This is my very first fanfic attempt, so please give me feedback, even
flames. Lots more chapters coming!
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"Estella!" Fredegar howled. "The sun will set before we leave, at the rate you're moving!"
"I would have left by now if I could find my green trunk," I yelled back, running into the front hall. "The one with the broken handle!"
Fredegar was already in the doorway, looking a bit haggard. It was six in the morning, after all - much earlier than he was accustomed to waking.
"It's already in the cart, Stella," he said. "Calm down."
I blinked sheepishly. "Oh. Sorry."
Fredegar heaved a sigh. "Then let's go."
"Wait!" I held up a cautioning hand as I mentally ran through my list of things to load onto the cart. "All right. I think - we're ready."
Fredegar turned and shambled out the door. "Then let's go!" he repeated.
I slowly turned one more time, scanning the hall for some divine sign of something I had forgotten, and then jogged after my brother before he could start yelling again.
I clambered onto the seat of the cart next to Fredegar and exhaled. "All right, all right. Let's go."
"Finally," he muttered, and with a flip of the reins and a sharp "Get up!" the ponycart lurched forward.
I let out a long groan. "I can't believe I'm actually going back."
Fredegar grunted. "Is that good or bad?"
"Well, good, I suppose. I haven't even visited Buckland since my tweens. It's not such a big thing for you, you've lived there -"
He shuddered as if struck by a sudden chill. I leaped to put a comforting arm around his shoulders and went on hurriedly, " - not that you enjoyed it, of course, but before - when we were young - I was so sad to leave!"
"You're not usually this giddy," Fredegar commented dryly, pretending he hadn't been bothered by even my passing reference to his last stay in Buckland.
"I know!" I exclaimed, and to my profound embarrassment couldn't prevent a giggle from escaping me. "I can't wait!"
My brother squirmed free of my arm and frowned at the pony, who was slowing. He slapped the reins against her back and muttered, "Well, hurry up and wait. We won't be crossing the Brandywine until late afternoon at the earliest."
I sat back in silence for a moment, then snuck a sideways glance at him. "You look as if you're going to fall asleep sitting up."
"Really? No!" Fredegar exclaimed brightly. "Not me! I adore rousing myself at unearthly hours! I find it positively invigorating!"
"Give me the reins."
"No! I need invigoration!"
After a brief scuffle, Fredegar was snoring softly, sprawled across one of my trunks, and I was clucking to the mare to coax her into a trot.
"Slug," I said, sticking my tongue out at the prostrate form behind me and grinning. Turning back around, I couldn't help murmuring a tune old Bilbo used to sing when I was a child:
The road goes ever on and on,
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.
I fell silent then. Buckland. I hadn't been over the Brandywine for many long years - since I was barely a tween, far before Sharkey's time. Like my brother, I could not suppress a shudder at the thought. Tuckborough was far from Frogmorton, or even Hobbiton or Bywater, but no hamlet in the Shire was immune to Sharkey's poison, and we had all suffered. Especially poor Fred. If Meriadoc and Peregrin hadn't rescued him when they did, he might well have died.
Which brought me to another stone in my shoe. Fred and I were moving back to Buckland - where the great Captains Peregrin and Meriadoc still lived. Fred had never fallen out of contact with them, but it had been so long since I had last seen them that I could hardly imagine calling them Pippin and Merry as I once had - much less my more commonly used Pipsqueak and Stupid. I laughed out loud at the thought - I used to hate my brother's supremely annoying partners in torment, but now they were heroes held in awe across the four farthings! But what should I say? How should I act? Would they even remember me? I half-wished they would not, for although they had teased me mercilessly, I had had no qualms about returning the favor. And by now they were probably big-headed with fame and too important to remember an old friend's baby sister.
I frowned to myself. "Still Pipsqueak and Stupid, I'll bet," I grumbled, then spoke in a high, mocking imitation. "Look, Merry, it's Stella. Give us a kiss, lass. 'Twill be your first and last!"
"Wha?" asked Fred rather blearily, sitting up.
"Nothing," I replied hurriedly, then recovered and grinned impishly. "Just thinking out loud. I do know why you were so eager to move back east with me, though."
"And why, pray tell, is that?" He was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
I gave him a playful shove. "Oh, come on, Fred. 'Tis plain as the nose on your face you're hopelessly smitten with Celandine Brandybuck."
He jerked upright, fully awake. "Why you little - !" He grabbed for me; I ducked, whooped with joy, and slapped the reins against the pony's back with more vigor than I ever had in my life. She shot off like a rocket and Fred, caught unprepared, was thrown backwards into the trunks again.
"Ha!" I cried triumphantly, standing on the seat as Fred struggled to disentangle himself. "The truth always prevails, Fred! Always!"
My glee was abruptly cut short as the mare, left briefly to her own devices while I gloated, promptly managed to drag the cart into the ditch running along the side of the road. The cart lurched wildly; I lost my balance and leaped clear, landing with spectacular grace - backside first - in a large and rather convenient bush. The mare skidded to a halt, standing fetlock-deep in ditch water and regarding me with a puzzled look, as Fred painfully clambered down to the ground.
