The Monster of Bywater
Chapter Three - Bagshot 3 Row
By Talking Hawk
The backyard of Bagshot 3 Row was all but quiet, about half the family out of doors on such a beautiful day. Having no fear of intruders of any sorts, it was never fenced off. The only division with the land itself and the backyard was the beginning and ending of grass (the Gaffer preferred keeping grass from growing in his yard, just in case another addition to the family required an expansion of the vegetable garden).
Hamfast Gamgee himself was kneeling over the family's modest vegetable garden, working his small shovel with experienced hands. On the other end of the yard were two stooped over boys - Hamson and Halfred. They were engaged in a game of marbles - trinkets they had most likely received at a more well to do boy's birthday party (as the Hobbit tradition was in giving your guests presents as opposed to receiving them). Marigold Gamgee, the youngest of the three daughters of Hamfast, sat in the middle of the yard. . .well. . .how should I explain this?. . .
Marigold, wearing her favorite red-and-white sundress, squatted on the ground. Her arms bent at the elbows, and her hands pressed against her armpits, she masterfully created the perfect imitation of her beloved Arnold.
'Who is Arnold?' you might ask. Well. . .
"Quack!"
Ah, yes. Arnold was Marigold's precious baby duck, having been caught by Hamfast and Halfred one day when they went fishing. It was most unwilling to move into Bagshot 3 Row, but before he knew it, he was part of the family.
His feathers were a beautiful shade of golden-yellow, still wonderfully soft with newborn down. This aspect of him made him a prized possession amongst Marigold's older brothers - Sam included. More than once she had caught them sleeping with Arnold pressed between their cheeks and the pillow, so admiring of the soft feathers that they simply could not part! Marigold had spent many a morning scorning her brothers for this in hopes of training them to remember that "ducks are people too."
She had succeeded up to a certain point. . .
Arnold's little orange beak opened widely, revealing a small red tongue inside. For no apparent reason (wait a minute - he's a duck; he doesn't *need* a reason. . .), Arnold turned about and began waddling awkwardly across the dirt granules.
"Quack. . ."
Poking out her rear in much the same fashion that Arnold did, Marigold waddled after him, flapping her "wings" all the while. "Quack. . ." she imitated.
Taking off at a run, Arnold opened his tiny wings, his little black eyes shining with the instinct of flight. "Quack!" he cried out, excited by the wind that flowed about his speeding body.
Marigold waddled all the faster. "Quack!"
Suddenly stopping, Arnold turned about. Holding her breath in astonishment, Marigold halted as well. For a long moment, they stared at one another. Then, Arnold rushed forward.
"QUACK!"
"Aaah!" Marigold plopped onto her rear, then blinked in surprise at her pet. ". . .Silly duck. . ."
The duckling cocked his head to the side, baffled. "Quack. . .?"
A pounding of footsteps became audible, pushing down on the spongy grass as the being approached. Hamson and Halfred looked up from their marble game, but other than that, everyone carried out their regular business.
After a matter of seconds, a sweating sandy-haired boy appeared. Face contorted with panic, he panted exhaustingly, and nearly tripped as he recovered from accidentally stepping upon the duck. The bird moved aside, rolling wildly to pick itself up again.
"Quack!!" he cried out indignantly.
"Oh. Sorry, Arnold!" the boy called back over his shoulder. It was only at this time that Hamfast looked up from his gardening.
"Sam-lad!" he announced. His son walked up to him in a dizzy fashion, looking as though he were ready to fall. Hamfast set down his shovel, making ready to catch the lad if this should happen, but Samwise regained his balance. "Sam-lad," Hamfast began again, "what happened?"
Sam thrust a thumb back over his shoulder. "B. . .B. . .Bywater!" he finally gasped. "What about Bywater?" "M. . .M. . ." "Deep breaths, son. . ." Hamfast said, about to rise to his feet and steady the boy, but his other two sons beat him to it. Each cupped one of Sam's shoulders in their hands, Hamson on his left and Halfred on his right.
"M. . .M. . .Monster!" Sam finally breathed. Hamson's eyebrows arched up critically, but a sly grin crossed Halfred's lips.
"Oh?" the Gaffer inquired, disbelief in his tone. "A monster, eh?. . ."
"It's *true*!" Sam cried out, looking from one face to another for any support whatsoever. He received none. "He. . .he *spoke* even!!"
