Well, I really hope all of you are enjoying this! A special thanks to those who've expressed an interest, with a great big thanks once again for Narsil! Well, this is the chapter where we really see some action...I am never sure how well I write it. But it's nice and long, anyway. Let me know what you think!:)
Aster did her best not to pant too loudly as she struggled to keep up with Hildigrim. She'd been allowed her wish after a rather loud and drawn out argument, but her mother was not happy and there was likely to be a rematch when her father finally returned from his Bounder duties.
He'd been assigned to a group that was based in Hobbiton. Which is where she was currently headed, with her cousin as her mentor/bodyguard. He would normally have waited for reinforcements before heading out, but they had expected a report almost thirty-six hours before and he was worried.
He wasn't foolish enough to go out alone, of course. Besides her, there were seven others. Her mother was out there somewhere, scouting their path ahead with another Bounder.
Belladonna was watching behind with her husband, Bungo. He had no formal training but had simply placed himself by his wife's side without a word, face daring anyone to comment. Hildigrim had of course tried to say something, but the look he received was enough to make him bite his tongue.
The other three hobbits were trained Bounders, with her cousin Isengar being the youngest of the bunch at forty-four. She fought off a momentary doubt. She could do this. She had to do this.
They were less than thirty minutes from Hobbiton when they got a rather unwelcome surprise. They turned, weapons ready, as Belladonna gave a cry. Aster felt a rush of nervous energy, which swiftly gave way to shock as Bungo dragged three young hobbits forward.
Fortinbras, Adalgrim, and Bilbo shuffled their feet guiltily. The older two had their bows, but Bilbo only had what appeared to be a kitchen knife. She closed her eyes, guilt dragging her head down.
If she hadn't forced her mother to allow her to come, she would have been able to prevent this. They probably wouldn't have even tried without her example to lead them. This was her fault, her responsibility. If anything happened to them...
They were moving on, the boys getting a sound, if quiet, lecture from all of the adults in turn. She simply placed herself behind Hildigrim and refused to look at them. As they rounded the last bend in the road before the hills of Hobbiton, they started to hear a great clashing sound.
Aster stared in horror as they rushed forward, finding a vantage on a hill. There were orcs in the Shire! There appeared to be only about a dozen, but the bounders defending the homes looked about to be overrun. Even as she watched, one went down and didn't get back up.
She forced herself not to see his face as she looked desperately for her father. There! An arrow was in the air a moment later, catching an orc that was sneaking up on his back. She sent another, and another, more arrows joining hers.
The orcs were cut down, but the remaining Bounders didn't even slow down. They grabbed any that were wounded and sped up the hill. She was confused. They'd won, hadn't they? Then she heard the calls on the wind.
As her father stumbled up to them, he placed his burden on the ground, taking Adalgrim's bow and ordering him to hold the Bounder's wounds closed. Then he was turning, facing the howls that were carrying to them.
Hildigrim was shouting orders, and the wounded and youngest were being shoved to the center of the hill, while the experienced Bounders were placed around them in groups. Her parents and Belladonna were in one group, but Bungo had joined the wounded and was doing his best to get them tended enough to be able to fight if they had to.
She turned to Hildigrim for orders.
"I'm sorry, Aster, but I need you with the wounded and children. You can aim in any direction there, and keep them safe. I need those who're used to working as a unit everywhere else."
She felt bitter disappointment, but simply nodded. She wasn't going to screw up anything else with her pride. She felt her eyes seek out her parents. She met her mother's eyes, silently trying to apologize. Her mother smiled lovingly, if a little strained, and mouthed 'I love you.' Then she turned to face the incoming mass of fur.
Aster followed her eyes, and felt a chill go up her spine. There were more orcs, a lot more, and these ones were riding Wargs. They were only coming from one direction, so after a moment she readied her bow. She did have the sense to wait for a signal, unlike Fortinbras, who got a swift reprimand for his shot. Even if it did take down an orc. She sidled up next to him.
