I smiled. Something at last was going right, and that gave me such a clear burst of hope, that I even planned on having a jolly time at the party. Once the hard dirt was cracked I was able to plow the rest of the garden over, and stacked bags of seeds nearby for tomorrow. For now, well it was Bilbo Baggins' grand birthday party. I wiped my hands on my apron and walked round to the front of my home, the hobbit hole I adored more than anything else. It was dug into the side of a hill by my father's ancestors, and every Bolo there ever was lived there since. Primroses littered the hillside and grew over the hole, and the round door was painted a sharp yellow, every spring, by Father and me. I set a pot of water boiling, on the stone hearth, and sat in Father's easy chair, pretending to puff his pipe, so that I could have warm water in my bath. On the bed I set out a pink flowery dress and some hair ribbons for my reddish-brownish curls, dreaming of what could happen...

As I crept along with Father, I ran into several other young girls about my age. Lily Boffin was 9 and Poppy Bracegirdle was 12. It was very exciting, to meet some friends at last! Father smiled when Lily invited me to sleep-over, since now he didn't have to find chores and things for me to do! I also met Rose Cotton, and the Cotton family who Father has known for years. Rosie is 18 already but she is still very nice, as are the Gamgees and the Baggins. In fact, every family is very kind. At last, some comfort and fun for me!

30 August, 2903, of the Third Age

8 Halimath, 1303, Shire-Reckoning Time...

The warm afternoon urged us to go out, so Lily pushed back my bangs with a headband and I let my curly auburn hair fall to my waist (In the summertime, though, my hair really lightens to copper). In my favorite green dress I skipped along the road to Rosie Cotton's hobbit hole, with Lily and Poppy at my side, being extra cautious to stay under the trees so the sweat wouldn't wreck our prettying-up. I turned to whisper to Lily when she suddenly cried, "Watch out!" I turned at the last second and felt something hit me so hard the breath left my body with an "Oomph!"

I landed on my rump and glared when I saw it was only some hobbit boys, three to be exact. They were wearing jumpers and their undershirts, which must have been white at some time, were smeared with dirt. One of the boys had fair curly hair and dark eyes, one had dark curly hair and bright blue eyes, and the third had light brown hair and green eyes. I kicked myself away from them and tried to get to my feet but the fair-haired boy shoved me to the ground again. "Hey!" I cried, but he took my arm and roughly pulled me to him. "You're hostage!" He sneered. "You wanna get away, you gotta go steal me some mushrooms from Farmer Maggot!" I was so scared, I could feel my heart pulsing and pounding against the breast of my dress. "Let her go!" I heard Lily cry, and one of the other young boys matched her cry. I looked up through tear-stained cheeks. My arm hurt, and I could hear the third boy laughing at the whole thing. The fair-haired boy gave me a grin after his friend told him to let go of me, and touched my curls. "Pretty ribbons," he said, before yanking them out and dashing them to the dirt path and stepping on them. He pushed me to the ground again and took off running with his friend, but the kind boy stayed behind and bent down as I tried to get up.

"Sorry," he said, brushing the dirt away from my dress, arms, and cheeks. His eyes were big and blue, his hands were so soft, and he was so nice. I felt myself blushing as he leaned to tap some dirt off my nose, and put his hand down on mine by accident. "What's your name?" He asked me. "Adamanta... Bolo, of Bolo Gorge," I stammered, using the formal name of my hobbit hole. "What's yours?" The boy held his chin a little higher. "I'm Frodo Baggins of Bag End, Miss," he said. I could see, out of the corner of my eye, Lily frowning. Poppy stared at the ground and didn't say a thing.

"Wanna play?" Frodo asked hopefully, looking from me to Lily, but suddenly with a burst of speed the other boys were back. The one who'd pushed me to the ground sneered at me. "C'mon, Frodo," he called. "I bet she doesn't run or fight or tussle..." Grasping Frodo's arm, he pulled him to his feet and they scampered off, with Frodo wildly waving at us.

When we finally got to the Gamgees we silently sat over tea, partly because of our experience with the boys (Poppy and Lily were whispering among themselves behind my back) and partly because two other girls were there; Estella Bolger and Diamond of Long Cleeve. Rosie knew something was wrong, and came to talk to us when I told my story and how upset I was. "Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took?" She asked. "They don't mean anything. They're just silly boys." I frowned. "Frodo's not," I said, and she smiled and poured more tea. "No, Frodo's a different kind. Just like Samwise Gamgee."

I was troubled by that for awhile.

