Untimely
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer, I do not own any Lord of the Rings or any characters from said work of fiction. Kendrick is owned by a friend of mine, who has allowed me the use of his character.
– –
Laughter echoed through the warm autumn air. The dusk sky was aflame with brilliant reds and oranges that bled into the cooler violet hue of coming night. The little creatures were having a party. It knew...even if it never had one. One does not need to experience something to know what it is. The smells from the pastries and meats were sickeningly sweet. It felt that it was quite a shame to be cooking meat so. Meat was best served warm and juicy. Living and screaming.
The little creatures it watched were none the wiser to its presence. It preferred it that way. It wondered what they would taste like. Would they be sour and chewy like a Dwarf, or would they be soft and fruity like an Elf. Humans were its favorite with their buttery flavor.
–
The celebration was finally dying down. It was getting awfully late, and old Bilbo didn't have the stamina he once had. If only he still had his Ring. Thinking about the Ring had him thinking about the adventure he had gone on so many years ago. He wondered how the remaining company of Dwarves were doing. He had been quite sad to hear that old Balin had passed on. However, he was glad that the old Dwarf had gone out with a fight. As Bilbo was certain he would have wanted. The old Hobbit banished the thought of the Ring from his mind. It was gone now. Maybe it was for the best that it was gone.
It had only been a few weeks since the retaking of the Shire. He hadn't been there to see, but he heard that the Sackville-Bagginses were up to their old tricks. The clan was all huff and no puff though. It didn't take his dear nephew or his friends long to deal with the errant Hobbits or the mysterious men who backed them up. The men had all but walked out of the shire as soon as the company of Hobbits returned from their adventure. Leaving Lotho Sackville-Baggins to wallow in his excuses. Especially after having locked his own mother in the lock holes. Word had it that she still wasn't speaking to him.
The old Hobbit hobbled his way back towards Bag End. He hadn't gone far when Frodo caught up with him.
"Here Uncle, let me help you," Frodo offered his arm to his uncle. Bilbo took the offered arm. He hated being a burden to the younger Hobbit, but he couldn't hide the fact that his old legs just weren't what they used to be.
"Ah, Thank you lad. But what about you?" Bilbo asked. Frodo hadn't been the same since coming back from his adventure. The young spunky lad he knew now seemed like an old haggard Hobbit. Instead of getting into trouble with his friends, Frodo spent most of his days either reading or cleaning. Bilbo guessed that the four of them had gotten into enough trouble on their adventure to last a lifetime. Sometimes he didn't know who was the older of the two of them anymore.
"I'll be alright," Frodo said. He rubbed his right shoulder. The gesture didn't go unnoticed by Bilbo, but he kept his silence about it nonetheless. The two continued their walk toward Bag End. They'd clean the mess from the party in the morning.
–
Frodo returned to their table with four half pints in hand. The atmosphere was lively and merry. Hobbit lads and lasses were drinking, dancing, and laughing. However, the four friends seemed unmoved by the cheer. The quest had changed all of them. They had experienced things that no other Hobbit could possibly understand.
Sam stared into his drink. The songs and cheers from the patrons was but a dull, incoherent roar to him. He was lost in thought. Though he was still exhausted from the journey, it was nothing compared to the fatigue Frodo was burdened with. Sam worried about his friend and employer. The Ring had taken so much from him.
"Rosie, another round!" a jovial patron called.
Sam's ears perked at hearing Rosie's name. The four of them had been sitting there for over half an hour and he had not once noticed Rosie. His childhood friend looked as well as she ever did. The Gardener's ears reddened when he remembered confessing to Frodo that if he would marry, he would marry her. Sam steeled his nerves and made his way to his lady fair.
Frodo barely noticed Sam get up from his seat. He might not have bothered to turn and look where his friend was going if not for the giddiness on Merry's and Pippin's faces. Frodo immediately saw why. He couldn't help but smile for his friend. Sam seemed a little bashful when talking to Rosie, but it didn't take the Hobbit lass long to pull him into a dance. Frodo couldn't help but laugh when he noticed that Rosie was the one leading.
"I had all but forgotten how to enjoy the simple things. It seems so long ago when we would steal mushrooms from Farmer Maggot then get a half stern scolding from Uncle Bilbo. I'm glad Sam figured it out. How to move on past the Ring," Frodo said.
"Try to cheer up Frodo. We're home, and the Ring is gone." Pippin said. The young Took's words haunted Frodo. Yes, the Ring was gone, but he had failed. The Ring had taken him in the end. If not for Gollum, then Sauron would have won. Merry popped Pippin on the arm for his comment.
"Ow, what?" Pippin cried as he rubbed his sore arm.
"What Pip' means Frodo is that it can't hurt you anymore. It doesn't matter who or what threw it in. The point is it's gone," Merry tried his best to console his friend.
"It's just that I'm tired of being weak. Sam, You, and Pippin fought when all I could do was run," Frodo lamented. He took a large gulp of his ale, hoping that the alcohol to numb his brain.
"Don't you be saying such stupid things. None of us could have done what you did," Merry said.