"Try to aim for the Wargs. They'll injure their riders as they fall, and even the field a little bit!"
He nodded, never taking his eyes from the oncoming threat. She cast a quick glance behind her. Adalgrim and Bilbo were standing guard over Bungo, and two of the wounded Bounders had managed to get back to their feet and were guarding the other side.
She brought her eyes back forward as Hildigrim ordered them all to be ready, then to fire. As their arrows streaked down, she watched as orcs fell from Wargs and Wargs stumbled and went down, most of which didn't get back up.
As they were finally allowed to fire at will, she did her best to destroy an enemy with every arrow. She was doing fairly well, but she could see her parents ahead of her. They were poetry in motion, and every arrow was a kill.
They were decimating all the enemies in front of them, and few were getting through to the close combatants. No Wargs were getting through at all, though she felt a small fission of pride that she was helping with that.
The tide seemed to be turning in their favor, and then she spotted movement from the corner of her eye. A troop of five Wargs and their riders were sneaking up on her parent's group.
They had obviously pegged them as the biggest danger, and were determined to take them out. She screamed a warning, her next arrow aimed for the lead Warg. Her hands had started shaking, however, at the threat to her parents, and it sunk into a large muscle in the Wargs shoulder instead of its head.
Her parents were turning, and their partners with them, but the Wargs had time to build up a charge. Before she could do anything further, she was pulled to the side by Fortinbras, avoiding a spear to her heart.
A small group of orcs had managed to use the distraction to sneak up the hill, and were attacking the wounded. She screamed in anger, charging the spear wielder with her dagger as he lurched, unbalanced, from his miss.
As she sliced his throat, she heard a disturbing cry. Bilbo was staring at his father, who had thrown himself between his son and an ax. Bungo managed to swing his knife as he went down, forcing the orc back long enough for her to get there.
She stabbed him brutally, then turned to defend Bilbo. Most of the orcs were down, but three of the wounded had perished with them, and Bungo was lying far too still. She knelt to check on him, searching for a pulse.
As her eyes filled with tears, she locked gazes with Bilbo. As she slowly shook her head, his face crumpled in grief. He looked so young! She rose and pulled him into her arms, searching around for any more threats.
Mercifully, it appeared that the battle was over. She spotted Hildigrim, looking very tired as he made sure of each orc and Warg. She thought that wise, and jerked her head at Fortimbras. As he came over, she gently handed Bilbo to him, then turned to clear her area. As she beheaded the last, she felt a presence behind her.
She whirled, only to find the grief stricken face of Belladonna. She was confused as Belladonna's face went white as she saw her husband and became distracted. If she hadn't been grieving Bungo, what had put that expression of such deep sorrow on her?
She remembered then that Belladonna had been part of her parent's group, and turned to search for them. If her cousin was back, surely they would be here soon? She felt her face pale as she saw Hildigrim speaking with Isengar, then turning to her.
She suddenly felt that she didn't want to hear his message. Whatever had put that look on his face...
When she learned her parent's had been killed, she didn't believe her cousin at first. She demanded to see for herself, and refused to let anyone stop her. She dodged grasping hands and fled down the hill to where she'd seen them last.
She found several bodies, placed in a line with their cloaks covering their faces. She didn't need to pull them away. She recognized those pants. She'd given them to her father as a gift, each stitch lovingly placed. And she'd seen her mother's outfit just that morning, how could she forget it?
She stopped.
She suddenly didn't want to look beneath the cloaking fabric, to see the damage and blood. She felt a little faint, and felt her knees give way. She barely noticed as Fortinbras and Adalgrim came up beside her.
She didn't remember the rest of that day, the cleanup and travel to the inn in Hobbiton.
The inn keeper had been delighted to host the hero's who'd saved them all, but she didn't respond to his expressions of sympathy. She didn't respond to any of them. She placed her head down when told to, and ate what was put in her hands, but all she could see was the Wargs coming for her family.
She roused enough to be grateful when they finally made it back to her great-uncle's smial. She wanted to sink into her bed and never get up again. Of course, first she had to face her grandmothers.