22 September 2905, of the Third Age

1 Winterfilth 1305, Shire-Reckoning Time...

Estella and Diamond and I ran along the road, hoping to catch sight of Gandalf's fireworks. They were big and bright, like hundreds of fireflies changing into glittering colors in the night air...of course they were just a lot louder. The sun was setting and Father was off getting himself drunk again with the other hobbits, but Estella and Diamond and I skipped, holding hands, between the red, blue, gold, purple, and green colored tents, only stopping when someone pet our heads and admired our silky ribbons and bouncy, curly hair. "Such lovely girls," Someone said, and I curtsied at them, feeling the soft warm moss between my toes. I bared a cheeky grin, introducing strangers to the fact that I had been extra-careful in avoiding freckles. I had worn caps and big hats all spring to ensure the fact, and was extremely proud of myself.

Rosie was serving ale, just barely old enough to, in fact. "Want some help, Rosie?" I asked her. "No, thanks," she grinned, her gold curly hair shining in the lights of the party tree. I sat near her anyway, positioning myself just so. Finally, Rosie sat down with me, blushing and smiling and waving. I bent my head. "Who's that?" I mouthed. A fair-haired hobbit lad shuffled his feet, trying to hide his embarrassment.

His face was round and sweet, and his hazel eyes darted this way and that occasionally stopping to rest on Miss Rosie.

"That's Sam," Rosie said quietly. "He's Frodo's neighbor. You know the Gamgees, don't you? On Bagshot Row?"

I stretched my head again. Someone tapped my shoulder and I whirled around, startling myself when I stared into a pair of bright blue eyes. I would know that face anywhere...

"Hi," Frodo said. "Wanna dance?" The music seemed to whistle my invitation and I yearned to stretch out a hand and take him to the dance floor. But then he was jostled by some of his friends, including Merry and Pippin, who laughed loudly at him and me. While he was blushing and snapping back at them I picked up my skirts and ran clear around the setup of tents, ducking under cake platters and trays of ale, and dodging dancing, drunken hobbits until I got back to Rosie. "What was that?" She giggled. "You ran like your skirts were aflame." I wrinkled my nose so I could see the unfashionable freckles in the corners of my eyes, ones I had missed. I hadn't been as careful as I thought.

"Dancing with boys is gross," I said, and we both laughed. Then, Rosie started staring off again, probably at that Samwise. "Would you give me a message to take to him?" I asked her. She smiled and bent down to whisper in my ear, and I took off running again.

23 February 2907, of the Third Age

3 Rethe, 1307, Shire-Reckoning Time...

For weeks, the hobbits of the Shire anticipated snow. The trees had lost their leaves, the farming season was done, and it was frightfully cold even though the Brandywine didn't freeze over like in the old stories. Even still, we girls shook with excitement at the prospect of meeting the wolves we'd heard so much about, that lived on the other side of the Brandywine and could cross it if it was stiff enough. The weather became a routine discussion at the Green Dragon as Father, his friends, my friends, and I walked the frozen paths to the pub, wrapped in cloaks and breathing white clouds. The skies were bright and gray, and everywhere children waited for the first snowfall, one that would bring blankets and happiness after Yuletide.

I was too excited, even to sleep the night of the big storm; it had finally come! I cuddled up in Bolo Gorge, just me and my father, he smoking a pipe and drinking ale and telling me stories that made me giggle. The wind howled and I snuggled deep into my winter nightgown and blankets which, though I was toasty enough, kept me extra snuggly as the hearth snapped and crackled and filled the hole with a warm glow. After a warm, hearty dinner Father and I crept to the windows and drew pictures with the white smoke left behind when we breathed on them. I drew a portrait of Father, with a goofy looking smile and his pipe, which made him bellow with laughter, and then he plucked me up as I giggled and took me outside. We stood for a few moments together, staring up at the snow which littered the Shire. I'd never seen anything so wonderful, and as I snuggled with a book beside the hearth and Father made hot chocolate, whistling all the while, I had to smile. It was one of my happiest memories since Mother died. Father tucked me into bed, and the last thing I remembered that night was curling up under the quilts on my goose-down mattress.

