The Past
Allie stared up at the big doors leading into Bree. She had walked for five days and had ended up in her hometown. Her legs were shaking, her stomach was rumbling of hunger, and she could feel dust and crass on every inch of her skin. Why had she come here?
Because this was the only other place she knew in the world. Still, she hesitated to go in. This place was but an unfriendly town, full of Big People. Without Robin, there was no sense in coming back to this place. How would she make a living, alone and without money?
But maybe Robin is here.
She shook her head, angry with herself for keeping that hope alive. But maybe, just maybe, if her father had been telling the truth about everything, then Robin might be here.
Allie stroked the pink scarf attached to her waist to give herself some courage, and stepped beyond the threshold to Bree. The streets were just as she remembered: wide, stone-paved, filled with Big People. She hadn't seen Big People in almost two years. Had they always been so tall and… intimidating?
She kept close to the walls, trying to make herself smaller than she already was. In spite of the sun shining upon the cobblestone streets, she found the town ominous and forbidding after the green hills of the Shire. Her senses stayed in high alert until her footsteps led her to a familiar sight.
A green sign with a white pony standing on its rear legs.
The Inn of Prancing Pony.
It was early in the day, not quite noon yet, so the common room of the inn was almost deserted if not for some elderly people and housewives chatting in the corner. The proprietor of the Inn, Barliman Butterbur, was leisurely wiping a few glasses clean with a tissue. Allie hovered outside, just beyond the threshold, worried about what he might do if he saw her. They weren't exactly on amicable terms ever since she and her friends had taken his stool away while he was about to sit on it.
While she debated, her arm reached over her head to push the door open. Before she could jump around, a large person had bypassed her to step inside the inn. A bell rang to announce the guest's arrival. Butterbur stared up from his chore and gave out his best friendly smile. "Welcome, traveller!"
Before the front door could swing shut, Allie made eye contact with Butterbur. She had time to see the barman's eyes widen in recognition, before the door swung shut. She twirled around to make her escape, but the door opened again and a big hand closed around the collar of her shirt. "Isn't that little Allie?" Butterbur groaned behind her. "What are you doing here? Is your father back in town?"
Allie looked back and gave her head a wild shake, making her blonde curls fly. He better not find out that she had come back on her own! The last thing she wanted was for him to send word to her father about her presence here.
Butterbur let go of her to put his hands on his hips. He scanned her from head to toe, quite puzzled by what he was seeing. Allie made herself small and dropped her gaze to his black worn-out boots.
"Where is your father then? And look at the state you are in! Did you run across the countryside to get here? How can a young lass be so dirty?"
She bit her lip but did not reply.
He sighed at her unresponsiveness. "Come with me!"
Without giving her room to protest, he took her by the arm and half lifted inside the Inn.
"Reg! Slow down!" Lena cried out, running breathlessly to catch up with the long and angry strides of her taller friend.
"I'm going to kill him!" Reginard groaned, his brown eyes sending angry sparks with each step he took.
"Yes, all right, but slow down first!"
Reg paused so suddenly that she literally ran into his chest. "Oww!"
Without a word, Reg took her hand and started pulling her along as he resumed his quick pace towards the Prancing Pony.
"Bob is so dead!" he muttered under his breath. "How dare he trick me? I gave him thirty coins for a fake!"
"It's your own fault for getting tricked!" Lena couldn't help saying in a disapproving tone.
Reg pretended not to hear her. Besides, they had arrived at the Inn. Reginard bypassed the main entrance and opted for a side door giving into the adjacent courtyard. He entered the stables and looked around for any sign of Bob, the hobbit who took care of the horses. However, beside a couple of ponies chewing grains of oats, no other soul was in sight.
Not giving up, Reg pulled Lena along and entered the Inn through the back door, determined to settle the score with Bob today once and for all. He walked along the halls, peering inside the unoccupied bedrooms. No sign of Bob. Finally, he arrived within sight of the kitchens. Only one cook could be seen, preparing something over the stove.
"Is he hiding?" Reg cried out impatiently. "Did he know I was coming?"
Lena was lingering behind him in the hallway, opening all the doors and shutting them closed again with a loud bang, giggling like mad every time she caught sight of a disturbed guest.
"Stop messing around, Lena, or Butterbur is going to throw you out again," Reg shouted back at her.
Lena stuck out her tongue and sprinted past him toward the common room. Reg shook his head. Lena could be such a troublemaker for someone with such an innocent face. When she looked at you with those pale blue eyes, framed by chestnut locks, one couldn't help but smile and giggle over what a doll she was. But Reg knew the little devil that hid beneath that angelic little face.
The common room was filled with the usual late afternoon customers; housewives chatting secretively among themselves, giggling from time to time. A couple of elderly men playing a game of cards. A young lass sitting in the corner, eating something. No sign of Bob here, either. Reg searched for Butterbur's large frame, but the bar was empty.
Reg's gaze returned to the lass. Her blonde hair shimmered in the dark as she bent over the table, eating something from a bowl. Reg couldn't see her face, but knew she wasn't part of the usual crowd. He could count the hobbit kids living in Bree on the fingers of one hand, and none of them had light hair like hers. Reg noticed Lena looking in that direction as well. "Who's that?"
Lena just shrugged.
"She's a hobbit like us," Reg remarked. "But there isn't a single hobbit in Bree that I'm not familiar with, so she must be new."
"Something about her seems familiar," Lena said, squinting for a better look.
Reg's features turned impish. "Only one way to find out."
Lena returned the smile in kind.
Reg started making his way toward the seated lass in big silent steps. He didn't need to look back to know that Lena followed closely behind.