They were both horrified, and while Primrose gathered her into her arms, Daisy simply sunk into a chair by the fire. She didn't leave it for two weeks.
Primrose tried to get her cousin to come to bed, or eat something, but she rarely complied. Finally, one night she turned empty eyes to Primrose and apologized for her stupidity all those years ago. That was all she said, and she refused to say anything else or be moved from her place.
When Adamanta checked on her the next morning, she found she'd passed sometime in the night. Primrose grieved, but threw herself even harder into her last task: she hadn't been able to save her cousin, but she was determined to save her grandaughter!
She wouldn't allow her to fade and die, not when she was so young! It took over a several weeks, but when the birds of Spring finally started singing their songs Aster finally responded.
She still grieved, though, and she blamed herself for her parent's and Bungo's death. If she had stayed behind, Bungo and the youngsters wouldn't have gone, and they wouldn't have been distracted.
She was the reason they were dead, and she couldn't make it better. Words were worse than useless.
She threw herself into her training. If she'd been just a little bit better, maybe she'd have been able to save them. She needed to be faster, stronger. Her relatives and trainers watched with worry. Nothing they said seemed to get through to her.
When they forced her to take time off, she went on dangerous trips into the Old Forest and into the borderlands, seeking orcs and any other threats she could find. She would come home, wounded and disheveled, just to ask for more training, starting the cycle all over again.
Finally, everything came to a head. She headed out to the most dangerous area she could think of: the barrow downs. She picked out the biggest mound she could find. It was fortunately placed on the outskirts, but she wouldn't have cared if it was in the direct center.
She was determined to face this challenge, this threat. It would be a help if she could destroy it, right? She waited for the wight to show itself, arrow to her bow. As night fell, a fog settled in. She started to feel very sleepy, but jerked herself awake several times.
Finally, she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer.
Her last coherent thought was that perhaps this hadn't been the best idea. She woke to darkness. There was something sharp at her neck, and her limbs felt like lead. She felt a sudden terror, and realized with absolute clarity that she wanted to live.
Her parent's were probably ashamed at her behavior, but if she could just get out of here alive, she would do her best to do them proud for the rest of her life. She felt a surge of energy as she heard something moving in the darkness, and it chased the remaining cobwebs away.
She found a handle near her hand, and brought her dagger (was it her dagger? It felt so light) up to shove the sword at her throat away. She felt resistance, and realized that whatever was in here with her had grabbed the handle.
She thought frantically of what she knew of wights. They were undead spirits, summoned by the Witch King of Angmar and sent to inhabit the dead in this area. Even though he'd been vanquished, they'd remained. They came out at night to prey on whomever they could find and bewitch.
Which told her what? Think, think, think...
Destroy the body, and any others currently available, and it wouldn't be able to hurt her. She dodged as she heard a whistle. The sword swept by her.
All right. She couldn't see it, but it could see her. So she would have to rely on other senses. At least it seemed slow. She amended that thought as she barely managed to parry three whistling strokes in quick succession.
Okay. Her hearing was better than most. She could hear it moving, and the shuffle of its feet. She could smell it. The entire area stank of dust and decay, but it seemed a bit worse where this creature stood. That was about it, other than the breeze of the sword passing as she dodged.
All right, no more time to panic. Time to attack.
/
She cursed herself as she finally managed to find the exit. She kept having to kick off the wretched hands that were still trying to attack her. Note to whomever said to just break up their bodies: body parts can still attack. The smaller they are, the more more sides they can come at you from.
She opened the door, finding something strange about the sounds behind her. She turned, realizing the first light of dawn was just covering the horizon, and the bones behind her were shuffling back, away from the light. She felt a wicked smile cross her face. Exhausted she might be, but she'd rest and wait for the sun to get a little higher.
Then it was payback time. That axe looked like it might make a decent shovel. She'd let in the light, then strip this place to the ground. If she had time before darkness fell again, she'd fill it in, too.
