This work is dedicated to the faithful fellowship of the Ainsley-Seekers, committed to spreading love of all things Pimpernel throughout the world. May the hair of your toes never fall out, and you find your own tall, blonde, and handsome Englishman to kiss the steps you walked on.

The Golden Elanor

by Jennie (Hobbit) Ainsley

Chapter One:

Bywater: September, 3018

            The greatest tragedy of war results when the distant battles and far-off horrors are brought to the doorstep of the innocent, and such was the terrors that now captured the attention of the fair hobbits of Bywater. Whereas they had once enjoyed leisure and friendship, they now cowered beneath the rod of terror and suspicion; whereas they had once been ignorant of the pillages upon the outside world, they now learned the price of their blind eyes. Yet could this new government truly be blamed upon them?

             Quiet whispers between old friends and acquaintances rumored of a great and powerful wizard in a far-off land; a man of such power and maliciousness that he had sent this horrific army of distorted giants to govern them and strip them of their former culture. When more than one whisper could be shared (not often, as whips and screams would drive the hobbits once more to the relative safety of their homes) another rumor would spread: that this powerful wizard was searching for something he wanted, something he believed to be hidden within their land. Yet such rumors could not always believed, for they were, perhaps, nothing more than a scattered optimism among a scattered people, placing their weak hope in the belief that eventually this man would find what he was looking for and leave their land well enough alone.

            But for the present, they found enough to keep their minds otherwise occupied, leaving no time for songs or ale. Stories began to spread of hobbits that had been taken from their homes, for challenging the authority or simply for no given explanation, and carted off somewhere shudderingly distant. For the hobbit who prefers the warmth and safety of home to any kind of adventure, this sudden arrest and capture brought chills to their spine and fear to their hearts.

            Some of the more adventurous turned their eyes to the green hills and unlocked gates of Hobbiton – so close, and yet still free from the tyranny of these foul creatures. But the guards at the land's end proved challenging opposition to this vain hope. One in particular – a rather nasty looking thing which called himself Uglúk. Where the other Uruks would steal, he would steal and burn. Where the others would scare, he would terrify. And where others might fall asleep upon the job of guarding… well, he was Uglúk. And he guarded.

            Yet the Uruks, despite what they would have the hobbits believe, were not without fear and suspicion. Rumors spread throughout their number as well and with just as much truth at their kernel. Someone was smuggling hobbits out of Bywater beneath their very noses. They would receive orders from the White Hand to ship a family to The Tower, only to find their homes empty when they went to find the condemned. When the Uruks could not comply, one of their numbers was killed; especially since, as it was rumored, for every hobbit that would disappear from Bywater, the White Hand would receive a small piece of parchment with a small golden flower drawn upon it – a flower known to all friends of the fair realms as a golden elanor of Lorien.

            Yet Uglúk was not convinced. He, after all, was Uglúk.

One warm September day, a day that previously would have been used for an evening party or a languorous walk through the countryside, Uglúk stood guard at his post with a few fellow Uruks, telling the story of the most recent victim to the White Hand's growing frustration with these escapes.

            "Bah!" he exclaimed, upon hearing a defense for the deceased. "Lurtz was a fool! Have you heard the stupidities he stooped to upon letting the creatures go free?"

            The crowd murmured to the negative, so Uglúk willingly began the story.

            "Well, you swine, listen closely and maybe you'll learn something. This Lurtz had taken some wine from these miserable halflings and gotten hisself sluggard on it. While guarding, a cart came riding up with some bundles of hay, bound for the South Farthing, or some such place as they calls it. Being too full of hisself, he gave the hay a quick tussle and let the driver go on his way. Few minutes later, some a' them Southrons rode up, and yelled to him, 'Has a driver been by with a cart a' hay?' The fool shouted back that the man had, and he had let him go through. 'You fool!' the Southron shouted back. 'That man was the Golden Elanor hisself, with one a' them hobbit families in the hay!'"

            The Uruks laughed heartily at this, reveling in the foolishness of their comrade, who so obviously had earned his death if he had made such a foolish error. But Uglúk simply slapped their heads to shut them up.

            "Maggots, shut your traps! The driver of the cart wasn't the Golden Elanor!"

