The Hobbit Girl

Prisca Baggins had never really fit in with the hobbits of the Shire. She loved boats, enjoyed climbing trees, and spent most of her afternoons dreaming of far off lands - all things that the majority looked down upon. She craved adventure like children crave candy and boy did she have a sweet tooth. At the early age of 23, still in her tweens, Prisca found the tedious monotony of daily life a terrible bore. Most of the time she could be found wandering in the woods trying to avoid her chores.

And so it was that on one particularly pleasant morning in the Shire, young Prisca was perched in her favorite oak tree. Sitting precariously at such a great height usually kept people from bothering her. Reaching into her trusty satchel, she pulled out her notebook that she carried with her everywhere. Her uncle had purchased it for her at the Mid-year's day festival last year. She had filled nearly half its pages with notes and things she wanted to remember. On this morning she turned to a page on which she had jotted down a poem to memorize.

"O stars that in the Sunless Year, with shining hand by her were sown," she read, letting the words transport her. "In windy fields now bright and clear, we see your silver blossom blown!"*

The birds around her chirped in approval. She smiled and gazed out at the lands below. Far to the east was Buckland and on the far side of Buckland was the Old Forest. Beyond that was Bree and somewhere past that, the fair Valley of Rivendell. Prisca had only read about such places like Rivendell or the land beyond and had no hope of ever going there. Yet this didn't stop her from staring longingly towards the distant hills and wondering what lay past them. What adventures awaited the willing traveler?

Reading the rest of the poem, she recited, "We still remember, we who dwell, in this far land beneath the trees, thy starlight on the Western Seas."* The wind caught her long brown curly hair and for a moment she imagined that she was a fair elf maid, dreaming of things from the long forgotten past. Prisca drank in the verse with delight. Oh, how she wished that she could write an epic poem! She had started to write her own poem a while back, but alas, such things seemed too high for her grasp.

"What in heaven's name are you doing up there?! Get down!"

The hobbit girl's epic moment of existential longing was broken by the shrill voice of a hobbit woman far below. Prisca peered down at her and frowned. Was there nowhere in the Shire that she could go to get away from people?

"Come down this instant," the hobbit woman commanded. Prisca closed her book, stowed it securely in her satchel, and descended the tree. When she reached the bottom, the older hobbit looked at her disapprovingly.

"For goodness sake child! Are you trying to break your neck? Haven't I told you that you aren't to climb any trees?"

Prisca looked down at her bare hobbit feet and said, "Yes Mother. I know. I'm sorry."

Prisca's mother, a stout hobbit woman by the name of Estella, looked at her sorrowfully. "Well come along then," she said. "Your father is getting the cart ready for the trip."

The Mid-year's day festival would be starting soon in Hobbiton and that meant that nearly every hobbit in the Shire would be there. That also meant more crowds and for Prisca more crowds meant more ridicule.

In addition to being rather odd from a hobbit's perspective, Prisca also had the stigma of being an orphan. Her parents had adopted her when she was just a baby. Her uncle, Matthias Brandybuck, a kindly old hobbit who lived in Newbury on the very eastern edge of Buckland, had found her. He claimed that she had been mysteriously abandoned and left on his doorstep. When her parents took her in, they named her "Priscilla" after her great Aunt on her father's side. Yet like most hobbit names it was shortened and she became known as "Prisca".

As was usual, tongues began to wag in Hobbiton and Bywater as news spread about the mysterious orphan. The local gossip was that Prisca's birth mother had gotten pregnant illegitimately and had no official husband to speak of. That must have been why no one ever saw her and why she abandoned her child. Certainly if she was an honorable woman, she wouldn't have resorted to such mysterious and irresponsible methods of finding her baby a home.

Prisca's parents had gotten flack for this throughout the years which had only given them harder demeanors. They were honorable hobbits and they would raise Prisca to be the same, so that was that. Yet when the young hobbit girl began to display attributes not commonly seen in the Shire, many said that it was because of her irresponsible heritage and the fact that she was found in Buckland, a place where many hobbits liked unnatural things.

