Author's Note: Meh, I'm slow in updating. Well, here's more. *looks around
hopefully for readers* Heh. And please trust me when I say it ought to get
more interesting. Chapter one was just an intro. *grins winningly* Oh, I
forgot I disclaimer in Chapter 1, and I'm too lazy to reload it, so.
Disclaimer: I pretty much own no one, except for the odd character I make up for plot purposes, like Essie and Margaret in this chapter. Otherwise, everything is Tolkien's.
I was surprised at how tired I was, although looking back I realized that I really had not gotten much sleep the night before, what with the eavesdropping, and the excitement, and waking up early to leave the notes and hide myself in the cart. As it was, as soon as I had found a spot to rest my head I began to doze. The jerking and bumping of the wagon prevented me from reaching actual sleep, but I did hover on the edge of it for a bit. While I was nodding off, I found myself remembering an instance that had occurred when I was younger.
I had been walking to the post office with my friend Essie Goodbody. I was only nine at the time, and I recall being extremely proud that Father had trusted me enough to carry his letter all the way from Bag End to the post office, which was near the center of Hobbiton. It was rather warm outside, considering it was March, and Essie and I had taken off our cloaks and had them draped over our arms as we walked, talking excitedly. Essie was teasing me about a hobbit-lad, Will Bolger, who had reputedly been asking about me at school the week before.
"He must like you, Elanor! Why else would he be asking after you?" Essie had been trying to convince me of this ever since we had passed the mill.
I made a face. "He was probably only wondering why I was not at school. I do not miss school often." I had stayed home to help my mother take care of my brothers, who had all managed to get sick at once. They were a handful when they were healthy, and my mother needed all the help she could get when they were sick.
Essie sighed despairingly, as though I was being quite stupid. "Yes, he may have been, but why would he ask if he did not have a reason? It makes sense. You are certainly pretty enough for it to make sense, Elanor." At the age of nine, the only logical reason (from out point of view, anyway) for a hobbit-lad to chase after a lass would be if he found her pretty.
I found myself blushing. I had always been told I was pretty, by both my family and my friends, and I knew by now that they were correct in saying so. That did not mean I liked the situation. If the boys were to like me, I wanted it to be because they thought I was fun to be with, not because they thought I was nice-looking.
"I don't care if I'm pretty enough. If he only likes me because of that, then I do not like him at all," I retorted with a toss of my head. A few old gaffers sitting on the front stoop of the house we were passing smiled at us. Essie waved merrily at them as we walked by, and their smiles deepened at the sight of two happy young hobbit-lasses.
As the gaffers faded from view, I said impatiently, "Come now, let's talk about something else. I could care less about silly old Will Bolger." I looked around. It was a little bit after noontime, and the sun had lit up the fields around us in bright colors. "Let's take a short-cut across the grass. I want to get father's letter to the post office as fast as I can!" Without waiting for an answer, I took off across the field as fast as I could. I heard Essie shout in surprise, then begin laughing as she took off after me.
We raced across the meadow as fast as we could. As we neared the road, we came across a hobbit-hole. Laughing mischievously, I ran up to the roof of the hole and turned a cartwheel. Essie and I jumped around on the hill for a bit, until the owner of the hole came out and shouted for us to get off of their house. We rolled down the hill and finally reached the road, feeling quite out of breath and looking a mess. I reached into my pocket and pulled out Father's letter; it was a bit crumpled, but otherwise none the worse for the wear.
Looking around, I noticed some girls from school sitting on a front lawn a few yards away, playing with dolls. I recognized one of them as Margaret Hornblower, a lass from school I had never gotten along with. She had a mean-spirited sense of humor, and never missed a chance to make another hobbit feel stupid. Seeing her, I tried my best to flatten my curls and brush off my dress. Essie did likewise.
"Come on, Elanor," Essie said. "Let's walk by them and act very important. After all, we are on an important mission, while they are playing with dolls." She sniffed, trying her best to look haughty. The expression did not suit her sweet features, and I laughed at her. I did agree to do as she said, however, and we began to walk down the lane, putting our noses as high into the air as they could go. I made sure that the letter I was carrying was in plain sight as we passed them.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Margaret look at us and make a face. Putting down her doll, she nodded toward Essie and myself and said loudly to the other girls, "Look at that Elanor Gamgee. She thinks she is better than the rest of us, just because her gaffer is the mayor." The other lasses snickered appreciatively. I gave them no reply, except to put my nose further into the air. My lack of response did not go unnoticed by Margaret, and she raised her voice. "Her father only got to be the mayor because he is friends with the Thain. He is really just a stupid, fat hobbit."
I whirled around, suddenly seeing red. "Don't say such things about my father!" I cried starting towards Margaret.
Essie grabbed my arm. "Please, Elanor, ignore her. Don't fight with her." I roughly shook off her hand and she fell back, watching me nervously.
Margaret smirked at me, standing up and brushing off her skirts primly. "It is only the truth, Elanor."
"You take it back!"
"I will not." Another smirk.
This was all too much for me, and I launched myself at her. She let out a shriek. What followed was not much of a proper fight. I only got a few good punches in, but then she did not get any. She only flailed her hands around and cried out for her friends to help her. Essie stood off to one side, yelling for me to stop before I got into trouble.
Her warnings did me no good. In a few moments the hobbits in the nearby holes had pulled us apart. I immediately felt ashamed of myself, and the many reprimands I received for my actions were not necessary. When told to return home, I replied meekly that I had to deliver a letter to the post office. One of the hobbits took the letter from me, promising that he would deliver it for me.