            This silenced the Uruks.

            "No! Not much time later, Lugdush rode up and Lurtz asked if the man in the cart had been found. Lugdush didn't know a thing a' what he was saying: the Golden Elanor's gang had taken another family from their homes, and had escaped them all, disguised as bloody Southrons!"

            Uglúk let out a hearty laugh at Lurtz's failing, but the other Uruks simply gazed among themselves nervously. Such a strange and bewitching plot had been loosed upon Lurtz, and only Uglúk seemed confident that he himself could see through such a plan. As the sun lowered her head beyond the horizon, Uglúk sent the others away to man their guardhouses, settling himself in a position of watchfulness, his whip at the ready beside him.

            When the sun's warmth had faded to a mere haze in the far-off distance, Uglúk observed a pony drawing a cart pulling up to his gate. He stood to his feet, scratched the metal shards lodged on his nose, and grabbed for his whip.

            "What ho, maggot?" he called to the driver of the cart, an elderly woman hobbit bundled in rags, her head nearly entirely hidden beneath a cap of greasy curls. She only looked up with a cough as the cart pulled to a stop by the creature, and then with red-rimmed and droopy eyes, devoid of all life and health.

            Despite his repulsion, Uglúk stepped forward and eyed the hobbit cruelly. "No passage allowed, unless you have business I allow, hag."

            The woman paused to cough some more, finally answering with a broken and hoarse voice, deeper than the wont of most women. "Please let me pass, sir. Me son – he's in the back – has been feeling quite ill lately."

            "Nothing wrong with him a little whippin' won't cure," he growled, heading for the back of the covered cart.

            The woman coughed again, then chuckled a little. "Oh, I doubt it, sir. He's gone all cold and fallen asleep, ever since he saw one of them riders dressed all in black by our house."

            Uglúk's black blood ran cold. "Rider in black?"

            "Oh yes, sir. I only saw him out the window, but I just about died of fear just from the sight of him. And my poor son – right up in that black rider's way as he came barreling down the road. He slashed my son's arm terribly, and now he's been making the most terrible noises." She paused before remarking, "Almost like he's becoming a wraith of some sorts himself, sir."

            Uglúk jumped back in alarm from the cart – he knew only too well the dangers of a Morgul blade cut. He cracked his whip against the cart's pony – a small, bony creature – and bid the woman leave in no dignified words. After ensuring the cart and its occupants were far down the road, he returned to his chair to shudder alone.

            Yet he would not have long to wait. A vibration upon the ground alerted him to the arrival of his kinsman before his eyes saw them.

            "A cart…" the approaching Uruk called out, while still a few feet from Uglúk.

            "What cart?" he replied.

            "A cart headed this way…"

            Before the Uruk could speak further, Uglúk replied hesitantly, "Driven by an old hag and her son?"

            The Uruk went as white as the Hand painted upon his forehead. "You have not let them pass?"

            Uglúk gulped.

            "Maggot! That cart contained those hobbit mistresses condemned to the Tower yesterday! And," the Uruk added, seeing Uglúk writhing in misery. "it was suspected that her driver was none other than the Golden Elanor hisself."

Chapter Two:

Bree: "The Prancing Pony"

            "What ho, Nob!" called the customers to the famous inn, sending the sweet natured hobbit lad running to fetch the men more of his famous soup.

            "What will they be wanting now?" he muttered under his breath, scurrying to and fro in the busy kitchen. Yet under his breath was not quite beneath the hearing of Bob, who also was running to and fro.

            "Ale, good Nob!" he grumbled back. "You didn't expect old Thistlewool to have done with only one tankard, did you?"

            "Aye, he and Appledore did look uncommon thirsty," Nob crookedly smiled, racing out the door to fetch the man another pint.

            Without the kitchen, in the warmth of the Common Room, mine host Butterbur raised a glass to the collection of hobbits, dwarves, and men gathered within, grumbling and gossiping about the happenings in Bywater, among other matters of the world.

            "Doesn't seem natural," grumbled Thistlewool, now comfortably set up with a full mug. "All them queer folk coming in, taking over; if it could happen there, what's to say they won't turn their squinty little eyes to Bree next?"