"I really hope you learned a lesson from that," he said grimly.
"Not to tell you the embarrassing truth?" I suggested brightly, then winced as a particularly sharp twig poked my leg.
"Very good. Keep that in mind." He gave me a twisted smile. "Oh - and you do look as if you might need a hand. Good luck; there's not a soul on this road for leagues."
"Fred!" I wailed, struggling wildly to escape the tangle of leaves, but to no avail. "Help me!"
He gave me a sarcastic grin in response and turned to pull out our food basket, squinting toward to sun as he did so. "Looks like it's time for second breakfast," he commented meditatively.
I made various pitiful noises as my brother unpacked a hearty meal and tucked in with enthusiasm - then moved on to my own packet. "Fred," I moaned. "Please."
"I'm hungry, and you are conveniently indisposed."
"You'll be Fatty again within the week, at the rate you're going," I grumbled.
He glanced up then, and there was a curious vulnerability in his eyes. "Good," he said softly. "I'd rather go back to the way things used to be."
I was immediately ashamed of myself for hurting him just to provoke a reaction. Fred had suffered more than anyone I knew during the brief dominion of the Boss. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that," I said.
"Maybe not," he replied. "It doesn't matter." He hoisted himself up and walked over to me. "Come on." I grabbed his hand and he pulled me to my feet.
"Thank you. And I'm sorry," I repeated.
Fred shrugged. I cursed myself inwardly as he turned and sat down again. He was still very thin for a hobbit, though his appetite was as avid as ever - his time in the Lockholes had damaged his health. I kneeled beside him.
"Fred, are you all right?" To my surprise and alarm, silent tears were running down his cheeks. "Fred," I murmured. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, Stella," he sobbed suddenly. "I wish nothing had ever changed."
I hugged him tightly. "So do I. So do all of us. But we've got to make do with what we have."
We sat there without speaking for a few moments; then Fred sat back, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. He pushed himself up, exhaled a deep breath, and bent over to begin packing up the food basket. I joined him wordlessly. After the basket was tucked in the back of the cart again, I gave Fred another quick hug. "I'm really sorry," I whispered.
He waved me off, climbing into the cart. "It's all right. Not your fault." I followed him up to the seat and he clucked to the mare; she strained momentarily to heave the wheels out of the small ditch, and then we were off once again.
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I know! I know! I'm slow to get started. I'm very sorry. Yes, it will take me a couple of chapters before there is ANY mushy stuff heheheh.but just bear with me. In the meantime PLEASE review! Ü
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"Estella!" Fredegar howled. "The sun will set before we leave, at the rate you're moving!"
"I would have left by now if I could find my green trunk," I yelled back, running into the front hall. "The one with the broken handle!"
Fredegar was already in the doorway, looking a bit haggard. It was six in the morning, after all - much earlier than he was accustomed to waking.
"It's already in the cart, Stella," he said. "Calm down."
I blinked sheepishly. "Oh. Sorry."
Fredegar heaved a sigh. "Then let's go."
"Wait!" I held up a cautioning hand as I mentally ran through my list of things to load onto the cart. "All right. I think - we're ready."
Fredegar turned and shambled out the door. "Then let's go!" he repeated.
I slowly turned one more time, scanning the hall for some divine sign of something I had forgotten, and then jogged after my brother before he could start yelling again.
I clambered onto the seat of the cart next to Fredegar and exhaled. "All right, all right. Let's go."
"Finally," he muttered, and with a flip of the reins and a sharp "Get up!" the ponycart lurched forward.
I let out a long groan. "I can't believe I'm actually going back."
Fredegar grunted. "Is that good or bad?"
"Well, good, I suppose. I haven't even visited Buckland since my tweens. It's not such a big thing for you, you've lived there -"
He shuddered as if struck by a sudden chill. I leaped to put a comforting arm around his shoulders and went on hurriedly, " - not that you enjoyed it, of course, but before - when we were young - I was so sad to leave!"
"You're not usually this giddy," Fredegar commented dryly, pretending he hadn't been bothered by even my passing reference to his last stay in Buckland.
"I know!" I exclaimed, and to my profound embarrassment couldn't prevent a giggle from escaping me. "I can't wait!"
My brother squirmed free of my arm and frowned at the pony, who was slowing. He slapped the reins against her back and muttered, "Well, hurry up and wait. We won't be crossing the Brandywine until late afternoon at the earliest."
I sat back in silence for a moment, then snuck a sideways glance at him. "You look as if you're going to fall asleep sitting up."
"Really? No!" Fredegar exclaimed brightly. "Not me! I adore rousing myself at unearthly hours! I find it positively invigorating!"
"Give me the reins."
"No! I need invigoration!"
After a brief scuffle, Fredegar was snoring softly, sprawled across one of my trunks, and I was clucking to the mare to coax her into a trot.
"Slug," I said, sticking my tongue out at the prostrate form behind me and grinning. Turning back around, I couldn't help murmuring a tune old Bilbo used to sing when I was a child:
The road goes ever on and on,
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.