Thus Prisca loathed the Mid-year's day festival and all the gossiping hobbits who came with it. But as she climbed into the cart that day and she and her family trotted down the road, she tried to focus on the one positive aspect of this trip: Visiting Mr. Gamgee. Prisca's father, Porto Baggins, had fought in the Battle of Hobbiton nearly four years ago and had become good friends with Sam Gamgee in the aftermath. This was how Prisca had been introduced to Sam Gamgee and his family. Porto was a farmer and not inclined to books, but he did understand that such things would be beneficial to his daughter. So it was, that after Frodo left the Shire, Porto came to an agreement with Sam Gamgee. Prisca would visit Bagend once a month to help Rose around the huge place and in return Sam would teach Prisca to read. Once a month, they loaded up the cart and took the two hour journey to Hobbiton. Porto was also able to sell a large portion of the crops from his garden and soon the monthly trip became a lucrative routine.

It was through these trips and her lessons with Sam, that Prisca's world had been open. Once Prisca had mastered reading, Sam actually let her read the Red Book of Westmarch, the handwritten account of all of Bilbo and Frodo's adventures in Middle-earth. From day one she was hooked. Soon her reading was so good that she had finished the entire tome two times over. Currently she was working on her third reading of the text even though it had only been about a year and a half since her tutoring began. She had begun to bring her notebook to her lessons and she jotted down her favorite poems to memorize. This was where she had gotten the poem she had been working on recently.

As the cart pulled into Hobbiton, they could see the massive crowds of people setting up pavilions and getting their wares ready to sell. The Mid-year's day festival was both a time of celebration as well as trade. There was a musical band set up on the northern end of the field and a wide open area for dancing after the sun went down. There were games and contests around every corner. Hobbit children ran willy nilly laughing and playing every which way you looked. On the other side of the festival grounds was the Hill and if you looked carefully, you could see the green door of Bagend peeking out from beneath the earth.

Porto drove his cart into the midst of the crowd until they reached the allotted space for him to sell the vegetables and fruits they had brought. Prisca got out and quickly helped him set up while her mother made her way towards the Hobbiton post office to retrieve any mail that had come for them in the past month. Prisca dutifully helped her father arrange the cabbages, carrots, and turnips, all the while trying to avoid the passing glances of other folk.

At last her father loaded up a small wooden crate and handed it to her.

"I know you're mighty apt to visit Mr. Gamgee," he said smiling. "Run along up to the Hill and take him these. Give him my regards. Your mother will come up and collect you once the festival has ended."

Prisca thanked her father and began to briskly walk through the crowd on her way to Bagend. Prisca had never been fond of large groups of people. They made her feel stifled and the fact that most of these people were silently judging her didn't help either. She kept her eyes focused on that green door ahead of her as she bobbed and weaved through the throng.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the Hill loomed even closer. Yet as she at last came in sight of the gate around Mr. Gamgee's garden, she stopped in her tracks. A group of hobbit children stood in her way and at their front was a particularly stocky young hobbit around the same age as Prisca. He smiled impishly at her.

"Don't fancy hanging out with us common folk at the festival?"

The stocky hobbit before her was Hogarth Boffin. Behind him was a troop of what Prisca called his "lackeys." Hogarth was the big bully amongst the children in Hobbiton and he wore it with pride. His own parents more often than naught turned a blind eye to his cruelty. In his current troop, Prisca spotted Cordelia, a friend of Prisca's in days gone by. About a year ago Cordelia had started following Hogarth's rabble in order to be more popular with the other children. Of course Prisca, having the reputation that she had, was not invited to join with her. In fact, Hogarth seemed to enjoy nothing more than tormenting Prisca. She had gone a different way through the festival than was her usual trek in order to avoid them. But they knew where she was going and thus had planted themselves directly in her path.

"Let me pass Hogarth," Prisca moaned.

The young hobbit boy detected her annoyance and said, "What's the matter Prissy? You gonna be late for your reading lessons again?"

He strode up to her and she set her crate of vegetables on the ground. They had knocked it out of her hands many times before and Prisca was determined that it would not happen again. As Hogarth glared at her, she looked him dead in the eye. She tried to be intimidating, but it was hard to be scary when you are 23 year old hobbit girl with rosy cheeks and frizzy hair.