            "Ah, never you fear, Thistlewool," called back Mr. Rushlight. "They've been settled over there for quite awhile, never even bothering Hobbiton. Why should they come all the way over here?"

            Butterbur, perhaps a bit intoxicated from enjoying the company of his guests and his own ale or perhaps simply staying true to a wizard's description of his mind as like to a lumberyard, but he jumped to his feet and laughed. "I shouldn't care a whit for a one of them coming to Bree, and if he did, I'd run him out of the town on a fence rail! I don't care if they were one of them creatures or even a hobbit who works for 'em, I'd sooner spit my ale at him than share a glass with him!"

            "A toast, then, to our host Butterbur," piped up a hobbit seated near the corner of the room, a sandy-haired lad with his glass upraised – and a softly sinister twinkle of amusement in his eye. 

            Toasting his glass towards his guest, Butterbur smiled and drank a sip. "And a toast back to you, my young lad."

            For a reason unknown to anyone within the inn, the young hobbit found this quite amusing, though he kept his laughter to himself.

Chapter Three:

The Refugees

            "Sir," Nob interrupted gently, "I think I hear more visitors approaching."

            "Bless your ears for being so sharp, Nob," rang out from the door as a dripping wet Meriadoc Brandybuck entered and bid salutations to the familiar crowd within, rubbing his feet dry on the rug by the door.

            "Bless my soul, if it isn't Master Brandybuck once again!" Butterbur said, rushing to the hobbit to clap him on the shoulder in greeting and bending down to help him out of his wet cloak. "You know, we've been talking 'bout those tragic events happening down at Bywater, and I was just about to mention that those folk have nothing to fear, thank to you and your friends!"

            Merry's face grew quite pale, and he laughed uncomfortably, looking about the room in the direction of the sandy-haired stranger. "I don't know what you're talking about, my good sir."

            "Oh, don't mind him!" Butterbur laughed, seeing the direction of Merry's eyes. "We've been talking with him all evening – a good-natured and loyal hobbit if I've ever met one."

            "Well…" Merry said, turning his attention to Nob nonetheless. "I trust you have soup enough for four more?"

            "Oh certainly, Master Meriadoc," Nob said. "Plenty more, actually. We're also expecting your friend Master Samwise and his wife here tonight as well."
            "Sam and Rosie?" Merry asked, turning to Butterbur.

            But his question was cut short by the sound of three horses arriving outside. Bob brought the two in a moment later: an also quite wet Peregrin Took who seemed quite oblivious to the wet, most likely due to the amount of attention he seemed to be paying to his companion, a lovely young hobbit lass. Behind these two also entered a belligerent looking elder woman hobbit, shaking the cold and wet from herself. 

            "Well, Nob, looks as though you had better fetch that soup quicker than quick!"

            "And a pint!" Pippin added after, grinning as he gave his friend a hug and his host a courteous bow. Butterbur smiled and bid the four enter a small parlour already set up for them, just off of the Common Room and with a roaring fire already blazing.

            "What can I say in thanks, sirs?" the young lass asked, sinking into a chair near the fire.

            "Simply that you have not suffered too much in your trip, and that my friend has been a perfect gentlehobbit, Miss Diamond," Meriadoc said, grinning and pulling a pipe from his bag.

            "Oh, both are quite true, good sir. I can never thank you enough; what you did was nothing short of a miracle."

            "Nay, miss," Pippin said gently. "We were but the hands; simply the tool of our leader. It is to him that you owe your life."

            "Your leader?" Mrs. Poppy Baggins asked, her eyes large and full of amazement. "Well then, you must take us to him so that we might thank him!"

            "That is impossible," Merry said between puffs of smoke. "The Golden Elanor works only in shadow, and is known only to his band of followers, all of us sworn to secrecy."

            "The Golden Elanor? What is that?"

            "The Golden Elanor, Miss Diamond, is the name of a humble wayside flower of Lothlorien; but it is also the name chosen to hide the identity of the best and bravest hobbit in all the world, so that he may better succeed in accomplishing the noble task he has set himself to do," said Pippin ardently, before getting up to let in Nob and the soup for the company.

