Chapter Seven: Ted Sandyman and the Mill
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or anything at all except a few lines of dialogue below that are my own. I try to stay true to the book, and I have a little originality only when in the real books "No one's ever seen this Sharkey". But I make Saruman oversee everything because I personally think it is more alike to his character to not trust anyone rather than to be mysterious and hide. I hope you agree.
Thank you to my faithful readers! I hope you enjoy!
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The horrifying mornings were all alike. Waking up to singing and laughter made me nauseous and Wormtongue was worse. He kept getting healthier! He put on some weight and he started getting those childlike rosy cheeks. It wouldn't do. If he were happy, he could easily lead a rebellion. I still needed him to fear me. So. Only breakfast for him from now on. No visitors nor dinners, late bedtimes and early mornings. That should do. Just enough to remind him who's in charge and keep him alive. I would make him crawl.
He should come in useful in case some of the other hobbits get rebellious. And…
I thought evilly
In case someone needs "taking care of."
I smiled. I called him and he obediently followed me to the mill, where a Mr. Sandyman, as they called him, a fat, surly hobbit with a mean smile, was working. I did not bring Lotho around, for instead of "Chief" as he preferred to be called, the angry Halflings started calling him "Pimple," for his big pink face was becoming an icon for trouble. I let him hide at Bag End. He was easy prey and I no longer had to worry about him. He got busy selling what the 'gatherers and sharers' collected, and then distributed the funds. Carts rolled in every day now, carrying away the last of the Southfarthing leaf (except for my 'meager' share) and crops. With winter coming on at the end of September, many Halflings up roared again, and we collected more 'contributions'. Angry was the word to describe the hobbits.
Perfect. An excellent welcome party for the Halflings, I should say!
Now for this, Sandyman. If he was mean enough, I could use my trademark (and gradually distasteful usage thereof) persuasion. If he was like Gaffer Gamgee, all 'patriotic', then I'd have to take the mill from him. So I brought a couple ruffians along as well. Once that was in my control, a big part of Hobbiton would be mine. The lot of them thought that if I was going to 'take over' the Southfarthing I should get it over with and stop putting up pretenses. Just goes to show what fools men can be.
"Mr. Sandyman," I said. He turned, and a frown quickly developed when he saw me. "What be ye wanting here, sir?" he asked. "You'd be one o' them ruffians, wouldn't ye be? Well I want none of it, ye hear? Now git, 'cuz I ain't gonna let them gatherers and sharers here, I got me a lot a work 'ere."
Great. He's patriotic. That will soon mend, I thought.
"Knock down his mill." I ordered, and the ruffians at once began to tear down his structure.
"What be going on here?" Sandyman shouted. "You stop it right now!" he was arrested. His son, Ted came running up. "Da, what's going on?" he asked. "The Shire is being improved," I answered. "Now step aside. If you want to help us, you can sign up and promote machinery and rations, or you can go keep your father company in the jailhouse. My sheriffs would be more than happy to host you." I smiled. The ruffians chuckled as they grasped tighter at their clubs.
He looked around. Suddenly happy that he no longer had a master, as his father was carried off, he stepped over. "What is to be done?" he asked. A little mean grin crossed his lips as he joined. I was glad for this union, because the arrests were tiresome, and if not anything else the hobbits could always release their friends and all would be well. That would never do.
The Mill was taken care of, but I needed Wormtongue's transformation to disappear, and then there was a small issue at Bag End that needed attending to. I urged the ruffians and our new addition of the band to follow me. We climbed up the hill and over to the hobbit hole. We turned our faces to Bagshot Row.