When he was less than a meter away from the girl, Reg reached for her hair, intending to give it a tug. Before he could make contact, the girl flipped around and tapped his forehead with her spoon full of soup.
Reg let out a surprised shriek, and quickly wiped at the trail of carrot soup dripping down his face. "What in the world!" he exclaimed.
Lena let out a gasp beside him, though it didn't sound like a gasp of outrage to his ears. She better not find this funny!
"It's Allie!" Lena exclaimed.
Reg squinted at the girl's face, making out a mass of wild curls falling over laughing grey eyes. "Allie?" Reg exclaimed in disbelief. He rubbed his eyes, and when he opened them again, she was still there.
It was indeed Allie! No one else could smile at him so smugly. How had he not recognized her right away?
"You guys haven't improved at all," Allie said with a wide grin, "I saw you coming from a mile away!"
"How?" Reg pouted. "We were being extra careful!"
Allie showed them the back of her spoon, which she had been using as a mirror. Reg sighed in defeat, and then he started grinning for real. Lena threw herself on the chair and hugged Allie so hard Reg heard a few of her bones crack.
"What are you doing here?" Lena asked with her face in Allie's hair.
Allie patted Lena's back and her eyes turned sad for a second. But when Reg blinked, the expression wasn't there anymore. Had it been a play of light?
"It's a long story," Allie answered.
"Well, where is…" Reg looked around and dropped his voice, "your father?"
"I came by myself."
Reg frowned. "Did you run away from home?"
"I guess you could say that."
Lena ended the hug and seized her hand in both of hers. "I thought I'd never see you again, Allie. I'm so glad you are back! We can go back to playing, just like before."
Allie smiled back. "I missed you both as well. Every time I thought back to Bree and the things we used to do together, I have always felt such nostalgia."
She quickly finished her bread and soup and then pushed away from the table. She looked around for any signs of Butterbur, but he hadn't come back yet. Allie quickly slid toward the door.
"Are you going somewhere?" Reg inquired after her.
She nodded without looking back. "To my old house."
Reg exchanged a puzzled look with Lena, but hurried after her as she stepped out into the streets. Why would she want to go back there? It was empty now, and on sale, though no one had claimed it yet.
Reg and Lena soon caught up with Allie's brisk pace, walking on either side of her.
"Why were you two at the Inn?" she asked.
Reg sighed and passed a hand through his unruly brown locks. "I was looking for Bob."
"Bob!" Allie exclaimed. "The pony feeder?"
The pony feeder was how the hobbit kids all called him, though he had other functions.
"Right," Reg said. "He sold me a totally fake Oliphant tusk! I thought it was real at first, but when I brought it home and showed it to my father, he said it was just a piece of wood! Then he got angry with me and threatened to punish me for wasting his money. Bob is so dead! We should call him Bob the Swindler from now on."
"That is why I said it's your own fault," Lena muttered reprovingly, "you should have asked for my opinion first. Why did you just go ahead and buy it without consulting me?"
Allie was giggling. "Reg, I can't believe how naïve you still are. That's why everybody can trick you like this."
Reg let out an unhappy frown. He knew he'd been naïve. No need to add salt to the wound.
He was still brooding over the whole affair when Allie's question made him forget his anger for a second. "Say," she started with a hint of uncertainty. "Have any of you two… um… seen Robin here?"
"Your brother?" Lena asked. "No? Didn't he go to the Shire with you?"
Allie kept on looking ahead. "Yes. Yes, he did."
"Why? Did he run away from home too?" Lena asked.
"No, it's not that," Allie was quick to answer. "It's nothing. He told me once that he went all the way to Bree and back again. I just wanted to confirm with you two if that was true."
Reg shrugged. "Well, I don't know if it's true or not, but we sure haven't seen him around ever since the day you left."
Reg couldn't help noticing a flash of disappointment on Allie's face, accompanied by something else he couldn't name. Before he could ask her about it, Allie shuffled to a halt.
Reg looked around. They had reached the outskirts of Bree and were now standing in front of her old house, a small low building close to the ground with two little round windows on either side of a white door.
Allie took a deep breath and pushed the door open. It creaked as it yielded way, raising a small cloud of dust off the floor. She frowned. Why wasn't the door locked? Perhaps someone else had gotten in after they left, thinking they could scavenge something of value. Well, tough luck. They already didn't have much of value, and had certainly not left anything behind for any thief to take.
Reg and Lena stepped into the empty house after Allie, staring around with wide eyes. They hadn't set foot here since the Brandybucks had left for the Shire.
Allie swallowed down the ball of nostalgia lodged in her throat as she walked along once familiar hallways. A fireplace stood opposite the front door, the inside blackened by soot and pieces of burned firewood. A round salon occupied most of the space, from where a narrow hallway led into the kitchen and a wider one led to two bedrooms. Allie was stricken by how familiar the place still felt after almost two years of absence. This was the place where she had grown up. This had been home for as long as she could remember.
"Why did you want to come back?" Reg asked, his voice echoing along the empty rooms.
"I just wanted to see it again," she whispered.
Allie left her two friends in the salon and made the tour of the house, lingering an instant in every room as memories came flooding back. This was where she had first learned how to cook, standing on a stool, with Robin by her side, fretting at the way she had been holding the knife. And this was where the roof had suddenly collapsed one day, scaring Robin badly as he had been standing close to the spot where the piece of ceiling had crashed down. And here, in front of the fireplace, Robin and she had spent many cold winter nights, huddled under the same blanket, eating sweet potatoes by the fire.