Chapter Four:

The League of the Golden Elanor

            "I had heard of the Golden Elanor," Diamond said after Nob had left, sipping the warm soup gratefully, "but thought he was only a rumor." She paused as Pippin and Merry simply smiled at this, then added, "Then, how many are in your company?"

            "There are eight of us, sworn to follow and protect our brave and courageous leader in order to save your people," Pippin said, offering her more soup. She shuddered at the memories, but thankfully took more soup. Mrs. Baggins grunted under her breath and puffed herself up in obvious anger.

            "Our people… Had you ever been to Bywater before, milords?"

            Pippin and Merry nodded an affirmative sadly, thinking back to happier and more carefree days, just as she was doing.

            "It is not merely the creatures that terrorize our lands: some of the hobbits have sided with them as well! Friends and neighbors, now working for them, helping to arrest their fellow hobbit!" Diamond bit her lip to stop the tears from coming at Mrs. Baggins' words. Pippin offered her his pocket-handkerchief.

            "And not only the men! Did you ever meet Rosie Cotton?"

            Pippin and Merry exchanged worried looks. Mrs. Baggins must not have noticed, for she continued, spite and bitterness in her voice.

            "That…" She seemed to struggle to find the proper adjective for the bitter taste in her mouth caused by the memory. Unable to find one, she simply continued anyway. "She told those creatures some bitter lie and got Milo and Peony Burrows arrested – taken… who knows where! Wrenched from their homes, carted away by those beasts!"

            "There must be some mistake," Merry interjected. "We do know Miss Rosie – she married one of our good friends and is now a rather popular figure in Hobbiton society. I just can't believe she would've done something so cruel."

            Diamond's eyes fell to the ground in sadness. "I would've liked to believe so too, good sir; she was a good friend of mine."

Mrs. Baggins, however, was not so swayed. "There is no mistake. She condemned them to some horrific end, and I only hope that our paths will never cross."

            Pippin nervously clambered to his feet and poked his head outside the door, drawing the attention of mine host Butterbur.

            "What time did you expect Sam and Rosie to be here?"

            "I'm not sure, Master Pippin," he replied, yet his words were drowned out by Nob racing in the room to announce, "Sir, Master Samwise and his wife are here!"

Chapter Five:

Rose

            "I will not see her! I will not see her!" rang out Mrs. Baggins' shrill voice.

            "Goodness, Butterbur! Try to detain them while we get her hidden somewhere!" commanded Merry authoritatively as Pippin tried to steer the two women towards the bedrooms.

            And, in the midst of the chatter, the door clattered open and shut.

            "Hullo, Butterbur! How goes it with you?"

            Quite confused and befuddled by the activities, Butterbur stumbled from the room, leaving Rosie alone with a worried Pippin and Merry, a saddened Diamond of Long Cleeve, and a rather infuriated looking Poppy Baggins.

            "Diamond!" Rosie exclaimed, running forward to greet her old friend. "You are safe?"

            "If you don't mind, Miss Rosie, I'm afraid we must be retiring," Mrs. Baggins said sharply. "And I feel it is only right to tell you that I don't wish to speak with you ever again."

            The words hit Rosie like a slap in the face, and she quite literally staggered backwards. Mrs. Baggins, in the meanwhile, left the room in a huff to find her room by herself. Diamond gave Rosie a rather sad look, then sweetly ran to her old friend to give her a hug before following the older woman. The company of three sat in an awkward silence for a moment, broken only by the sound of an obnoxious voice coming from the door.

Chapter Six:

An Exquisite of '18

            Samwise Gamgee, as the chronicles of the time inform us, was in this year of grace 3018, still a year or two on the right side of forty. Short, pleasantly plump, and gifted with a full head of curly light brown hair, Samwise would've been called quite good-looking, were it not for a perpetual silly and almost childlike expression in his eyes. But, nonetheless, he made for pleasant enough company when one could endure his silly phrases and infantile conversation. And, after all, he had married a beautiful and clever wife, which set all hobbit tongues wagging in curiosity. (No hobbit, after all, can resist gossiping about family history)  

            Miss Rosie Cotton had been the jewel of the Bywater crowd. Known for keeping only the most charming and intelligent of company, it was considered quite an honor to be allowed a dance with her or to be able to discuss the weather for any amount of time. It came, therefore, as quite a shocking surprise when she announced her plans to marry to the Hobbiton gardener. Those who didn't know her well might claim, "It's only natural for a farmer's daughter to marry a gardener" and those who didn't know him well might also claim, "Why shouldn't she settle down?" but to those who knew the situation clearly, it proved quite a puzzle and was often discussed at the local inns and by the gossiping housewives.