I fell silent then. Buckland. I hadn't been over the Brandywine for many long years - since I was barely a tween, far before Sharkey's time. Like my brother, I could not suppress a shudder at the thought. Tuckborough was far from Frogmorton, or even Hobbiton or Bywater, but no hamlet in the Shire was immune to Sharkey's poison, and we had all suffered. Especially poor Fred. If Meriadoc and Peregrin hadn't rescued him when they did, he might well have died.
Which brought me to another stone in my shoe. Fred and I were moving back to Buckland - where the great Captains Peregrin and Meriadoc still lived. Fred had never fallen out of contact with them, but it had been so long since I had last seen them that I could hardly imagine calling them Pippin and Merry as I once had - much less my more commonly used Pipsqueak and Stupid. I laughed out loud at the thought - I used to hate my brother's supremely annoying partners in torment, but now they were heroes held in awe across the four farthings! But what should I say? How should I act? Would they even remember me? I half-wished they would not, for although they had teased me mercilessly, I had had no qualms about returning the favor. And by now they were probably big-headed with fame and too important to remember an old friend's baby sister.
I frowned to myself. "Still Pipsqueak and Stupid, I'll bet," I grumbled, then spoke in a high, mocking imitation. "Look, Merry, it's Stella. Give us a kiss, lass. 'Twill be your first and last!"
"Wha?" asked Fred rather blearily, sitting up.
"Nothing," I replied hurriedly, then recovered and grinned impishly. "Just thinking out loud. I do know why you were so eager to move back east with me, though."
"And why, pray tell, is that?" He was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
I gave him a playful shove. "Oh, come on, Fred. 'Tis plain as the nose on your face you're hopelessly smitten with Celandine Brandybuck."
He jerked upright, fully awake. "Why you little - !" He grabbed for me; I ducked, whooped with joy, and slapped the reins against the pony's back with more vigor than I ever had in my life. She shot off like a rocket and Fred, caught unprepared, was thrown backwards into the trunks again.
"Ha!" I cried triumphantly, standing on the seat as Fred struggled to disentangle himself. "The truth always prevails, Fred! Always!"
My glee was abruptly cut short as the mare, left briefly to her own devices while I gloated, promptly managed to drag the cart into the ditch running along the side of the road. The cart lurched wildly; I lost my balance and leaped clear, landing with spectacular grace - backside first - in a large and rather convenient bush. The mare skidded to a halt, standing fetlock-deep in ditch water and regarding me with a puzzled look, as Fred painfully clambered down to the ground.
"I really hope you learned a lesson from that," he said grimly.
"Not to tell you the embarrassing truth?" I suggested brightly, then winced as a particularly sharp twig poked my leg.
"Very good. Keep that in mind." He gave me a twisted smile. "Oh - and you do look as if you might need a hand. Good luck; there's not a soul on this road for leagues."
"Fred!" I wailed, struggling wildly to escape the tangle of leaves, but to no avail. "Help me!"
He gave me a sarcastic grin in response and turned to pull out our food basket, squinting toward to sun as he did so. "Looks like it's time for second breakfast," he commented meditatively.
I made various pitiful noises as my brother unpacked a hearty meal and tucked in with enthusiasm - then moved on to my own packet. "Fred," I moaned. "Please."
"I'm hungry, and you are conveniently indisposed."
"You'll be Fatty again within the week, at the rate you're going," I grumbled.
He glanced up then, and there was a curious vulnerability in his eyes. "Good," he said softly. "I'd rather go back to the way things used to be."
I was immediately ashamed of myself for hurting him just to provoke a reaction. Fred had suffered more than anyone I knew during the brief dominion of the Boss. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that," I said.
"Maybe not," he replied. "It doesn't matter." He hoisted himself up and walked over to me. "Come on." I grabbed his hand and he pulled me to my feet.
"Thank you. And I'm sorry," I repeated.
Fred shrugged. I cursed myself inwardly as he turned and sat down again. He was still very thin for a hobbit, though his appetite was as avid as ever - his time in the Lockholes had damaged his health. I kneeled beside him.
"Fred, are you all right?" To my surprise and alarm, silent tears were running down his cheeks. "Fred," I murmured. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, Stella," he sobbed suddenly. "I wish nothing had ever changed."
I hugged him tightly. "So do I. So do all of us. But we've got to make do with what we have."
We sat there without speaking for a few moments; then Fred sat back, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. He pushed himself up, exhaled a deep breath, and bent over to begin packing up the food basket. I joined him wordlessly. After the basket was tucked in the back of the cart again, I gave Fred another quick hug. "I'm really sorry," I whispered.
He waved me off, climbing into the cart. "It's all right. Not your fault." I followed him up to the seat and he clucked to the mare; she strained momentarily to heave the wheels out of the small ditch, and then we were off once again.
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I know! I know! I'm slow to get started. I'm very sorry. Yes, it will take me a couple of chapters before there is ANY mushy stuff heheheh.but just bear with me. In the meantime PLEASE review! Ü