Her eyes began to sting at all those memories of Robin. Had he really left because he knew she had ended a person's life? Did he run away from the knowledge of it? Was that why he had never stood up to Father for her? Well, he should have told her then. She'd rather have him yell at her for having done such a terrible deed than keeping it to himself and abandoning her when he could no longer deal with it.
Allie stopped in front of Father's old bedroom. She hesitated for a heartbeat, but then pushed the door open. The room was dark and empty of furniture except for a heavy dresser in the corner that they hadn't been able to bring with them to the Shire. She opened all the drawers and found them empty. She didn't know what she had expected to find in them in the first place.
She was about to turn around when something caught her attention. It was the corner of a piece of paper stuck beneath the dresser. Frowning slightly, she lay down on her stomach on the dusty floor and reached a hand under the drawer to retrieve it. It took her a while, but finally she managed to slide it towards her.
It was blank.
She sighed as she stood back up. The paper slipped from her fingers, did a summersault in the air and landed right side up.
Allie froze, for it wasn't blank on the other side.
It was a drawn portrait. A portrait of her mother.
She recognized her right away because the hobbit in the drawing looked so much like the lass she saw every time she looked into the mirror. The same wavy hair (although her mother's was more well-kept), the same grey eyes, and a stunning smile that lifted her well defined cheekbones and made her eyes crinkle in soft delight.
Her mother was beautiful. Allie's heart was pounding hard, but she didn't know whether it was due to seeing Mother's face for the first time, or due to the guilt for being here in this world instead of her.
"Allie? Are you done?" came Reg's voice from the common room.
Allie jerked her head up, making a tear land on the portrait in her hands. She quickly wiped her eyes dry and then stuck the piece of paper inside her pocket.
"Yes! I'm coming!"
Allie worried about where she could stay while in Bree, but she managed to find a place at the Prancing Pony. Luckily, Reg's father worked at Inn, and upon Butterbur's approval, he found her a room free of charge. She wasn't sure how Reg's father finagled such a deal, but she thanked him for it.
Still, Allie felt like she should repay Butterbur for his kind gesture, especially after all the pranks she used to pull on him in the past. She offered him to work at the Inn. Butterbur had wriggled his eyebrows and scanned her with high skepticism, but Allie must have managed to look as sincere as she felt, for Butterbur had ended up agreeing, with the warning that she better take her job seriously and not make a mess. Allie had nodded with a wide grin. "I promise!" she'd said.
Butterbur had grunted, looking like he already doubted his decision, but he didn't take back the offer.
Allie was determined not to let him down. Working would stop the wheel of dark thoughts from always spinning in her head. Besides, it would be a good occasion to make some pocket money.
Every day, Allie helped Butterbur clean rooms, provide assistance to the cooks and serve food to the customers. Butterbur definitely needed the extra hand, especially on busy evenings.
At first, Reg and Lena made fun of Allie for doing all that, but then Lena joined in because she was bored and she wanted to spend time with Allie. They tried to get Reg to work as well, but Reg would have none of it. Cleaning rooms and serving food? No thanks!
That suited Allie just fine, since Reg had the patience of a two-year old and would be very ill-suited for customer service. Lena wasn't that much better, but her willingness to spend time with Allie prevented her from going too much overboard with her devilish behaviour. The worst thing Lena did was to turn the work into a competition (to make it more fun, she'd said).
Allie tried to talk her out of it, but Lena was the most gifted person at persuasion Allie had ever met. Soon, without knowing how it happened, she found herself roped into Lena's competition to see who could serve the most customers in one night. That actually went well… until Lena tripped and dropped a plate of pasta on some man's bald head.
"Oh, look! You've finally grown some hair," his friend said after a loud guffaw.
Needless to say, the man in question wasn't happy. After that incident, Butterbur threatened to kick the two of them out if they were not more careful.
"Lena, I know it's hard, but you got to behave yourself if you want to stay here with me," Allie admonished her friend after the fact.
Lena smiled in contrition, though Allie knew it wouldn't last. Oh, how Lena reminded her of Merry. For the first time in several days, she thought back to the friends she had left behind in Buckland. Merry… at least he wouldn't have to worry about being grounded now. And Pippin, she wondered if Pippin was at all aware of what was happening to her. Had rumors of what she had done reached Tuckborough?
She winced at the thought. She didn't want Pippin to hear about it. If he didn't know, then perhaps he would remain her friend, unlike everyone else in Buckland. Though, even Pippin's opinion of her was inconsequential now. She would never return to the Shire. She could not.
She thought back to Frodo, the only person she had told her secret to. She still didn't know what had possessed her to tell him the truth on that moonlit night. She had asked him to believe her, and he did, but now it turned out Father was probably right about her. If Frodo learned she'd truly done such a horrible deed, then he would be back to being her enemy. No, worse, he would probably want nothing to do with her.
Then again, his opinion of her was inconsequential too, for she would never return…
"Allie! The drinks!" Butterbur bellowed over the crowd.
Allie forced herself back to the present and hurried over to take the platter from an unimpressed Butterbur. She flashed him a smile and quickly trod away with the drinks. Work was good. Work interrupted the constant stream of dark musings that seemed to have taken root within her mind.
Working at the Inn had another great perk, and that was to hear gossip about the rest of the big wide world. All sorts of strange travelers came to Bree, some from as distant a land as Gondor. Late at night, they would whisper stories about wars, alliances, Wizards, and the White City. Allie oftentimes crawled under their tables to listen to their tales, all the while trying to avoid the Men's shuffling boots.
"What's up with the guard at the door?" one of the Man grunted, displeased. "Never seen him before."
