Author's Note: The title of this story if subject to change, since "Elanor"
really isn't the world's most creative title. Heh. I usually name my
stories after I write them, and since I obviously haven't finished yet (it
does get more exciting, I promise) I don't have a title as of now. If you
have a suggestion, let me know in a review. I like reviews. yes,
precious.*coughs* Right then.. On with my story.
The cart jolted suddenly, as though someone had bumped into it rather violently, and I heard voices from outside. My stomach tightened as I realized that they were leaving. I began to adjust my skirts in order to have a more comfortable journey, but I stopped as I heard my father's voice.
"Well, off you go then," he said, his voice full of laughter. I could hear my brothers and sisters shouting their farewells from the house. It must have been a sight to see, thirteen small hobbits, all hanging out the windows of Bag End, waving furiously. "It's a shame Elanor missed you. I would think she would have wished to see you off." I winced as he said my name, already having second thoughts about my rash decision. I remained seated, however, with my ear pressed against the side of the wagon.
"Oh, I am sure she has something important to do at the market," said Mr. Merry. "We will see her when we return."
"She is probably meeting some handsome young hobbit-lad, if I know your daughter." I made at face at Mr. Pippin's comment, even though I knew he could not see me. "Elanor certainly has her share of suitors, doesn't she?"
"Yes, she does." I could hear the smile in my father's voice. "Yes, she certainly does." There was a pause. "Well, go on then. You'll have to hurry if you're going to get there when you mean to." The cart jolted again as the drivers got into their seat.
"Off we go!" Mr. Pippin cried, and I heard the reins snap. The cart moved forward slowly, and I could hear the crunching of pebbles in the dirt beneath the wheels. The fact that I was leaving my home and would likely not see it again for a long while hit me hard all of a sudden, and my eyes grew damp. I scrambled to the back of the wagon and fumbled at the doors. They were locked from the outside, of course, but the latch had been hastily made and I was able to open it quite a few inches before the doors held fast. Peering though the crack I had made in the wall, I struggled to catch a last glimpse of my father and was rewarded with the brief sight of his back as he turned to go back into the house. Then the cart rounded a corner and he was lost from sight.
I let out a shaky sigh, and crawled slowly back to the seat I had made for myself among the baskets of clothes and the jugs of ale. My legs felt surprisingly rubbery, and I mentally berated myself. I had chosen to do this, hadn't I? Hadn't I been wishing for an adventure of my own ever since Mother and Father had taken me to Gondor that one time when I was in my tweens? Honestly, I was being a baby. Here I was, finally getting what I wanted most of all, and I was on the verge of tears. One would think that I would instead be thankful that Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin had stopped in as they had the night before. They went on journeys often enough, but they normally did not stop in at Bag End before doing so. I smiled a wobbly smile, thinking of the way I had eavesdropped on the conversation that had taken place between my father and the two of them. That had been when I had discovered the plans for my father's dear friends to travel to Gondor and Rohan to visit some old acquaintances living there.
Thinking of my father made my stomach tighten unpleasantly once more. At the moment my family would be eating breakfast- sausages and some sort of bread this morning, if my nose had not been mistaken- but it would not be long before my father would rise from the table, praising the excellent meal, kiss Mother on the cheek, and head off to his study to work on his book, which he has been particularly busy with as of late. He would soon find the second note I had left for him, hidden among the many papers on his desk. I had meant for that letter to be found after I was long gone, which was why I had left another note in the center of the kitchen table which said that I had left early for the market. It pained me to imagine what my father's reaction would be. He would most likely be surprised, even shocked, that I would do such a thing. That would probably be followed by a disappointment in me, as well as a sadness that I had left without saying good-bye.
My eyes were filling with tears again, and I knew that if I continued thinking this way they would spill over and I would begin to cry. To avoid that uncomfortable situation, I settled back against a large jug of ale- honestly, how much beer did these two need to bring with them? - and tried to fall asleep.
The cart jolted suddenly, as though someone had bumped into it rather violently, and I heard voices from outside. My stomach tightened as I realized that they were leaving. I began to adjust my skirts in order to have a more comfortable journey, but I stopped as I heard my father's voice.
"Well, off you go then," he said, his voice full of laughter. I could hear my brothers and sisters shouting their farewells from the house. It must have been a sight to see, thirteen small hobbits, all hanging out the windows of Bag End, waving furiously. "It's a shame Elanor missed you. I would think she would have wished to see you off." I winced as he said my name, already having second thoughts about my rash decision. I remained seated, however, with my ear pressed against the side of the wagon.
"Oh, I am sure she has something important to do at the market," said Mr. Merry. "We will see her when we return."
"She is probably meeting some handsome young hobbit-lad, if I know your daughter." I made at face at Mr. Pippin's comment, even though I knew he could not see me. "Elanor certainly has her share of suitors, doesn't she?"
"Yes, she does." I could hear the smile in my father's voice. "Yes, she certainly does." There was a pause. "Well, go on then. You'll have to hurry if you're going to get there when you mean to." The cart jolted again as the drivers got into their seat.
"Off we go!" Mr. Pippin cried, and I heard the reins snap. The cart moved forward slowly, and I could hear the crunching of pebbles in the dirt beneath the wheels. The fact that I was leaving my home and would likely not see it again for a long while hit me hard all of a sudden, and my eyes grew damp. I scrambled to the back of the wagon and fumbled at the doors. They were locked from the outside, of course, but the latch had been hastily made and I was able to open it quite a few inches before the doors held fast. Peering though the crack I had made in the wall, I struggled to catch a last glimpse of my father and was rewarded with the brief sight of his back as he turned to go back into the house. Then the cart rounded a corner and he was lost from sight.
I let out a shaky sigh, and crawled slowly back to the seat I had made for myself among the baskets of clothes and the jugs of ale. My legs felt surprisingly rubbery, and I mentally berated myself. I had chosen to do this, hadn't I? Hadn't I been wishing for an adventure of my own ever since Mother and Father had taken me to Gondor that one time when I was in my tweens? Honestly, I was being a baby. Here I was, finally getting what I wanted most of all, and I was on the verge of tears. One would think that I would instead be thankful that Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin had stopped in as they had the night before. They went on journeys often enough, but they normally did not stop in at Bag End before doing so. I smiled a wobbly smile, thinking of the way I had eavesdropped on the conversation that had taken place between my father and the two of them. That had been when I had discovered the plans for my father's dear friends to travel to Gondor and Rohan to visit some old acquaintances living there.
Thinking of my father made my stomach tighten unpleasantly once more. At the moment my family would be eating breakfast- sausages and some sort of bread this morning, if my nose had not been mistaken- but it would not be long before my father would rise from the table, praising the excellent meal, kiss Mother on the cheek, and head off to his study to work on his book, which he has been particularly busy with as of late. He would soon find the second note I had left for him, hidden among the many papers on his desk. I had meant for that letter to be found after I was long gone, which was why I had left another note in the center of the kitchen table which said that I had left early for the market. It pained me to imagine what my father's reaction would be. He would most likely be surprised, even shocked, that I would do such a thing. That would probably be followed by a disappointment in me, as well as a sadness that I had left without saying good-bye.
My eyes were filling with tears again, and I knew that if I continued thinking this way they would spill over and I would begin to cry. To avoid that uncomfortable situation, I settled back against a large jug of ale- honestly, how much beer did these two need to bring with them? - and tried to fall asleep.