The mischievous expression on Halfred's face grew immensely at this. "And what did he say?" Halfred bent over, and his left arm beneath the small of his kid brother's back and the other hooked about Sam's right leg, he picked him up. "Did he just so happen to say. . .'Mmmm. . .Hobbit for dinner. My *favorite*!'?" Halfred burst into a series of eating sounds, pressing his face into Sam's stomach to paint the entire picture of the supposed "Monster of Bywater."
Sam was less than amused by this mockery. Ordering his brother to set him down, he repeatedly kept on bringing up his hanging left knee in hopes of bopping Halfred in the head.
As Hamson did his best to stifle his laughter, the Gaffer looked as though he were inclined to explode. "Halfred. . ." he growled, "put yer brother down. . .*now*. . ." Halfred lifted his gaze from his brother's stomach, and fear visible in his eyes, he set Sam back down on the ground. Pushing the thought of vengeance out of his mind, the youngest Gamgee boy continued to force his case upon open ears.
"I *saw* a monster!" he announced once more.
Lowering her eyebrows in annoyance of having her pet nearly trampled over, Marigold scooped a somewhat irritated Arnold into her palms. "Daddyyy," she whined, "Sam's being weird agaaaain. . ."
"But it's the *truth*!" Sam hollered, lifting his arms up toward the sky for assistance. Suddenly more clear-headed, the hobbit ignored the presence of his siblings (seeing as they weren't helping at all), and approached his father. Sam laid a hand down upon one of Hamfast's thick and suntanned arms.
"Gaffer," he breathed, his hazel eyes shimmering, "I *saw* something down there. . . You *have* to believe me. . ." Hamfast met his son's eyes, and was amazed by how resolute they seemed. Though the man knew not what his son had been the witness of, the pure honesty that shown through the lad's eyes were almost convincing in themselves.
After a long moment of silence, Hamfast gave a slight nod of his head and pressing a hand against his knee, stood up. "All right," he said quietly. "We'll go check it out."
Nothing else at the time could have overjoyed Sam more. He jumped up and down with relieved happiness that if you could have done cartwheels, he very well might've. Hamson and Halfred exchanged astonished glances.
Striding past the boys, the Gaffer entered the back of the smial, and came back out with an ax in hand. All was quiet, waiting for him to speak. Having initially planned to be vague about his thoughts, he realized now that an explanation was needed.
". . .In the East, they've been havin' problems with wargs crossin' the Brandywine," Hamfast said, gravity in his voice. "It is unlikely that any have gotten this far West undetected, but I wouldn't be willin' to take any chances. . ."
Fear appearing in their eyes, Hamson and Halfred rushed forward, gripping their father's arm pleadingly. "We'll go with you!" they cried out, distraught at the thought of leaving their father to defend himself against a creature as horrible as a beast-wolf. "We can help!"
"I'll have none of this," came the gruff reply, shaking off the hands that clenched his arm. "Sam'll come with me to point out where he saw the brute" - Sam perked up at this, excited by this new concept that he was "old enough" to do something as daring and brave as this. "-And you two will stay here." The Gaffer suddenly lowered his voice, and creaking a bit with age, he put himself down on one knee to be eye-to-eye with his eldest sons. Putting the ax in his belt, he placed one gnarled hand on one of each boys' shoulders.
"I'll be needin' you two to look after yer mother and sisters. If I should not come back, Hamson" - Hamson seemed to snap out of a daze at the mention of his name, and puffed up his chest; the Gaffer gave a solemn chuckle - "you're in charge. Don't let me down, boys."
As trained as they were, Hamson and Halfred bit their bottom lips to force back any sudden outcries of emotion that should overwhelm them. To do such was to show their weakness. However, actions spoke louder than words, and the affectionate gleam in their eyes told what their lips could not.
Smirking proudly at them, the Gaffer rose to his feet and ruffled the boys' unruly curls as lovingly as a father could. Sighing a bit to himself, he approached Marigold - who, by this time, had grown uncharacteristically quiet - and sensed that she knew what was going on. Frowning a bit, deciding what exactly he should do, he placed his hands upon his lips.
A smile quickly took its place as an idea came to him. One strong hand beneath each of her arms, he heaved her up into the air, and tossed her up a bit. The action got the desired response - a long giggle. Smiling all the more, he pressed her to his chest a bit as to rearrange his arms a bit so that one arm acted as a sort of seat for her and the other was free.
"You be a good little girl now," he said, placing a kiss he reserved for his "little princesses" upon her forehead, "you hear?" "Mmm-hmm," came the cooperative reply. His worn face smiled once more, but then faded as a duck was thrust into his face.