"Don't you know?" another answered. "They say soon a curfew might be instilled here. No more strangers allowed in or out after sunset and before sunrise. They will build a door with locks and shut down the gate for the night."
"Why's that?"
The second Man's voice dropped to a whisper, "They say strange people have been roaming around town lately."
"Is that all? There have always been strange folk roaming around these streets."
"Yes, but you wouldn't believe where these ones come from."
"Enlighten me."
A pause, and then, "Ever heard of the Shire?"
Allie froze for a second.
"Shire?" The first man pondered.
"You know, that place inhabited by the Halflings. Right, just like that fellow Hob over there. I don't blame you for not knowing too much about them, for not a lot of people do. The Halflings rarely have dealings with other races and have no enemies as far I know, so why would all those strange Men roam around their land?"
"The strangers might roam around the Shire, but that does not mean they come from there. Perhaps they have business with Bree-folk. Some kind of illegal trade?"
"That thought has crossed my mind as well. I've seen them passing by Bree with loaded carts of food."
The first man crossed his ankles and Allie shuffled to stay away from them.
"And where are those carts going?"
"I'm not sure. Some say they are going to Rohan. Or even beyond."
"If that is really the case, maybe a war is brewing."
"Maybe that Grey Wizard has something to do with it."
Allie perked up her ears. Did he really say Wizard?
"I was here years ago when the Grey Wizard was seen leaving Bree with a group of Dwarves and a Halfling. It was the strangest company I've ever seen. They say that they slayed the dragon Smaug and brought back all his treasures."
"It is true," a rough voice interrupted them. There was a knock on the table, like a mug being settled down, and then another pair of legs appeared under the table, but they were so short they did not touch the floor. Allie mused they must belong to a Dwarf.
"I know one of the Dwarves who was in Gandalf the Grey's company. They slaughtered the dragon indeed! It's a story worth telling, if you are willing to listen."
Allie clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the cry of excitement about to escape. Oh, this would be a grand story, she already knew it!
"Allie! Where on Middle-earth are you now?" Butterbur roared from the direction of the kitchen.
Groaning in disappointment, she glided from beneath the table, and under the two Men and the Dwarf's astounded gaze, she swiftly disappeared into the crowd to fulfill her duties.
Days and nights thus passed. Allie soon settled into a comfortable routine here in Bree. She still thought of the Shire and her father whenever her mind was free to drift, so she made sure to fill her day with as much activity as she could.
Reginard, Lena and she resumed their rounds of mischief in the streets of town, just like they used to in the old days. They stole all the saddles from the stables and hid them under bundles of hay, laughing as Bob scratched his head and hunted for them all morning. They found boxes of the darkest brown, tore them into three-inch pieces, softened them with water and molded them into poop-shaped bundles that they left all over the streets. They laughed their heads off when oblivious merchants screamed in disgust upon stepping on them. They hooked a string through an apple and made it dangle over the front door of a textile store, laughing as Big People got hit in between the eyes every time they exited.
Allie laughed until tears oozed out of her eyes. When she played like this, she felt as though she had never left. With Reg and Lena, she could be the Allie who knew nothing about losing her brother, who wasn't burdened by the horrible knowledge of probably having ended the life of a stranger and definitely having ended the life of her own mother.
Still, as the days passed, a sense of apprehension grew in the pit of her stomach. She started to have difficulty sleeping, turning and tossing on the narrow bed in her room at the Prancing Pony. Strange shadows and voices populated her dreams. The voices seemed to call her name. "Allie! Allie!"
She awoke on her back and stared up unblinkingly at the dark ceiling for long seconds. It sounded much like the voice of her conscience, asking her for how long she was going to run away. Didn't she care about the friends she'd left behind, who must be worried for her?
"No, they are not," she whispered to the dark room. "They don't even want to see me anymore. Not after what I have done."
"I don't believe in the rumors," Berilac said.
"You should come over to my house," Frodo said.
Allie buried her face in her pillow. How many weeks had it been since she'd left? By now, her father must have managed to convince even the least gullible minds that she was worthless. She didn't belong in a place where pure-hearted people like Frodo's parents existed. She still remembered how beautiful they had looked on their boat. Why couldn't Father be just a bit like them? Just a bit.
"But I killed Mom," she whispered into her pillow as tears ran down the bridge of her nose.
So, it wasn't even Father's fault. It was all her. She was at the source of it all.
Allie was cleaning a table when the voices of a few Rohirrim traders reached her ears. She paused to listen, and smiled when she recognized the story. Lately, a new tale had started to run amok the travellers. Several people had reported sightings of huge dogs at the outskirts of Bree and the Shire. Huge dogs that looked like wolves, they said.
"Wolves?" a few exclaimed. "Impossible. Wolves have not been sighted west of the Misty Mountains for at least a century."
"Not wolves," another said. "My uncle saw one up close. It was a very hairy man crawling on all fours."
Everyone shuddered, Allie right along with them, for that image was way worse. Folk concluded that it was all very disturbing, and some even feared for their safety as they travelled at night. However, no bodies had yet been found bitten or clawed to death in a ditch on the side of the road, so many hypothesized that the stories were just that, stories.
Allie found herself quite excited at the prospect of wolves being real. She wondered if she'd ever see one someday.
Allie was still musing about wolves on a rainy evening three weeks after she had come to Bree, sitting at a table in retreat of the common room with Reg and Lena across from her. Lena had managed to steal some beer from the kitchen and now they took turns tasting it for the first time. Allie made a face when the drink ran down her throat.
"Pwah! This is disgusting!" she exclaimed as she wiped at her mouth.