            In any case, they had wed and kept a lovely house at number 3 Bagshot Row. The Hobbiton folk had accepted her with ease and joy, and Sam for his part seemed quite blindly devoted to her. Yet all the housewives' predictions sadly came true, and all too soon. Miss Rosie had quite obviously grown to despise her stupid husband, and took no pains to disguise this fact. For once, the people of Hobbiton were grateful for Sam's stupidity, as he seemed unable to notice the disgust she held for him, and also felt grateful for Bilbo's departure some years ago, for Sam often traveled with Frodo to visit the poor old hobbit.

            As the years had passed by, the topic slowly faded from conversation and into the realm of acknowledged fact. The hobbits simply shrugged their shoulders and passed the whole affair off as the fault of that crazy old Mr. Bilbo, whose insanity had obviously been catching.

            In any case, it was this sweet-natured boy who now entered the inn, brushing the rain off his cloak and giving his old friends a rather lopsided smile.

            "Bless me! Mr. Pippin! Mr. Merry! If this ain't the greatest surprise I've had all day!" He raced to hug his friends, then noticed the uncomfortable look on his wife's face. "Rosie, you look like the cat that's got his tail stuck in the door, if you pardon the expression."

            Rosie simply rolled her eyes and sighed. "No, Sam, I haven't gotten my tail stuck in the door. However, I was just insulted by an old… friend."

            Sam's mouth dropped wide open. "Well bless my stars! Who'd ever insult you?"

            "Never mind, Sam," Rosie said patronizingly, before turning her attentions to Butterbur who had once again entered the room, now his head was clearer. "Sir, has my brother arrived yet?"

            "Mr. Carl is just riding up now, miss," Butterbur announced before leaving the room again, scratching his head as he was quite certain that he was forgetting something.

            "Very well. I trust you three will excuse me, so I can say goodbye to my brother in private?"

            It would've been bad form to refuse, so the three simply bowed as she left. It was only Pippin, whose mind had been sharper and his senses keener since meeting Miss Diamond, that noticed Sam's eyes follow his wife's retreating form, watching her with a sad and hopeless longing.

Chapter Seven:

The Courtyard

            Stepping outside the inn, Rosie shivered against the sudden cold and pulled her cloak closer. The sudden silence filled her ears, until she heard steps upon the courtyard ground. Racing forward, she threw her arms around her younger brother and wept in joy as they hugged.

            "Dear Nibs, you cannot be going away!"

            "I won't be gone long, Rosie," Nibs countered, grinning as he pulled his sister back under the covered archway. "I'm just going to Rivendell to see Mr. Bilbo. I'll be home soon."

            "I know," she said, keeping her arm around his waist and smiling gently at him. "I just worry about you so when you're gone. The world isn't a safe place anymore, and I don't know what I'd do without you."

            Nibs laughed. "My silly sister, you talk as though I was the only person you had left in the world. What of the rest of our family? What of Sam?"

            The smile that found Rosie upon the mention of their family disappeared with the mention of her husband. Nibs worriedly turned to her.

            "What is it?"

            "Nothing…"

            "No, it is something," Nibs' smile disappeared, and he turned quite serious. "I've… wanted to ask you something for some time. You know I'm not one to listen to gossip, but after seeing you and Sam together… well…"

            Rosie turned away, but Nibs followed and continued.

            "Does he know… does he know what happened with the Burrows?"

            Rosie laughed bitterly.

            "Does he know that I condemned them to arrest and most likely death?" Seeing the worried look in her brother's eye, her bitter voice softened. "Yes, Nibs, he knows. I told him after we were married."