"Kiss Arnold!"
". . .What. . .?"
Marigold grinned a toothy grin, and holding her duck as though he were a sandwich - one hand on each side, she pushed him into her father's face once more.
"Arnold wants a kissy!"
Hamfast looked up at her incredulously. "You want me. . .to kiss. . .*him*?" At this point, Arnold quacked as though he were offended by the Gaffer's resilience.
"Oh, come on. . ." Marigold encouraged.
"Isn't this more of a job for Mrs. Arnold. . .?"
"*I'm* Mrs. Arnold!"
"Then why don't *you*. . ." The Gaffer stopped mid-sentence, and looked deep into his daughter's fiery eyes. It struck him that he may be gazing into them for the very last time. 'What do you want her to remember?' he asked himself. 'How stubborn you were, or how much you loved your children? Hmm?'
With a hint of resentment in his face, Hamfast bent his head down, and - after the briefest hesitation - planted a kiss onto the yellow back of Arnold. The duck quacked angrily, insulted by this indignation. In the Gaffer's eyes, it was as though the dumb little bird was crying out, "Ick! Get away from me, you wrinkly old man!!"
"Hmph," Hamfast said, "same to you, ya little feather duster. . ."
His eyes wide, Halfred whispered into Hamson's ear, "Um. . .why is he talkin' to a duck. . .?"
After giving Marigold a quick little hug, Hamfast sat her down on her feet once more. Planting his hands strictly upon his hips, he called out to Hamson and Halfred, "If I catch *either* of you telling your mother about this. . ."
"What will you do?" Halfred asked smartly. "*Kiss* us?"
The Gaffer altered his gaze to Hamson, pointing to Halfred as he spoke. "If I don't come back to ring his little neck, you make sure to, all right?" A grand smile crossed Hamson's lips, thoroughly amused. "Yes, sir!"
"Good. . ." Hamfast turned about and walked a ways, then called back over his shoulder. "Come, Sam-lad. . .let's go." Sam's feet refused to move at first, frozen by apprehension. But then, it was as if a warm summer rain had fallen upon him as - for the first time in years - he saw his father's clenched hand open, beckoning the lad to come over and slip his own hand into it.
His fear melted away, Samwise ran up, and gripped onto his father's hand in admiration.
Chapter Three - Bagshot 3 Row
By Talking Hawk
The backyard of Bagshot 3 Row was all but quiet, about half the family out of doors on such a beautiful day. Having no fear of intruders of any sorts, it was never fenced off. The only division with the land itself and the backyard was the beginning and ending of grass (the Gaffer preferred keeping grass from growing in his yard, just in case another addition to the family required an expansion of the vegetable garden).
Hamfast Gamgee himself was kneeling over the family's modest vegetable garden, working his small shovel with experienced hands. On the other end of the yard were two stooped over boys - Hamson and Halfred. They were engaged in a game of marbles - trinkets they had most likely received at a more well to do boy's birthday party (as the Hobbit tradition was in giving your guests presents as opposed to receiving them). Marigold Gamgee, the youngest of the three daughters of Hamfast, sat in the middle of the yard. . .well. . .how should I explain this?. . .
Marigold, wearing her favorite red-and-white sundress, squatted on the ground. Her arms bent at the elbows, and her hands pressed against her armpits, she masterfully created the perfect imitation of her beloved Arnold.
'Who is Arnold?' you might ask. Well. . .
"Quack!"
Ah, yes. Arnold was Marigold's precious baby duck, having been caught by Hamfast and Halfred one day when they went fishing. It was most unwilling to move into Bagshot 3 Row, but before he knew it, he was part of the family.
His feathers were a beautiful shade of golden-yellow, still wonderfully soft with newborn down. This aspect of him made him a prized possession amongst Marigold's older brothers - Sam included. More than once she had caught them sleeping with Arnold pressed between their cheeks and the pillow, so admiring of the soft feathers that they simply could not part! Marigold had spent many a morning scorning her brothers for this in hopes of training them to remember that "ducks are people too."
She had succeeded up to a certain point. . .
Arnold's little orange beak opened widely, revealing a small red tongue inside. For no apparent reason (wait a minute - he's a duck; he doesn't *need* a reason. . .), Arnold turned about and began waddling awkwardly across the dirt granules.
"Quack. . ."
Poking out her rear in much the same fashion that Arnold did, Marigold waddled after him, flapping her "wings" all the while. "Quack. . ." she imitated.