Reg made a grimace as well. "I agree."
"You two know nothing!" Lena said, and then gulped down some more forcefully. "All the grownups drink this. It must be good!"
"What do you think of the story with the wolves?" Allie asked.
"Myth," Reg answered immediately.
"Never seen one myself," Lena concurred. "Although I'd like to! I love dogs!"
Reg rolled his eyes. "Wolves are not dogs."
"Yes they are. They are just big dogs. Nothing to be scared of."
Reg and Lena started an argument on how a dog was or was not like a wolf. Allie sighed and looked outside the window at the rain splattering against the pane of glass. It sure was pouring tonight.
The sound of raindrops drumming against the window slowly made her zone out. She stifled a yawn and lazily shifted her gaze from the window to the main door. Two new travellers stood just outside the entrance in the circle of light, shaking their capes to get rid of the rainwater gathered in the folds.
At the sight of them, a string of light pierced Allie's skull from temple to temple. She scrunched her forehead for a moment and pressed her eyes closed. When she opened them again, a middle-aged hobbit was standing by the door of the inn, holding it open as the two travellers stepped in, offering him their thanks. The hobbit smiled up at them, his smile lighting up his friendly face. He turned two warm brown eyes Allie's way and when winked when their eyes met.
Allie was so surprised she looked away for a second. When she focused back on the door, the two travellers were now talking with Butterbur, though there was no more sign of the brown-eyed hobbit. Had she imagined him?
A name burbled up to her lips.
"Tom," she whispered with a chill.
"What?" she heard Lena ask, as though from miles away.
She blinked again. She remembered Tom now. He had been the doorkeeper as well as Butterbur's assistant, just like her father had told her. Tom had always been nice to her and snuck her grilled beef from the kitchen when Butterbur wasn't looking.
She bit her thumb with mounting alarm. Up until now, she had held a flicker of hope that perhaps Father had been lying about everything. But if Tom existed, did that mean everything else was also true? No, something wasn't adding up. If she'd really hurt Tom, Butterbur would have never allowed her back at the Inn. Unless Butterbur wasn't aware of what she'd done?
"What happened to Tom?" she murmured.
Reg and Lena glanced at each other uncomfortably.
"Tom?" Reg started, "why are you asking this? I thought you didn't want to talk about him anymore."
Allie clenched her hand under the table to hide her tremor. "I didn't want to talk about him? Why?"
Reg moistened his lips, fidgeting uncomfortably on his seat. Since he was keeping silent, Lena leaned her elbows on the table and said, "Well, because he died."
Allie's heart started to pound, fast and hard, against her ribcage. "How?"
Lena's mouth twitched. "Look, I also don't want to talk about what happened that day anymore."
"Did I kill him?"
Reg and Lena both gaped at her, but her grey eyes remained steady. "Well? Did I?"
Reg pushed back from the table. "No! Of course not! What's wrong with you? Why are you saying such a thing?"
Allie let relief wash over her, until it hit her—this was too easy. She was on her guard again. "It's because I don't remember what happened."
"What? You don't remember?" Lena frowned. "You never told us that! We thought you… well you just never mentioned Tom at all after that night, so we just assumed you wanted to put the events behind you."
"No. I probably didn't bring it up because I have no memories of that night. But you both were there, weren't you? Can you tell me what happened?"
Lena exchanged an uncertain look with Reg. Reg shook his head, but Lena did not heed his warning. "What do you remember exactly about Tom?" she asked Allie.
Allie chanced another glance at the door. The two travelers had disappeared into the crowd, probably off eating something warm. "He was the doorkeeper," she said in a low voice. "That's all I remember."
Lena gave her a small nod. "That's right. He was the doorkeeper. He's well loved by all the hobbit kids, but it was always clear that you were his favorite. He'd always give you yummy things to eat and sneaked you little presents. We didn't hold it against him, because we knew he probably wanted to make up for your father's strictness. He used to comfort you all the time whenever your father yelled at you."
Allie started nodding. Some of it was coming back to her now.
"Well, then that night happened… though it was just an accident." Lena bit her lip, but Allie motioned her to continue.
Lena seemed highly reluctant, but she sighed and pursued, "That night, Reg, me and you, we were playing in the kitchen and stealing some food to prank the cooks, nothing out of the ordinary, really. But we didn't know the Inn was receiving some important guests. The cooks were overworked and cranky. They got angry with us for being in their way and yelled at us to get out. Reg didn't listen to them, of course.
"Of course," Allie echoed.
"Neither did you, Lena," Reg said.
"And neither did Allie," Lena said with the hint of a smile, though it soon faded. "We continued picking food from the dishes. One of the cooks finally had enough and went to complain to your father, who was drinking in the common room. Your father came upstairs, stinking of beer. He pulled you out of the kitchen and started yelling. I've seen your father mad, but I have never seen him thatmad. His face was all red, and he was spitting everywhere while he shook you by the shoulder. Reg and I got scared and went to hide behind the wall of the hall, right outside the kitchen. You started crying really hard, and then Tom ran over and snatched you away from your father. They started having an argument. Your father tried taking you away from Tom, but Tom wouldn't let him. After awhile, it seemed your father had let go of the fight. But then, moments later, he came back and started yelling harder. Then… in the middle of it all… both Tom and you… tumbled down the stairs."
Lena gulped, her face pale.
"We were so scared and worried about you," Reg continued, "we ran down the stairs, and there was a lot of blood around the both of you. Now that I think about it, where did all that blood come from? Perhaps Tom broke his head against the steps when he fell. In any case, it was just an awful sight."
