DISCLAIMER: Tolkien's amazing storyline is not mine, I am simply playing with it.
Chapter Three: Rumours
30 September, S.R. 1418
Market Day
Hobbiton
"Bucklebury Ferry. And Crickhollow."
Marigold heard Rosie's sharp intake of breath beside her, and tried to push away her own anxiety as she surveyed the scene unfolding before her eyes. It seemed at though all of Hobbiton had gathered around Sancho, and all of the hobbits were in various states of indignation.
"Nonsense, I'll warrant!" The booming voice of Grimaldo Grubb swelled above the voices of the other hobbits. "Those Bucklanders are always imagining things, what with living across the River and right under the old forest!"
"And what do you know of Buckland?!" Lila Goodbody's high-pitched voice rose as well, for she was quick-tempered and very protective of all things near her Eastfarthing home. "I suppose you've never been out of Hobbiton!"
As the various hobbits bickered, all but forgetting the source of their quarrel, Goldie took some time to compose herself. Seizing Sancho Proudfoot by the elbow she dragged him out from the center of the crowd and back towards the secluded oak tree. Several hobbits, including Estella, Rose, and those visiting from the Eastfarthing and Buckland, detached themselves from the crowd and followed.
Merimac Brandybuck was on a business trip from Brandy Hall itself, and, as one of the older hobbits in the crowd, took matters into his own hands. Facing Sancho with a stern but kind look on his face, he began to question the younger lad. The rest of the group hung on to each word.
"Where, exactly, did you hear this, lad?"
Perhaps it was the authoritative look on the older hobbit's face, or the fact that he was still shocked from his news, but the normally temperamental hobbit did not object to being questioned. "I was with my folks at my great-aunt's house, just west of Bywater by the Road. We were just sitting down to elevenses when someone knocked at the door. We opened it, and it was Lorco, the younger son of old Fargo Bunce, telling us that they'd heard the horn-call of the Brandybucks off by the Brandywine well into the night.
"He said that the Master of Buckland had sent out messengers to the surrounding areas, telling them to be careful and keep their doors closed. I guess it's all over the Westfarthing now. Well, Lorco said his father had sent him down the Road to warn all the folks he could. He was so out of sorts that my aunt made him sit down with the family, and told me to run ahead to Hobbiton and tell all the folk I could find, if they hadn't heard yet."
As the hobbit spoke, Marigold found herself marveling at the efficiency of Buckland and the surrounding areas. She did not think that the hobbits of Hobbiton and Bywater could gather their wits together and send out organized messengers so quickly after an attack like the one on Buckland. Merimac, apparently, saw nothing to marvel at and continued his questioning.
"What did Lorco tell you had happened?"
"He said that soon enough after they'd heard the horn call, a servant from Brandy Hall came to the door, seeing as old Fargo's house is the biggest in the area. The servant said that the Big Folk, eerie, black shapes they were, came galloping up past the Bucklebury Ferry sometime in the night. Reached the Brandywine Bridge, though no one was stopping them as they didn't know they were harmful. Almost knocked down a hobbit or two, they did. At Crickhollow, the servant said, the black shapes attacked one of the houses and the hobbit that had been there ran off through the back door and to the nearest home. The black shapes galloped off, nearly took down the gate as they did. He said that there was a deep fog on the land the whole time the Big Folk were there, and that near everyone in Buckland was terrified."
Merimac's frown had deepened as Sancho spoke, and after his last words the older hobbit nodded to the younger. "I don't like these news, not one bit, as there haven't been Big Folk in the Shire doing harm up until this past month. I don't like it." With those words the Brandybuck turned away from the crowd and towards the road, having decided to postpone his business trip until a less tumultuous day.
Marigold felt that the wealth of information they'd just received was simply not enough. Crickhollow! Scarcely a week had passed since her brother and Frodo Baggins had moved there, and a jittery feeling in her stomach told her that the two events had to be connected. On another day, perhaps, she would have brushed it off as a coincidence. But on this day she recalled a conversation she'd had with her brother the day the news that Frodo was selling Bag End and moving to Crickhollow had broken out.