Taking off at a run, Arnold opened his tiny wings, his little black eyes shining with the instinct of flight. "Quack!" he cried out, excited by the wind that flowed about his speeding body.
Marigold waddled all the faster. "Quack!"
Suddenly stopping, Arnold turned about. Holding her breath in astonishment, Marigold halted as well. For a long moment, they stared at one another. Then, Arnold rushed forward.
"QUACK!"
"Aaah!" Marigold plopped onto her rear, then blinked in surprise at her pet. ". . .Silly duck. . ."
The duckling cocked his head to the side, baffled. "Quack. . .?"
A pounding of footsteps became audible, pushing down on the spongy grass as the being approached. Hamson and Halfred looked up from their marble game, but other than that, everyone carried out their regular business.
After a matter of seconds, a sweating sandy-haired boy appeared. Face contorted with panic, he panted exhaustingly, and nearly tripped as he recovered from accidentally stepping upon the duck. The bird moved aside, rolling wildly to pick itself up again.
"Quack!!" he cried out indignantly.
"Oh. Sorry, Arnold!" the boy called back over his shoulder. It was only at this time that Hamfast looked up from his gardening.
"Sam-lad!" he announced. His son walked up to him in a dizzy fashion, looking as though he were ready to fall. Hamfast set down his shovel, making ready to catch the lad if this should happen, but Samwise regained his balance. "Sam-lad," Hamfast began again, "what happened?"
Sam thrust a thumb back over his shoulder. "B. . .B. . .Bywater!" he finally gasped. "What about Bywater?" "M. . .M. . ." "Deep breaths, son. . ." Hamfast said, about to rise to his feet and steady the boy, but his other two sons beat him to it. Each cupped one of Sam's shoulders in their hands, Hamson on his left and Halfred on his right.
"M. . .M. . .Monster!" Sam finally breathed. Hamson's eyebrows arched up critically, but a sly grin crossed Halfred's lips.
"Oh?" the Gaffer inquired, disbelief in his tone. "A monster, eh?. . ."
"It's *true*!" Sam cried out, looking from one face to another for any support whatsoever. He received none. "He. . .he *spoke* even!!"
The mischievous expression on Halfred's face grew immensely at this. "And what did he say?" Halfred bent over, and his left arm beneath the small of his kid brother's back and the other hooked about Sam's right leg, he picked him up. "Did he just so happen to say. . .'Mmmm. . .Hobbit for dinner. My *favorite*!'?" Halfred burst into a series of eating sounds, pressing his face into Sam's stomach to paint the entire picture of the supposed "Monster of Bywater."
Sam was less than amused by this mockery. Ordering his brother to set him down, he repeatedly kept on bringing up his hanging left knee in hopes of bopping Halfred in the head.
As Hamson did his best to stifle his laughter, the Gaffer looked as though he were inclined to explode. "Halfred. . ." he growled, "put yer brother down. . .*now*. . ." Halfred lifted his gaze from his brother's stomach, and fear visible in his eyes, he set Sam back down on the ground. Pushing the thought of vengeance out of his mind, the youngest Gamgee boy continued to force his case upon open ears.
"I *saw* a monster!" he announced once more.
Lowering her eyebrows in annoyance of having her pet nearly trampled over, Marigold scooped a somewhat irritated Arnold into her palms. "Daddyyy," she whined, "Sam's being weird agaaaain. . ."
"But it's the *truth*!" Sam hollered, lifting his arms up toward the sky for assistance. Suddenly more clear-headed, the hobbit ignored the presence of his siblings (seeing as they weren't helping at all), and approached his father. Sam laid a hand down upon one of Hamfast's thick and suntanned arms.
"Gaffer," he breathed, his hazel eyes shimmering, "I *saw* something down there. . . You *have* to believe me. . ." Hamfast met his son's eyes, and was amazed by how resolute they seemed. Though the man knew not what his son had been the witness of, the pure honesty that shown through the lad's eyes were almost convincing in themselves.
After a long moment of silence, Hamfast gave a slight nod of his head and pressing a hand against his knee, stood up. "All right," he said quietly. "We'll go check it out."
Nothing else at the time could have overjoyed Sam more. He jumped up and down with relieved happiness that if you could have done cartwheels, he very well might've. Hamson and Halfred exchanged astonished glances.
Striding past the boys, the Gaffer entered the back of the smial, and came back out with an ax in hand. All was quiet, waiting for him to speak. Having initially planned to be vague about his thoughts, he realized now that an explanation was needed.