Allie was shaking visibly now. When Reg stopped speaking, she just shook her head helplessly. "I don't remember it. Any of it. How can this be?"
She then thought back to what her father had told her. "Perhaps Tom was bleeding because… he got stabbed with a knife? Was I holding a knife?"
"What?" Reg exclaimed, eyes wide. "Of course not! It's one thing not to remember, but where are you getting all these crazy ideas from?"
Allie remained silent.
Not knowing that she was doing, she leapt from the table and walked into the crowd. Reg and Lena threw a puzzled glance at each other, and followed Allie as she ran up the stairs to the kitchen.
The kitchen was busy today, too.
Almost as busy as it was that night.
That string of light crossed her temples again.
Allie rubbed her eyes and then slowly walked to the top of the stairs.
It was here that it happened, she thought to herself. It was here where…
And suddenly, just like that, everything came flooding back at once.
Flash back
"Come back here!" Marroc yelled.
"No!"
Marroc seized her by the arm and dragged her out of the kitchen in spite of her attempts to cling to the counters. In the hallway, he came to a halt and pulled her close. "Why are you behaving like this again? I got another complaint tonight!"
"Let go of me!" Allie screamed, on the verge of tears.
He grabbed her by the hair. "Don't use that tone with me, do you hear?"
Allie's scalp was burning from where he pulled. She couldn't help it; she just started crying in earnest.
"Stop crying! I hate it when you cry!"
He raised his hand in the air, ready to bring it down in a deafening blow across her ear, when a hand blocked his arm. Tom stood in between them, his usually warm eyes now glinting cold.
"What are you doing? Let go!" Marroc protested.
"Please, sir, you should not be hitting a child in public," Tom replied with a pacifying tone.
"Don't tell me how to educate my own children! She's always behaving like a disobedient brat."
"Even so, that is simply how most kids are. If you mean to educate her, do it with words. Please let go of her now. You are hurting her."
Allie could see Father no intention of complying, and Tom saw it too. He pulled Allie out of Marroc's grasp, ignoring his furious protest. Once free, Allie ran behind Tom and hugged his leg, peaking at her father with one teary grey eye.
Father's eyes narrowed at the gesture. "Allie, don't make me do this. Come back here right now and let's go home."
Allie shook her head and clung to Tom even harder. Tom draped a protective arm around her shivering frame. "I will calm her down and then send her home myself. And you need to calm down too, sir. You must have had quite a lot to drink tonight."
Marroc clenched his fist. "Who the hell are you to tell me that? And who the hell are you to hold on to my daughter? Let go of her immediately or I will report you! Do you want to lose your job?"
"First, I will report you to the authorities for child abuse," Tom answered placidly, "and I don't suppose you want that."
Marroc looked like he could kill Tom on the spot. "You will pay for this!" he growled menacingly. "Don't think we are finished, Tom!"
He then stomped away in direction of the kitchen.
Tom let out a small exhale at his departure, and Allie also relaxed her grip around his leg. She had never seen her father so furious. The last thing she wanted was to go home with him when he was in this state. She feared she wouldn't even be able to walk tomorrow from the beating she'd get.
Why hadn't she stopped pranking the cooks at the first warning? Now, she would pay the price. She shivered as another big and round tear rolled down her quavering cheek.
Tom carried her up in his arms and gave her a big encouraging smile. "You're all right now, Allie. Your daddy just got a bit mad. Let's give him some time to cool off, and he will be less scary."
Allie just hid her face against his shoulder. Once Father got mad, nothing other than a beating managed to cool him off.
"Come on, big girls don't cry. And you are a big girl, aren't you?"
Allie did not reply.
Tom caressed her head. "Allie, if you continue crying, you will make me sad too. And you don't want that, do you?"
No, she didn't want to make Tom sad. Tom had helped her out again, and she needed to thank him. She finally raised her head and met his warm smile. She wiped her eyes dry and shook her head. "I won't cry anymore if you don't like it, I promise."
Tom smiled. "That's a good girl."
He was about to say something else when he caught sight of something over her shoulder. His features hardened again.
Allie peered back and felt a chill when she saw her father walking back towards them, wearing a smirk that didn't forecast anything good.
Tom tightened his arms around her, stepping back when Marroc stumbled into his space, reeking of alcohol. Had he had another drink during his time away?
"Please go home already, sir. You need to rest," Tom tried to reason with him in a voice he wanted soothing.
"You think you've won, huh?" Marroc spat. "Give me the girl, Tom. Or I will kill you."
Tom pressed his lips together. "I'm sorry, but I can't do that. Not when you are in this state."
Marroc pressed closer, and Tom tensed, his face losing color. Allie glanced down and blinked in incomprehension when she saw a knife in Father's hand pointed at Tom's stomach. Where did it come from? Had Father concealed it under his shirt?
"What are you doing?" Tom whispered in alarm, backing away small step by small step as Marroc followed him forward, holding the knife with a shaky hand.
Horror washed over Allie when she understood Father intended to use it to harm Tom.
"No…" she whimpered.
Marroc pressed the blade forward with a cackle. "I would stop moving if I were you."
Tom obeyed immediately. He didn't have any more room to back off, for now he stood at the top of the stairs. He threw a glance over his shoulder at the steps and his breathing quickened. His grip was so tight around Allie that his fingers were leaving indentations on her skin.
Allie had a glimpse of Reg and Lena peering at the scene from behind the wall of the hallway, but they couldn't see what her father was doing from their angle. Should she cry out for help? But if her yelling made Father lose the little sanity he had left?