"My Pa says that hole is cursed," Hogarth said. "And that Gamgee is just as mad and crazy as old Bilbo and that nutter Frodo was."

Prisca's face became red. To her, Bilbo and Frodo were the closest things to heroes that she had. To hear them insulted made her blood boil. Her fists tightened at her sides.

"Oh did I hurt your feelings?" Hogarth said mockingly. "You gonna hit me for calling your stupid heroes cracked? Maybe hanging out in that ratty hole up there is making you cracked too? That's not surprising considering where you come from."

She swung her fist at him as hard as she could. The hobbit boy ducked and caught her arm, pinning it to her back.

"Oi! You kids get back to the Festival where you belong," a voice called from the direction of Bagend. Every eye turned to behold Sam Gamgee standing on the steps leading down through his garden. He brandished a rake in his hands but it wasn't needed; his gaze was as intimidating as they come. Hogarth released Prisca and shoved her, pushing her to the ground. One of his lackeys kicked over her crate of vegetables as they strode off. Cordelia glanced at her sorrowfully, but then followed the troop as they walked back to the festival.

Sam rushed down to help her yelling, "Hey you lot! Come back here and help this young lady," but the kids ran off and were lost in the throng of people. Sam reached down to help Prisca up. She dusted herself off regretfully.

"Are you alright," he asked as he gathered up the dropped vegetables.

"Yes Mr. Gamgee. Thank you," she said.

"I would have come sooner if I had known what was happening. Those ruffians sneaking around my grounds... I'll put a stop to that. It won't happen again."

"Thank you Mr. Gamgee."

"Are these from your father," Sam asked as he hoisted up the crate of veggies.

"Yes Sir," Prisca said. "I'm sorry some of them got dirty."

"Oh no matter," Sam said cheerfully. "Rose will wash 'em up and they'll be good as new."

As they entered Bagend, Prisca's heart lightened. The dark tones of the old wood paneling and the smell of papers and books always reminded her that this place was where adventures began. When the green door was shut, the world outside didn't seem to matter anymore. Bagend was like a little slice of wonder amidst the dull normality of hobbit life.

"Hello Prisca dear," Rose said as she entered the foyer. Young Elanor was cradled in her arms. Prisca smiled at the baby and made a wide-eyed playful expression that made Elanor giggle.

"Prisca brought us some of Porto's vegetables," Sam said as he set the crate down.

"Oh how nice of him," Rose said beaming. "How is your father Prisca?"

"He is well. He sends his regards."

"Prisca," Sam said. "I know it's a bit of short notice, but would you mind looking after Elanor for the rest of the afternoon? Rose and I have been invited to a town meeting that will be held at the festival."

"Not at all Mr. Gamgee," the hobbit girl said. "I'm always happy to look after sweet Elanor."

At that moment another individual came into the foyer. This person was the tallest of all three of the adults. Prisca's face lit up.

"Pip! What are you doing here?" she said excitedly.

Peregrin Took smiled. "Prisca! Hullo! I've just come by to see Sam before heading off to the meeting. I'm going to represent the West Farthing." He looked at Prisca and then said playfully, "Ah to be young again. I remember when I was a carefree child like you."

"Pip you sound like an old man," she chided. "Just because you've come of age doesn't mean you're not still just 10 years older than me. You're my cousin not my uncle."

"I suppose you're right," he said. "I can still be childish if I want to can't I?" With that statement Peregrin playfully ruffled the top of her curly hair. The young girl batted him away laughing.

Peregrin was in fact Prisca's first cousin on her mother's side; Estella was Paladin's sister. Having just turned 33, Peregrin had only recently been considered an adult, but that didn't stop him from joking about already being an old man. Prisca was very fond of him. In many ways he was like the big brother that she never had and she wished that he would come around more often. He was one of her few family members who didn't think she was strange or odd. Something about the adventures he had been on with Mr. Frodo had made him a bit more tolerant of the unnatural and mysterious.