            "But you told what happened, right? You told him the circumstances, so that he would understand…"

            She turned away again, willing back the tears that came to her eyes. "No. It was too late for that. He had already heard the story from someone else, and wasn't willing to listen to my side of the story, so I didn't even bother trying to set him straight. What would be the point? He hates me, Nibs."

            "He doesn't hate you! He loved you!"

            Again, she laughed softly and Nibs tried to see the expression on her face, hidden in the inky darkness of the night.

            "He did – once. He adored me, he seemed to think I was the earth and the sky, and I was only too willing to let him think that. I'd never been loved so strongly before, Nibs, and I was only a girl. But now…" She sighed gently, then pulled herself up and set her jaw. "I see what a fool I was. He loved me so ardently because he was so simple – he could think of nothing else. But his simplicity has become my downfall, because his simple pride will not allow him to forgive me. But come, Nibs, let us not talk of such things."

Chapter Eight:

The Accredited Hobbit

            The evening had drawn to a close. Nibs had left for Rivendell, after kissing his sister farewell and leaving her on the steps to the inn. Sam had the decency to leave her alone, preferring the company of the Common Room as she watched her brother leave. She tried to be grateful to him for this, for the thoughtfulness that she would wish to be alone, but she still nursed bitter feelings within herself.

            As she watched her brother ride away, memories flooded back to the days of courting, where Sam had seemed such a sweet and ardent slave to her, bringing her flowers, devoted to her every wish. And there was such an intensity to his love, it had fascinated her. Yet, not but a few hours after their wedding it was gone. She had tried to convince herself that his love had been a mere delusion on her part, for there was certainly no hint of it now.

            Her mind also wandered to the Burrows'. She remembered listening to Nibs whisper rhapsodiously to her of Myrtle Burrows' beauty and grace. She remembered watching him write sonnets and letters of love to her, all of which he kept secret and never delivered. And she remembered, with a great deal of pain, the day Nibs had finally told Myrtle how he felt. She closed her eyes as she remembered the fear when her brother did not return home, the wrath when she found him beaten and near dead. Nibs' sobbing eyes as he told her of Mosco and Moto ganging up on him for daring to speak to their sister. Her own deception as she told the wrong people that the Burrows' were hiding condemned hobbits in their home…

            And, for her part, she could understand Sam's blind anger. Hearing from his Frodo that his master's cousins had been arrested, condemned by his own wife's foolish words. She knew the love and respect Sam had for Frodo. Obviously, nothing she could've said would've convinced Sam that she was innocent.

            Suddenly coming to her senses and realizing the lateness of the hour, Rosie shivered and turned to climb the steps to the inn. However she paused, hearing the door open and a figure begin to climb down the steps towards her. Within a moment, she heard the figure approach and greet her.            "Miss Cotton… or rather, Mrs. Gamgee?"

            "Lotho!" she exclaimed, stepping towards the sandy-haired hobbit, who bowed upon her approach. She smiled – it was not often she saw someone she knew from her youth. "It's good to see you again! I was afraid I would be quite bored the rest of the evening!"

            "Bored? You?" Lotho asked in a sarcastic fashion, scratching his nose and smiling. "I had heard you were enjoying all sorts of adventures."

            "I'm afraid adventures are not quite as exciting as people would make them out to be. Other lands never have the peace and joy of home."
            "But, my lady, which land do you now call home?"

            Rosie ignored the question, so Lotho moved on. "I trust, although you have quite obviously given your heart to Hobbiton, you have not entirely turned your back on Bywater."

            "No indeed!" Rosie exclaimed. "If those miserable guards didn't keep it so tightly closed up, I should find myself there quite often."

            "Then, perhaps you might consider doing it a great favor?"

            Rosie stopped, turning to face her old friend in surprise. "What favor could I do for Bywater?"

            "Have you heard of the Golden Elanor?"

            Rosie laughed aloud, the light of the lantern by the door catching the twinkle of her eyes. "Of course! Who hasn't? Everywhere people speak of him, especially in Hobbiton! I think it's the only thing people can talk about!"