The next morning, the snow was still falling heavily, and I ran to the window as soon as I awoke. Father made me pancakes with lots of syrup and butter and sausages, and Lily and Estella and Diamond and Poppy came over early. We put on our heaviest dresses and wool cloaks early in the morning as the snow fell and fell. We built snowmen and rolled around in the snow, giggling the whole day. And when we were tired of that, we ran to Rosie Cotton's and her mother made us hot chocolate and sat us by the hearth, drying out our cloaks by the hot, dry fire. It was a day of perfect comforts, as we giggled together by the hearth and played "If You Dare." Rosie with red cheeks gave us a basket of hot cookies and a note to bring to Sam Gamgee and his father, the Gaffer. She asked quietly, though her mother smiled behind her back. "Would you deliver this to Samwise and the Gaffer down Bagshot Row, please?" It was our custom, especially for me, to deliver messages between them, and Samwise had become as close to me as much as he did to Rosie. But no matter how we tried, we never could get them to speak more than three words to each other in person. The girls and I laughed as we took the basket, and smiled harder still when Sam took the note and a grin stretched across his cheeks. He looked wistfully down the lane. "If you little travelers aren't busy," he smiled, "here's some cinnamon tea and some biscuits for you, and if you could take these books next door to Bag End; they're Mr. Bilbo's. And a note to Rosie, to thank her for the basket, of course..." Of course, we went to the Hill, blowing white clouds in each other's faces. I knocked, my palms shaking, and not from the cold neither. Frodo answered the door and took the books, and well, he came out with us to play, and we had a monstrous snowball fight that Sam even joined, before setting off towards the Cottons' and then home. It felt so good to be back in my warm hobbit-hole, watching the snow fall. I blew on my homemade hot chocolate and took a sip. It burned the top of my tongue and it definitely didn't taste as good as Rosie's, but I drank the whole mug down anyway.

22 September 2911, of the Third Age

1 Winterfilth 1311, Shire-Reckoning Time...

The parties seemed to be getting bigger and better every year.

Poor Frodo was ill, so he couldn't attend, but I had fun with Diamond, Estella, and Lily. Poppy's head had gotten much bigger than she herself had, and she seemed to believe she was already 33, much better than the rest of us 20-year-olds (except I, who would turn 21 very, very soon)! I laughed thinking of it, while Lily and Estella made faces at Rosie from afar. She has fancied Samwise Gamgee for years and years and still won't do a darn about it! I had to elbow Sam to get him to stop staring, and despite his unknown fear of talking to Rosie, he's really nice and lots of fun. We played crazy games and danced the night away, and when I turned round Merry actually asked me to dance! I glowered at him. I was still mad about what he did to me just to make fun, all those years ago. Lily seemed mad, too, and we took arms and walked away, chins in the air, after pushing him into his fancy, Estella. The Took family was there, too, but luckily I didn't see Pippin. He was just as terrible as his cousin. Despite a fun night, though I was pretty miffed Frodo wasn't there. Maybe next time.

3 March 2915, of the Third Age

13 Rethe 1315, Shire-Reckoning Time...

Father said I could start working in the Green Dragon if I really wanted to. As soon as he said it, I told him I was going off to see Rosie, who is a good person to talk to in difficult situations. It was a time I really wished Mother were there...Father's been doing the best he can but with just me, and me being a girl, and all my friends of course being girls it has been very hard on him. Just yesterday afternoon I tried asking about what was happening to me, because Mrs. Cotton mentioned something about 'monthlies' and me becoming a woman soon...and he just blushed and avoided the subject while puffing on his pipe. But him talking about me working was a definite sign things were changing. Estella and Diamond probably know. They all have big families and can know these things. Even the boys are acting different, like something's changed. Last year at Bilbo's party they all stared goggle-eyed like something was terribly wrong...and if they had something to say they were very kind, even Merry and Pippin. They whisper and talk behind their hands and won't touch a girl unless they're playing "If You Dare" and do it. Frodo hasn't talked to any of us either. The boys stick to their own selves and their own trouble... But when I peered into the study tonight, after getting home, Father was bent over a painting of Mother, and he was sobbing. Terrible, wrenching sobs. I cried myself to sleep.

5 July 3018, of the Third Age

12 Afterlithe, 1418, Shire-Reckoning Time...

It could have been like another of Bilbo's parties, since nearly the whole Shire was at our hobbit hole. Except they were coming to pay respects and not to have fun. It was a solemn, solitary, and overall, sorrowful day for me. Even though I was 27 I crept under the table and hid while hobbits whispered amongst themselves in black gowns and suits. Frodo and Mr. Bilbo were there, and the Tooks, the Brandybucks, the Cottons, the Gamgees, the Longcleeves, and the Bolgers. I dug my face into my arms, ignoring all the comforts Estella, Diamond, and Rosie tried to bestow on me. No one could do anything. My father had been sick, sicker than he'd ever been before, and I couldn't do anything to help him...I wept into Sam's chest when he got me to my feet and Rosie gave him a smile of thanks. I turned round, since everyone seemed to want to talk to me, and Frodo was standing there, looking lost. Without a word he embraced me, and my eyes filled with hot, wet tears. My face screwed up and I felt like I was screaming, but nothing came but the tears. I wrapped my arms around him and didn't let go, even when he brushed the tears away with his fingertips and kissed the top of my head. After the visitors had died down and everything had dwindled dry, including emotion, I crawled back into my hiding space under the table. There was another problem that made my heart wrench, and that was where I was to live. Father was buried and the hobbit hole's door was closed. It wasn't seemly...I couldn't live alone, and wasn't old enough to marry. I desperately wanted to go with the Cottons, or the Bolgers, or someone...but their families just couldn't take on another child. I was so used to being the only child I had forgotten other families were much, much larger than mine.