Marroc closed his hand around her arm, making her shriek. "Now, give-me-the-girl," he snarled, emphasizing every word.
"P-please stop… it's dangerous," she managed to croak.
"It's dangerous!" he mimicked her in a high-pitched voice, and then threw his head back and laughed.
Tom took advantage of his inattention to close his hand around the wrist of Father's knife hand. He tried to knock the knife out of Father's grip, but Marroc snapped back to attentiveness.
Letting out a cry of rage, Father started to push the knife forward, while Tom pushed his wrist back, struggling to keep the point of the blade away from his stomach.
"Why are doing this, Father?" Allie shrieked. "Stop it! I hate you! I wish my father wouldn't be someone like you!"
Father's eyes found her and the beastly glint in them made her sob get strangled in her throat.
"Really?" he spat. "Well, keep wishing!"
He punched Tom in the gut. Tom gasped and loosened his grip on Father's knife hand. Father didn't even hesitate. He brutally thrust the knife forward, planting the blade into Tom's stomach all the way to the handle.
Tom made a noise between a gag and a grunt. His whole body seized, and his legs gave out beneath him. Marroc pulled out the tainted knife as Tom began his backward fall.
"Tom!" Allie shrieked in alarm. She held her breath as the staircase rose to meet her.
Tom tightened his hold on her and pressed her head against his chest. She didn't see the impact, but felt it in every bone of her body. Tom landed first, with she on top of him. The shock pierced through his ribcage and rippled through hers. And then they were rolling. The edges of the steps dug into her back over and over again as the world spun.
When the series of shocks was over, Allie found herself lying on top of Tom at the bottom of the stairs. Blood was gushing out from his stomach wound and straight into her shocked face. His body twitched beneath her. She had one second to see his eyes rolling back into his skull before a spurt of blood got into her eyes and mouth. A salty and metallic scent invaded her tongue. Her vision turned to red.
She wanted to scream, but only managed to spit blood out. She needed to get away, but her limbs had become jelly. And Tom wasn't letting her go. In spite of death creeping in, he kept his arms tightly locked around her struggling frame.
Red turned to black.
End of flash back
"…wrong? Allie?"
Allie realized she was on her knees at top of the stairs, digging her nails into her face as silent tears rolled down her cheeks. She glanced up and managed to make out Reg's worried face blurring in and out of focus. She took a deep breath and forced herself to chase away the gory images still floating in front of her eyes.
She tried to stand, but faltered, and would have fallen, if not for Lena's hand on her arm.
"Are you… did you remember what happened that night?" Lena asked in a small voice.
Allie gave a shaky nod and wiped her eyes dry with the back of her hand.
"Did they bury him?" she managed to ask.
"Yes, in the cemetery behind town," Reg answered, his eyes flickering between her and the floor. "It's the second to last grave in the last section of the cemetery. Do you remember? We used to draw things on the gravestones there…" He tried to give her a cheerful smile, but she just looked back with her lips pressed into a thin line.
How could he smile and remind her of those childish pranks? She couldn't smile right now, didn't know if she could ever smile again.
Without a word, she began to run down the stairs, trying not to think of the bloody marks Tom's body had left on each step as he'd rolled down with her in his arms. She heard Lena calling out her name, but then Reg's voice told her to just let her be.
Yes, Allie needed to do the rest alone. Everything had happened because of her. If only she had obeyed her father and gone home with him that night… Tom would still be alive.
She now knew why she had chosen to forget this. Horror and guilt took turns flickering within her heart and mind. One second she wanted to drown in tears of distress at what had befallen Tom, and the next she seethed with wrath at her father's actions. One second she regretted ever remembering, and the next she cursed herself for not having remembered sooner.
She ran out in the rain, confused and conflicted, not knowing who to be be or what to feel anymore. She ran past dark streets and ominous figures lurking in the corners. If she had been herself, she would have cowered or hid at the sight of them, but now she ran past them without a second look, splashing her feet across the puddles on the road. The demons within her were much more terrifying than a few lone men lurking in the shadows of Bree.
At the south end of town and on the other side of Bree's main settlements, stood the cemetery. A night watchman usually stood to duty beside a small hut, but the entrance was presently empty. Perhaps it was too wet for him to venture out this night, which suite Allie just fine.
On a hook by the door hung a lamp, casting a weak glow across the curtain of rain. Allie neared it and ventured a peek through the window of the hut. An old man was bent over the table, reading a book. Engrossed, he never noticed when she unhooked the lamp and took it with her inside the cemetery.
The rain had started to pour down harder, the raindrops hammering down Allie's head and face, threatening to put off the light of her lamp. She barely felt the downpour as she hopped from stone to stone, her lamp swinging in front of her to light the way. The flimsy rays of light flashed across half forgotten inscriptions and dark cracks, but she didn't linger on them. Reg had told her where to go. She trudged in the mud until she finally reached the last section of the cemetery, separated from the rest by low metal railings.
She stopped in front of the last to second gravestone; if she could read, she would have seen the name Tom Fallohides encrypted on the ordinary grey stone. Her heart sank at the sight of him being buried at the most desolate area of the cemetery, where the guards rarely bothered to come do the weekly maintenance. Tom didn't have any other family, but he had been nice to her, and in this moment, she felt absolutely wretched for having forgotten about him for so long.
Allie set the lamp by the gravestone with a trembling hand, close enough that the yellow light made the carvings on the stone visible. She sat down in the mud, cross-legged and hands clasped together as though in prayer, though she didn't know who to pray to. She just stayed quiet and still under the pouring rain.