The two cousins began to catch up, but were interrupted by a knock on the door. When Sam answered it, he was greeted by the Hobbiton postman. After handing Sam the specifically labeled parcels and envelopes, the postman glanced inside and said, "Ah! There you are Mr. Took. I had heard you were visiting Hobbiton, but I didn't know where to find you. This letter came for you. I was going to get my brother to run cross country to you, but I might as well just give it to you here."

Peregrin took the letter from the postman with a word of thanks and as the courier left, Prisca leaned in to see who the note was from. Peregrin shooed her away, but then stopped when he saw the seal. It was a circle of red sealing wax, embossed with the outline of the white tree of Gondor. Prisca recognized it immediately and gasped excitedly.

"Is that... is that from Gondor? From King Aragorn?" she said, practically bouncing up and down. "Is he summoning you back to Minas Tirith?"

Peregrin opened the note and read it with his back to her. At last he looked up and said with a surprised expression, "That's exactly what it says." He glanced at Prisca and muttered, "Lucky guess."

Rose and Sam were now heading out to their meeting. Rose handed off Elanor to Prisca and then went to retrieve her umbrella. Prisca continued to press her cousin.

"What does he need your help with? Is it official business or does he just want you to visit?"

"It doesn't say," Peregrin said. "All it says is that I am to come at once to Minas Tirith to lend my aid as a knight. But it doesn't say what they need my aid for."

Prisca was rocking Elanor back and forth in her arms. The baby cooed and began playing with the hobbit girl's mass of curls.

"Can you take me with you?" Prisca blurted out. Peregrin looked over at her surprised.

"Wha - are you mad? Of course I can't take you with me," he said as he folded up the paper and stuffed it in his coat pocket. "Don't be absurd Prisca. I know you are obsessed with the stories of all our adventures during the war, but I'm afraid you may have romanticized them too much. You are not fit for that kind of journey."

"Oh but surely you could vouch for me," she implored. "Please, I so want to visit the places I've read about. It's all I've ever dreamed of."

"I'm sorry Prisca," Peregrin said as he straightened his coat collar. Sam and Rose were heading out the door and Peregrin followed after them. As he stepped through the door behind the Gamgees he said, "I'm afraid it's just not possible."

"Oh but please!"

"Prisca no! You are not going to Minas Tirith." With those words Peregrin shut the round green door to Bagend behind him. Prisca was left standing alone in the foyer of Bagend as Elanor continued to dig her short fingers into the girl's hair. Prisca watched through a nearby window as the three of them walked down to the festival.

She heaved a deep sigh and shuffled to the sitting room. Finding a rocking chair, she sat down and began to rock Elanor. Prisca was still ruminating on Peregrin's letter. It wasn't fair that he got to go off and visit all these places. Why couldn't he take her with him? She wouldn't be any trouble.

After an hour or so, little Elanor fell asleep. Prisca set her in her cradle and then sat down in the chair next to it. Opening up the Red book, the young hobbit girl found her stopping place towards the end of the story. It was the account of the days after the Ring was destroyed. Even though she had read it twice before, one particular line caught her eye. The first two times when she had read the story through, she was so excited by the tale that she rushed through each page, overly eager to find out what happened next. Now, reading things slowly and methodically, the verse stuck out to her plain as day. It was at the end of a paragraph concerning all the people Frodo had met in Ithilien upon their waking up after destroying the Ring.

"Peregrin also introduced us to a young friend of his, a very strange girl called Claeo who wore a sword and, we were told, was a great warrior."

Prisca thought this was very odd. A young girl wearing a sword who was a friend of Peregrin's. Who was she? Female warriors were not uncommon in the text that sat in Prisca's lap. Eowyn had been a friend of Meriadoc's and together they had slain the Witchking. Merry didn't hesitate to mention the valiant sheildmaiden of Rohan when he spoke of his adventures. Yet Peregrin had never mentioned this "Claeo" before and Prisca began to wonder why that was.

For some reason this mystery didn't sit well with the hobbit girl. She pulled out her notebook and recorded the sentence incase she needed it later. The next time she saw Peregrin she would ask him about this Claeo. Unless of course he rode off to Minas Tirith before she got the chance. In that case she would have to wait until he returned to get the answers that she craved.

*"Song for Elbereth" from The Fellowship of the Ring, page 78