            "Well, I have come to Bree in order that I might find out more about him. You see, I have lately been working with the guards of Bywater," Seeing Rosie's worried look, he added with a small grin, "After all, the sooner we help them find what they need, the sooner they will leave our land! You must understand the logic behind that, Rosie." Seeing her give a suspicious nod, he continued. "Anyway, I have come first to Bree and will soon be making my way to Hobbiton in order to find out who he is. He is making things quite difficult for the Uruks, and I fear the longer he is at large, the longer they will stay in our land. If, however, he was found and handed over to them, they might consent to leave sooner… do you see where I'm going with this?"

            Rosie looked quite shocked at her friend, and took a step back. "Then you would send a courageous and wonderful man to his death, in order to save your own life?"

            "You misunderstand me, Rosie! Not for my life, but the life of all the hobbits of Bywater! No one is safe while they are there; the sooner they find the Ri… what they are looking for, the sooner their leader will call them back and our lands will be ours again, set up with leaders selected from the people and allowed to go back to our own ways again. Don't you see why we must find this man?"

            Rosie listened to his speech with a mixture of alarm and disgust. It was true she had heard of the Elanor through the gossip of her neighbors, but it was only a half-truth. She listened with utter rapture for any news they had of him, she made her own conjectures as to his identity, and she followed the accounts of all of his exploits with a pure joy. He had become her own hero, the epitome of bravery and courage and all that was good in the world, mixed in with an almost Tookish sense of adventure and heroics. She turned from Lotho with a laugh and started up the stairs, back into the inn. At the door, she turned back.

            "And why do you tell me this?"

            "Because I want you to find him for me."

            Rosie did a double-take. "You want me to condemn him to you?"

            "You did it once."

            Her face fell, set to anger. She tossed her curls in defiance. "Besides, how could I find him? He is sworn to secrecy."
            Lotho bounded up the steps next to her. "But you are the famous Miss Cotton. You go everywhere and know everyone. You would find him quite easily."

            "Never," she snarled back, snapping open the door and slamming it shut behind her. Lotho watched this with amusement, then called through the door.

            "I shall see you in Hobbiton, Rosie."

Chapter Nine:

The Outrage

            Not much later, a charming cart hitched to Sam's dear pony Bill bore away Rosie and Sam from the inn, leaving Pippin and Merry alone in the small parlour, after Butterbur brought them another round of ale and some cheese to nibble on as they talked late into the evening. After ensuring the inn to be silent and all its occupants to be cozily asleep in their beds, the two settled by the fire to talk business. Well, business of sorts.

            "The trip went well, I trust," Merry asked, answered by Pippin's nod as he gazed into the fire. (No doubt seeing within the flames a pair of sweet blue eyes and a wealth of curls) Merry chuckled, and gave his friend a gentle punch.

            "I think I need hardly ask whether your trip was pleasant."

            Pippin simply smiled, blushing softly. Merry raised his glass in toast to his friend.

            "She is a lovely lass and I wish you the greatest of joy. Now, onto business. You had no difficulties; but did he?"

            "Of course not," Pippin laughed, shaking his head in amazement. "He escorted the two of them all the way from Bywater to the Brandywine, dressed as an old woman!" Pippin and Merry shared a laugh at the thought of their brave leader in curls and petticoats. "But they shall remain safe enough here, he says. Staying with the Heathertoes, I believe. Safe enough from those brigands. He wants you to meet with him next Thursday; he's sent Nibs to meet with the next family, but they're both going to be hard-pressed to get them out after this last escape. But here's his orders – he gave them to me when he handed off the hobbit lasses."

            Pippin pulled from his pocket a small parchment with the next orders written out on it. The two hobbits huddled near the fire to make out the gentle handwriting, before they would destroy the evidence. Unfortunately, they were not quick enough.

            Not three minutes later, the two hobbits found themselves bound and gagged on the floor of the inn, badly beaten, with their assailants riding away down the East Road. As the Uruks rode on ahead, Lotho looked over the documents taken from Merry and Pippin's persons, and grinned evilly.

            "So," he muttered under his breath, "Nibs is a traitor after all, and is headed for Bywater. Dear Rosie, I think you will help me after all."