She had a lot she wanted to say, but none of it seemed appropriate anymore after all this time. What could she possibly tell Tom to make it up to him? He had protected her, and as a result he was now six feet under, while her father pranced around merrily in a new place, deceiving the people around him. Nice people.
She clenched her hand into a fist. How could he stab Tom like it was nothing? And over something so frivolous? She'd known for a long time that her father was different. But now something had become crystal clear; he wasn't just different; he was mad. And dangerous.
Allie blinked when she realized the rain had stopped. A fog lingered over the cemetery, though gradually dispersed by the first rays of the morning sun crawling up the horizon, tainting the sky pale yellow.
Lost in her thoughts, she had stayed in front of Tom's grave the whole night. She tried standing now, though her limbs were numb and aching from having stayed in the same position for so many hours.
Allie knocked some circulation back into her legs, and then picked up her now doused off lamp.
"I miss you, Tom," she finally spoke in a small voice that nonetheless rang clear in the cemetery. "And I'm sorry. Ever since I remembered everything, I couldn't help thinking how horrible my father is for blaming me for your murder. But I realize now it was worse for you. I'm sorry you ended up dead because of me. If you didn't know me, you would still be at the Prancing Pony, alive and happy. But in spite of everything, I'm still selfishly glad we met each other. To me, you were such a warm presence in my life. I will never ever forget you again. I promise."
She played with the lamp in her hands, fighting back tears. "Goodbye Tom. I don't know where folk go after they die, but I hope you are in a good place now."
A gust of wind made a few leaves fly off the ground. They twirled around her feet in a whirlwind of brown and yellow, before settling down again. Allie racked a hand through her hair, and after a last glance towards Tom's grave, she walked away.
When she walked by the edge of the cemetery near the guard's hut, a lone gravestone suddenly held her attention for a reason she couldn't name. She gaped at the tombstone. A weirdly magnetic string seemed to pull her in.
Unable to resist it, she let her legs carry her close. She faced the stone with a pounding heart and looked around uneasily, but the cemetery was empty. The stone was ordinary, and carried the passage of time on its worn-out surface. It hadn't been erected recently, not in the last ten years at least. No dried bouquets lay at its foot, so no one had come to visit it for quite some time.
For the first time in her young life, Allie wished she could read letters, so that she could know the name carved upon the stone. Her fingers slid into her breast pocket and took out the portrait of her mother.
She blinked at that warm face, and gooseflesh invaded her arms. Why was she having the strange and absurd feeling that the tomb belonged to Mother?
"Mom…?"
Her mother did not respond, and if she did, her voice was drowned out by the cold wind whistling through the stones.
Allie gulped and reached a trembling hand to caress the cold inscriptions, taking in the way the writings felt beneath her fingertips.
She looked down at the portrait in her hands, where her mom's smiling and gentle grey eyes gazed back at her. Marroc had loved this woman. He had loved her so much that he could even hate his own daughter for taking her life.
Allie realized she couldn't even truly hate her father for everything he had put her through, because of this all-encompassing guilt for having caused the death of her mother. If she had any control over her life, maybe she would have chosen not to be born at all. Maybe it would have been better if she had died at childbirth and her mother had lived instead. Then, would Father, Mother and Robin have been happy together and lived normally just like any other family?
Allie crumpled the portrait in her hands while emptiness ate away at her. "Well, what do you think, mother?" she asked the stone in a voice as dead as the leaves rustling at her feet. "Would it have been better that way?
You were meant to live…
She flipped around with her heart in her throat. Her alarmed eyes quickly scanned the cemetery, but it was deserted. She hadn't imagined it though… she had clearly heard words. Words in the wind that was picked up. It now blew in her ears, whistling among the graves like spirits coursing about.
She was not alone. A surge of fear made her skin tingle.
Thrusting the portrait back into her pocket, she threw a last uneasy glance at her mother's grave before breaking into a mad run away from the dead.
Her heart only settled back into a semblance of serenity once the cemetery was far behind her. Allie only slowed her pace down to a quick walk when the graves faded and residential streets peaked in the distance.
What had that been all about?
Allie had never been so spooked in her entire life. Were ghosts real, just like the Old Forest? At the thought of the Old Forest, memories of Robin came back to haunt her. Ever since the dreadful day her brother had disappeared, it had been one terrible blow after another. She didn't know how much more she could take before she was hammered to the ground, unable to stand back up again.
But that day was not today. Today, she still had some strength left in her. Enough strength and resolve to push aside everything hurtful in her life and focus on the fact that Father had murdered Tom. He should not be allowed to get away with it, not while she still drew breath.
By the time she reached the Prancing Pony and saw Reg running to meet her, she had made a decision.
It was time to go back to the Shire.
Staying hidden here in Bree wouldn't bring her brother back, and it wouldn't bring the past back either. The people at the Shire needed to know about what had really transpired. Her father was the dangerous one, not her, and the residents of Buckland deserved to know the truth. They had welcomed her family. She had become friends with their kids. She needed to warn them of her father, of what he was capable of.
The thought of going back and facing Father scared her to the core. The thought of facing the villagers who hated her and feared her scared her even more. Even so, she had to try her best to persuade them. Not just for her sake, but also for Tom's sake. He deserved that much from her.
Allie looked ahead with determined eyes. Yes, she would no longer run away from the past.
Having made her decision, she ran to meet Reg to tell him of her plans.
Back in Bree's cemetery, miles away from where Allie now was, a pair of shiny black eyes flashed within the bushes growing next to Jessamine's grave.
A beastly form jumped onto the boulder at the edge of the cemetery, and then swiftly disappeared into the lingering shadows that the rising sun hadn't yet been able to reach.