7 September 3017, of the Third Age

15 Halimath 1417, Shire-Reckoning Time...

I've been living with the Cottons and it's more than I can bear. I want to shut myself away but I have to help with the little ones, and Rosie's been working harder and harder down at the Green Dragon. That is, until the Gaffer and Sam came to call, along with Bilbo. "Mr. Bilbo's letting Merry, Pippin, and I stay down in Bag End before his 111th birthday," Sam told us. "After that he'd be happy to let Adamanta live there. I would, but I don't think she'd be happy on her own all the time. At least she'd have Frodo round, and she knows Mr. Bilbo well. He would give her good company, I bargain it." I perked up instantly. Bag End was a wondrous place, and though I was miffed about not being able to stay at the Gamgees, I knew he was right. It was just the Gaffer and Sam there, and Sam was old enough to think about getting married and living on his own. Frodo would at least be a friend to me, since Bag End was his, and Mr. Bilbo wasn't going anywhere. "If it's alright, Mrs. Cotton, we'll come get Adamanta in a fortnight, before Mr. Bilbo's party. He was the one who offered to take her..." I sat, still and rigid. Mrs. Cotton sighed. "I suppose, if it really is alright with Mr. Baggins...I know there aren't any..." Sam nodded, knowing she was about to say women. "I think it'll be good for her." I clutched the arms of the chair I was sitting in and Rosie smoothed my skirt nervously. "Well, Adamanta, what do you think?" she asked, a sad smile playing at her lips. My eyes left Rosie and took to the floor, instantly attracted. "If..." I said, and then shook my head. "I'd love to stay, Mrs. Cotton, but I know it's taking a toll on you..." I said quietly. "I'll go to Bag End, Mrs. Cotton. If you ever need me..." I gulped. "You'll know where to...where to...where to..." Tears again. Sam and Rosie both hugged me at once, and then jerked away. It startled me into laughter, and I got to my feet to hug them again.

21 September 3017, of the Third Age

21 Halimath 1417, Shire-Reckoning Time...

"You have everything?" Rosie asked, folding dresses and stowing them in my pack.

"Yes," I said, kneeling on the floor and rolling a blanket. A few hair ribbons lay on the floor. I picked them up, along with my cloak. Rosie handed the pack over and I put it over my shoulders, pulling the straps uncomfortably.

We looked at each other.

Behind my head I'd heard a knock and Sam's quiet hello to Mrs. Cotton.

"Adamanta," she called.

Feeling woozy, I groaned quietly. Rosie followed me down the hall to Sam, wordless. Rosie's siblings stared curiously as Sam took my arm and nodded once.

"I'll see you all soon," I said, but I knew that wouldn't be true. Everything was changing now. Still, Rosie waved till Sam and I had left her threshold and rounded a corner of the road. I didn't speak to him, just followed quietly, shuffling my feet as we took the same path that Poppy, Lily, Estella, Diamond and I had trod hundreds and hundreds of times in the years before. I wasn't likely to see it again.

My father's death was still in my mind and the last two months had been the closest thing to a family I knew I'd ever have, ever again. At least there was Bilbo's party to look forward to, if the day ever came. The Hill climbed in front of my eyes, closer than ever, more beautiful than any hobbit hole I'd ever chanced to meet. I'd often only seen it from afar.

Sam was gazing at me with a look of sorrow and pity as we reached the top of the Hill. I gazed at the ground and then looked around me, where miles of beautiful green hills and hobbit holes stretched from the base of the Hill. Farmlands and grazing animals dotted the green with brown flecks, looking more like little beetles than cows and pigs. It was in that scene that I realized I had fallen in love with this part of Hobbiton all over again. It seemed so long since I'd been there; staying in the Cotton's hole didn't share its beauty. And I realized at last, why Bag End had been built at the top of the Hill. I could remember myself, looking at Mr. Bilbo as though he were utterly insane! The thought forced my lips to crack a smile. I could picture Mr. Bilbo's kind smile at the hobbits' hundred and one stupid questions.

"Why build it on a hill? It isn't fashionable, dear Bilbo...there isn't room for a field or garden..."

I stared at the scene. Being hobbitish, to me it didn't always make sense, why things happened the way they did, but there was always a good reason with a Baggins.

As Sam walked me to the round, green door of Bag End, talking on and on as quickly as he could, the door flung open and I took a jerked step backwards, for there stood Frodo. His blue eyes widened with the sight of me and Sam, and he cleared his throat and attempted to tame his brown curly hair; his mouth frozen in a slightly surprised expression.

"Hello," he said, staring me into my own green eyes. "Welcome to Bag End."