". . .In the East, they've been havin' problems with wargs crossin' the Brandywine," Hamfast said, gravity in his voice. "It is unlikely that any have gotten this far West undetected, but I wouldn't be willin' to take any chances. . ."
Fear appearing in their eyes, Hamson and Halfred rushed forward, gripping their father's arm pleadingly. "We'll go with you!" they cried out, distraught at the thought of leaving their father to defend himself against a creature as horrible as a beast-wolf. "We can help!"
"I'll have none of this," came the gruff reply, shaking off the hands that clenched his arm. "Sam'll come with me to point out where he saw the brute" - Sam perked up at this, excited by this new concept that he was "old enough" to do something as daring and brave as this. "-And you two will stay here." The Gaffer suddenly lowered his voice, and creaking a bit with age, he put himself down on one knee to be eye-to-eye with his eldest sons. Putting the ax in his belt, he placed one gnarled hand on one of each boys' shoulders.
"I'll be needin' you two to look after yer mother and sisters. If I should not come back, Hamson" - Hamson seemed to snap out of a daze at the mention of his name, and puffed up his chest; the Gaffer gave a solemn chuckle - "you're in charge. Don't let me down, boys."
As trained as they were, Hamson and Halfred bit their bottom lips to force back any sudden outcries of emotion that should overwhelm them. To do such was to show their weakness. However, actions spoke louder than words, and the affectionate gleam in their eyes told what their lips could not.
Smirking proudly at them, the Gaffer rose to his feet and ruffled the boys' unruly curls as lovingly as a father could. Sighing a bit to himself, he approached Marigold - who, by this time, had grown uncharacteristically quiet - and sensed that she knew what was going on. Frowning a bit, deciding what exactly he should do, he placed his hands upon his lips.
A smile quickly took its place as an idea came to him. One strong hand beneath each of her arms, he heaved her up into the air, and tossed her up a bit. The action got the desired response - a long giggle. Smiling all the more, he pressed her to his chest a bit as to rearrange his arms a bit so that one arm acted as a sort of seat for her and the other was free.
"You be a good little girl now," he said, placing a kiss he reserved for his "little princesses" upon her forehead, "you hear?" "Mmm-hmm," came the cooperative reply. His worn face smiled once more, but then faded as a duck was thrust into his face.
"Kiss Arnold!"
". . .What. . .?"
Marigold grinned a toothy grin, and holding her duck as though he were a sandwich - one hand on each side, she pushed him into her father's face once more.
"Arnold wants a kissy!"
Hamfast looked up at her incredulously. "You want me. . .to kiss. . .*him*?" At this point, Arnold quacked as though he were offended by the Gaffer's resilience.
"Oh, come on. . ." Marigold encouraged.
"Isn't this more of a job for Mrs. Arnold. . .?"
"*I'm* Mrs. Arnold!"
"Then why don't *you*. . ." The Gaffer stopped mid-sentence, and looked deep into his daughter's fiery eyes. It struck him that he may be gazing into them for the very last time. 'What do you want her to remember?' he asked himself. 'How stubborn you were, or how much you loved your children? Hmm?'
With a hint of resentment in his face, Hamfast bent his head down, and - after the briefest hesitation - planted a kiss onto the yellow back of Arnold. The duck quacked angrily, insulted by this indignation. In the Gaffer's eyes, it was as though the dumb little bird was crying out, "Ick! Get away from me, you wrinkly old man!!"
"Hmph," Hamfast said, "same to you, ya little feather duster. . ."
His eyes wide, Halfred whispered into Hamson's ear, "Um. . .why is he talkin' to a duck. . .?"
After giving Marigold a quick little hug, Hamfast sat her down on her feet once more. Planting his hands strictly upon his hips, he called out to Hamson and Halfred, "If I catch *either* of you telling your mother about this. . ."
"What will you do?" Halfred asked smartly. "*Kiss* us?"
The Gaffer altered his gaze to Hamson, pointing to Halfred as he spoke. "If I don't come back to ring his little neck, you make sure to, all right?" A grand smile crossed Hamson's lips, thoroughly amused. "Yes, sir!"
"Good. . ." Hamfast turned about and walked a ways, then called back over his shoulder. "Come, Sam-lad. . .let's go." Sam's feet refused to move at first, frozen by apprehension. But then, it was as if a warm summer rain had fallen upon him as - for the first time in years - he saw his father's clenched hand open, beckoning the lad to come over and slip his own hand into it.
His fear melted away, Samwise ran up, and gripped onto his father's hand in admiration.