"Listen to Merry. Yeah, you gave into the Ring, but think about it this way. You outlasted Isildur. He only had the Ring a few hours before he gave in, and he was a powerful Numenorean King. So cheer up and have a drink for Sam and his new lady," Pippin downed his half pint in one go. He would have toppled over his chair had Merry not steadied him. Merry half glared at the younger Hobbit. Even though he was right, his choice of words were often times poor. However, Pippin's words and actions had their desired effect. Frodo couldn't help but laugh at his Took cousin's antics.
–
It was late before the friends departed for their homes. Pippin hobbled and wobbled back to the Great Smials. Merry decided to accompany him since Buckland was too far to travel this time of night. Plus Pippin had a habit of waking up in strange places if allowed to wander by himself after a few too many half pints.
"Meeerrrrryyy. I'm f'thine," Pippin whined. The young Hobbit could barely keep his feet straight.
"Oh no. We'll not have you waking up affixed to Farmer Maggot's scarecrow again. Aunt Eglantine would kill me if you didn't make it home because you were drunk." Merry scolded his younger cousin.
Frodo and Sam headed home to Hobbiton. The walk was quiet and peaceful. The night air was cool, but not cold. Sam's cheeks were aglow with love. He and Rosie would have danced the night away had she not been working. Frodo gave a knowing smile to his companion. He was glad that Sam was moving on from the Ring.
The two friends bade each other goodnight when they reached Sam's smial. The ale had all but worn off by the time Frodo had reached Bag End. As he reached for the door, a cold wind blew past him. Though cool breezes were not uncommon in the Shire this time of night and at this time of year, this one chilled Frodo to the bone.
"Frodo..." a sinister whisper called.
Fear ran through Frodo's body. He grabbed for the door handle. He turned the round knob and made haste into the smial. Fear still coursed through his body, though he knew he was now safe inside. He slid down onto the floor and cradled his head into his knees. Hot tears ran down his face as tried to hold back his sobs. He was ashamed. Ashamed to be so afraid, and in his own home. Bilbo's loud snoring brought the younger Baggins out of his thoughts. He mustered the strength to pick himself up off of the floor, and made his way to his room. But not before locking the front door against potential intruders.
It watched it's prey fumble for the door knob to his house. The sweet scent of fear permeated the early morning air. The little one quickly retreated into the little hole. It let an hour pass before it made its way to the home. It surveyed the habitat of its prey. Searching for an entrance close to its prey and easy to access. It came upon its prey's bedroom window. The small thing slept restlessly. It watched its prey for some time. It brushed its talons tenderly across the window pane. It continued to watch its prey as a mother would watch her sleeping babe.
Dawn light began to peak over the horizon when it decided to return to its hiding place. The red cloth of its cloak fluttered about its gangly frame as it retreated to the hole that was its temporary abode. It grinned at the still fresh image of its little one tossing and turning in his little bed.
–
Frodo was in agony. The scar from the Morgul blade seared with pain. It felt like it had back on that fateful night when he received the wound. Only now it seemed like the blade was red hot and being twisted by the hand that wielded it. It was all he could do to not scream.
The pain and the weakness from his restless sleep confined Frodo to his bed. It also robbed him of his appetite. He could barely hold down the tea that Bilbo would bring him. Frodo managed little naps here and there. By midday the pain in his shoulder was beginning to make him delirious. Frodo was utterly unaware of the time when he felt a strong hand upon his good shoulder.
"Mister Frodo?" Sam called out.
Frodo tried to focus. Sam's voice sounded distant and muffled. As if someone had covered his mouth with their hands and were dragging him away.
He sensed the heat from the tea before he felt the cup press up to his lips. It smelled sweet, and floral. He faintly remembered the sweet taste of the tea Aragorn had given him after he was attacked at Weathertop. Frodo sipped at the tea, but immediately spat out the vile tasting liquid.
–
Bilbo was preparing afternoon tea when he heard Frodo scream followed by the sound of breaking ceramic. The old Hobbit hurried to his nephew's room where he beheld a most disturbing sight.
"GET OFF ME!" Frodo snarled. He thrashed violently at Sam, who held him by the wrists.
"Mr. Frodo stop our you'll hurt yourself," Sam cried. It was taking all of his strength to restrain his friend. Sam decided to try to get behind Frodo in order to keep from being injured himself. Not taking his hands off of Frodo's wrists, the Gardener worked his strategy. As soon as he was in place, he pressed his chest against the younger Hobbits back. He then used his new leverage to pin Frodo's arms across his chest.
Frodo's screams were low and guttural. Almost as if he was roaring instead of screaming. Sam was holding onto his friend, though Bilbo could see that the young Hobbit was scared out of his wits. Bilbo was paralyzed by the scene.
"Get Help!" Sam's cries broke Bilbo from his paralysis. As fast as his old legs could carry him, he ran out of Bag End hoping that someone, anyone, could help Frodo. As luck would have it, Merry, Pippin, and his cousin Kendrick, were coming up the hill with a picnic basket.