See how well those bones moved covered in several feet of rocks and dirt. If she could cave in the walls...a lot of rocks and dirt.
/
She had to get a cart from a hobbbit that lived near the borders. He was a distant cousin, and a Brandybuck, so when he discovered what she'd done he went with her muttering the whole time about family and duty and foolish children.
She managed to accomplish her goals, though, which she didn't think she'd have been able to do otherwise. She paid him handsomely with her stolen gold, causing him to finally smile. He threw a few wary looks over his shoulders at the downs, and decided that he'd use his gains to move into the Shire proper.
Independence was not worth his life. He'd already been thinking of it what with the horrible winter. Indeed, he'd only been back to take stock of what he wanted to keep and what he'd leave behind. Now he just had a way to make the move much more comfortable.
/
Primrose and Hildigrim were waiting for her when she returned, riding in a borrowed cart that appeared to be carrying quite the load. She looked at their worried faces and felt guilty once more, this time for causing them to worry so. They shared an astonished look as she smiled gently at them.
"I think I'll stay around the Shire for a while. Maybe rent out my parent's smial to cousin Isengar. He's expressed an interest in moving out of the Took smials, and possibly even going on a few trips. I think it would be just about the right size. If it's all right with you, grandma, I'll move in with you. I don't want to be alone anymore."
Primrose beamed at her, her eyes moist.
"Certainly dear, certainly. No bother at all. But what is in this cart? I suppose I might be able to find room for it, but that is quite the luggage, my dear."
Aster looked over her shoulder, embarrassed.
"It's not my luggage, Grandma. It's the spoils from the wight I fought last week."
"What!"
/
If Aster thought that her grieving was over, she was very much mistaken. It still hit her at odd times, and everything seemed to have so many memories. Still, it was better. She found she was at least able to deal with things a little better, and her younger cousins were delighted to have their friend back.
If she was a little more serious, a little more motherly, they didn't say anything. Eventually, Aster started to notice something rather disturbing. As she got better, it seemed that Primrose was getting worse.
Her grandmother had taken to staring out the window for hours, her knitting in her lap. Her memory seemed to be slipping, too. Eventually, Aster spent most of her time in their smial taking care of her.
She wept bitterly as she realized her beloved grandmother was fading. She'd held on for her sake, but now seemed to be living more and more in a world she could not enter.
When she finally passed, Aster shut the doors and moved back in with her cousins. The Took smials were loud, and full of life. She needed that.
She found out a few weeks later that Primrose hadn't been the only one to pass recently. Her dear cousin Belladonna had passed less than a month before. She had probably received an invitation to her funeral, but she had been ignoring all invitations by that point, struggling with her grandmother. She apologized to Bilbo, though, as soon as she saw him.
They cried into each other's arms that night. The next morning he confessed all of his problems to her. He was only sixteen, and his Baggins relatives were trying to decide what to do with him.
No one seemed willing to take him in, though Longo and his wife Camelia Sackville seemed ready and willing to split up all of his material possessions. Gerontius had stepped in and prevented that, whisking Bilbo away, but he was old and had a great many duties.
They needed someone who was able to take over as his guardian, and they were having a hard time finding someone. Bilbo refused to impose on anyone with children, and most of the others had their own duties to attend to. Certainly none of them could move out to Hobbiton, as he would have to if he wanted to keep unwanted relatives from moving in.
As he spoke, Aster got a wonderful idea. She could do this. She could care for him, and teach him, and protect him. She might be the cause of his father's death, or she might not, but she could at least do this for him.
She was almost afraid to speak up. What would he say to her offer?
A very happy 'Yes!' apparently. She smiled at his enthusiasm. He had obviously been worrying about this for some time, and she was happy she could be the cause of someone's happiness for once.
It would be challenging, she was sure. She wasn't exactly the model of maturity and patience after all, and she was still grieving herself, but she would do her best. She smiled once again as he threw himself into his grandfather's arms. They'd make it work. Somehow.