- - -
"I simply don't see why you must go with him to Buckland!" Marigold had her favorite brother cornered the minute he had entered Number Three Bagshot Row. "Buckland! Samwise Gamgee, you have never been past the River!"
"Marigold!" Sam had a defensive expression on his features. "Master Frodo needs someone to do the gardening there at Crickhollow, and he needs someone to help him with housekeeping and such! And to keep him company!"
Marigold was not having any of it. She was angry- rightfully so, she felt, as Sam was leaving her alone with her lovestruck sisters and busybody brothers- and she did not believe the ridiculous story about Frodo Baggins' lack of money for an instant. "Well, then, I can't stop you from going off to Buckland, but you can tell me why Master Frodo is going off to Buckland in the first place."
Sam shook his head as though exasperated with her lack of understanding, but for an instant before he spoke Marigold saw weariness and fear in his face. "You've heard the rumours, haven't you, Goldie? Old Master Bilbo's money..."
"Don't give me that!"
"Marigold!"
Her temper had, unfortunately, gotten the best of her again. Marigold's mother had often remarked that she didn't know the origins of her youngest daughter's wild temper, and Sam was agreeing wholeheartedly at the moment.
"I know that the money hasn't run out, Sam. I know it. Mayhaps your friends at the Green Dragon believe you, but I don't, not for a second. I help out at Bag End, as much as you do, and I have yet to notice a change for the worse or for the poorer. Master Frodo is spending as much money as ever. What's more, I know that he sold Bag End to Lobelia Sackville-Baggins! Lobelia and Lotho! Are you saying he was out of money, so he sold his beautiful hole to the lowest bidders he could find?"
Sam looked utterly defeated and very worried. "Marigold, please, listen to me. I can't tell you everything- I just can't. I've made promises. But I will tell you this much. There's a reason behind this. And it's a good one."
"A reason? Has it anything to do with Master Gandalf the Wizard hiding out there at Bag End? With the night you came home looking starry-eyed and singing about elves?"
The shrewd expression on Marigold's face reminded Sam that his behavior over the last several weeks had not gone unnoticed. Suddenly he felt an overwhelming desire to tell his youngest sister everything. Perhaps she would understand, perhaps she would understand more than he had.
"Yes," he limited his reply to one word. Goldie looked taken aback at his honest reply.
"Yes? So he is not really short on money?"
"No. There is trouble, and I don't know the full of it, but it's trouble and Master Frodo needs to get it away from Hobbiton and Bag End."
Marigold's flushed cheeks were the only reminded of the flaring temper left. She felt as weary as her brother, and did not think she was fully understanding the things he was telling her. "So he is leaving, leaving for Crickhollow? Perhaps beyond? And you are going with him."
"Yes, Marigold, yes. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm leaving you alone."
"Not only me. Rosie. The Gaffer. Tom. All of us. Oh, Sam. What is happening?"
"I don't know, Marigold, but I must."
- - -
As she stood there expectantly, waiting for more words to come from Sancho Proudfoot's mouth, Marigold remembered the words Sam had spoken. Trouble. Away from Hobbiton. Promises. And suddenly she had a rather upsetting realization; things would never be the same again. Rosie Cotton looked at her friend with worried eyes, noticing a change in her facial expression and the slightly clouded look in her eyes. "Goldie?" She whispered, but the older lass shook her head and made a 'later' motion with her fingers.
Meanwhile, Estella Bolger attempted to wrestle more information out of Sancho. "Which house? Do you know which Crickhollow house was attacked? Sancho? Answer me!"
The poor lad did not seem to appreciate the hobbitess's forceful demeanour. "Estella. Estella! I don't know much else, only what Lorco told me, and only what Lorco heard from the Brandybucks! I reckon you will know the whole story by tomorrow!" He wrenched himself out of her grasp and walked away from the group of spectators, back down towards the Bywater road, pretending not to hear her mutter 'a Proudfoot- what can you expect?'. The other hobbits had silenced and were now scattering, back towards their respective carts and stalls. It seemed as though the whole market was trying to interpret the news for themselves.