Chapter Ten:

In the Hall of Fire

            The evening had just begun to fall, the large gatherings had enjoyed a great banquet, and all now retired to the warmth and peace of the Hall of Fire to hear tales and songs of the days of yore. The Last Homely House east of the Sea retained its title for the evening, as the gentle wind and gracious and graceful company softened even the most anxious of hearts. Rosie, for instance, had arrived with Sam to visit Bilbo and see the Elves for herself, only to hear that Nibs had arrived safely, enjoyed his stay, and had already departed for the safety of home.

            Thus, her spirits for the evening were high, as she enjoyed the songs of the Elves. Her comfort, however, was to be sadly short-lived, for another was to enter the Hall.

            "Rose," came a harsh, low voice from behind her. "Imagine the chance of meeting you here."

            "Lotho!" she replied, nearly jumping from her seat. "What are you doing here?"

            "Simply enjoying the music, my lady," he retorted, his voice slightly sarcastic and falling in volume as he leaned closer. "Though I had hoped to speak with you. I never had a chance to speak with you in Hobbiton – I would almost have sworn you were avoiding me when you left to come here."

            "I had no desire to see you again, nor do I wish to see you now. I would ask you to leave, or I will myself." She looked around the room quickly, trying to find a familiar face she could go to in order to rid herself of Lotho. But Sam had gone somewhere with Frodo, and Bilbo was surrounded by Elves, singing his latest rhyme. "But if you wish to speak with me, I would ask you to do it quickly and then be gone."

            "Certainly. I merely wished to know where your brother is."

            "My brother?" she asked, turning in curiosity.

            "Yes, I was told he was heading here."

            "He was here, but returned home before we arrived. Why do you ask?"

            "No reason," Lotho said slyly, scratching his nose and looking around the room in mock ambivalence. "It is simply that I believe I saw him the other day in Bywater."

            "Bywater? No, he was heading home." Rosie's heart began to beat faster.
            "Hmmm… very odd. Well, I guess it must've been someone who just looked like him being arrested and carted away to the South." Lotho rose to walk away, but Rosie pulled him back down to sit beside her once again.

            "What are you saying, you worm? My brother has been arrested?"

            Lotho laughed cruelly. "You are a quick one, Miss Rosie. Unfortunately, it seems your brother has had a double life you did not know about: working for the Golden Elanor. Unfortunately, he wasn't so careful about covering his tracks."

            Rosie's eyes grew in horror. "He's been arrested? Lotho, what… what can be done?"
            "Well… I suppose I could try to get him released – I do have some power with the Uruks after all – but…"

            "But what?"

            "Well, I couldn't barter for his life with nothing, after all! However, if I knew the identity of the Golden Elanor, that would be a different story, wouldn't it?"

            Rosie sat back in stunned silence. Lotho continued.

            "If I knew that information, I could get just about anything I wanted. Now, look here." He produced a letter from his pocket, one that had been taken from the pocket of Meriadoc Brandybuck. "This letter clearly shows your brother to be a traitor, one in league with the Golden Elanor. However, it also makes this statement: "I shall attend the Bag End party on the 22nd of September if you need further instruction." Now, milady, what further information does one need?"

            "Why do you need my help, then?"

            Lotho turned away, his jaw hardening slightly. "I fear I have not made myself very popular by having dealings with the Uruks. However, you are still quite popular, a friend to all and everyone's confidant. And I can provide you with a further clue: Mr. Meriadoc Brandybuck and Mr. Peregrin Took will also be there. I was good enough to leave them alive and unarrested for that very purpose. I know them to be members of the League as well, so you should talk to them to glean further information."

            "What you propose is infamous. You would have me sentence a man to death?"

            Lotho's cruel lips curled into a sneer. "But consider: you would save your brother from a fate worse than death. And also, you would help the people of Bywater rid themselves of these Uruks. All this simply by giving me a single name. What could be simpler?"

            Both fell silent: Lotho in the delight of victory, Rosie in contemplation. She considered the brave man to whom her people owed so much, but also the brother she loved so dearly. She yearned above all to find someone in whom she could confide, someone to advise her. But all she could see was Lotho, grinning cruelly as he stood.

            "I'm afraid I must be going now, but you will consider my offer, I hope."