I walked home, feeling extremely downhearted as I waved goodbye to Essie as we passed her house. I was left to face my father alone.
Thankfully, he was more disappointed with me than he was angry. He looked down at me with solemn eyes, and asked me why I had fought with another hobbit-lass.
"Because she said mean things about you, Sam-dad!" I cried, remembering what Margaret had said. "I could not let her say that!"
My father sighed, and seemed very sad. "I don't want you fighting with other children, Ellie, not even for me. Do you understand?" He held me gently by the shoulders.
I frowned, not understanding. "But. if someone says something bad about you."
"No, Elanor. You shouldn't fight because someone does something mean. So long as she's not hurting anyone, you mustn't take her bait. When you do, you're stooping to her level." He raised his eyebrows, and his normally cheerful round face was full of seriousness. I nodded, although I was not sure I completely understood what he was saying. It made more sense, in my mind, to teach anyone who insulted my father a lesson. But I knew my father knew much more than I did, and I did not want to disappoint him further. In any case, this conversation only proved to me that Margaret was very, very wrong in saying that my father was stupid. He was by far the smartest hobbit I knew.
Another Disclaimer: I don't own the "stupid, fat hobbit" line either. That belongs to Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, Phillipa Boyens, and Stephen Sinclair (whoever the heck he is). I just couldn't resist putting it in. *grins*
Disclaimer: I pretty much own no one, except for the odd character I make up for plot purposes, like Essie and Margaret in this chapter. Otherwise, everything is Tolkien's.
I was surprised at how tired I was, although looking back I realized that I really had not gotten much sleep the night before, what with the eavesdropping, and the excitement, and waking up early to leave the notes and hide myself in the cart. As it was, as soon as I had found a spot to rest my head I began to doze. The jerking and bumping of the wagon prevented me from reaching actual sleep, but I did hover on the edge of it for a bit. While I was nodding off, I found myself remembering an instance that had occurred when I was younger.
I had been walking to the post office with my friend Essie Goodbody. I was only nine at the time, and I recall being extremely proud that Father had trusted me enough to carry his letter all the way from Bag End to the post office, which was near the center of Hobbiton. It was rather warm outside, considering it was March, and Essie and I had taken off our cloaks and had them draped over our arms as we walked, talking excitedly. Essie was teasing me about a hobbit-lad, Will Bolger, who had reputedly been asking about me at school the week before.
"He must like you, Elanor! Why else would he be asking after you?" Essie had been trying to convince me of this ever since we had passed the mill.
I made a face. "He was probably only wondering why I was not at school. I do not miss school often." I had stayed home to help my mother take care of my brothers, who had all managed to get sick at once. They were a handful when they were healthy, and my mother needed all the help she could get when they were sick.
Essie sighed despairingly, as though I was being quite stupid. "Yes, he may have been, but why would he ask if he did not have a reason? It makes sense. You are certainly pretty enough for it to make sense, Elanor." At the age of nine, the only logical reason (from out point of view, anyway) for a hobbit-lad to chase after a lass would be if he found her pretty.
I found myself blushing. I had always been told I was pretty, by both my family and my friends, and I knew by now that they were correct in saying so. That did not mean I liked the situation. If the boys were to like me, I wanted it to be because they thought I was fun to be with, not because they thought I was nice-looking.
"I don't care if I'm pretty enough. If he only likes me because of that, then I do not like him at all," I retorted with a toss of my head. A few old gaffers sitting on the front stoop of the house we were passing smiled at us. Essie waved merrily at them as we walked by, and their smiles deepened at the sight of two happy young hobbit-lasses.
As the gaffers faded from view, I said impatiently, "Come now, let's talk about something else. I could care less about silly old Will Bolger." I looked around. It was a little bit after noontime, and the sun had lit up the fields around us in bright colors. "Let's take a short-cut across the grass. I want to get father's letter to the post office as fast as I can!" Without waiting for an answer, I took off across the field as fast as I could. I heard Essie shout in surprise, then begin laughing as she took off after me.
We raced across the meadow as fast as we could. As we neared the road, we came across a hobbit-hole. Laughing mischievously, I ran up to the roof of the hole and turned a cartwheel. Essie and I jumped around on the hill for a bit, until the owner of the hole came out and shouted for us to get off of their house. We rolled down the hill and finally reached the road, feeling quite out of breath and looking a mess. I reached into my pocket and pulled out Father's letter; it was a bit crumpled, but otherwise none the worse for the wear.
Looking around, I noticed some girls from school sitting on a front lawn a few yards away, playing with dolls. I recognized one of them as Margaret Hornblower, a lass from school I had never gotten along with. She had a mean-spirited sense of humor, and never missed a chance to make another hobbit feel stupid. Seeing her, I tried my best to flatten my curls and brush off my dress. Essie did likewise.
"Come on, Elanor," Essie said. "Let's walk by them and act very important. After all, we are on an important mission, while they are playing with dolls." She sniffed, trying her best to look haughty. The expression did not suit her sweet features, and I laughed at her. I did agree to do as she said, however, and we began to walk down the lane, putting our noses as high into the air as they could go. I made sure that the letter I was carrying was in plain sight as we passed them.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Margaret look at us and make a face. Putting down her doll, she nodded toward Essie and myself and said loudly to the other girls, "Look at that Elanor Gamgee. She thinks she is better than the rest of us, just because her gaffer is the mayor." The other lasses snickered appreciatively. I gave them no reply, except to put my nose further into the air. My lack of response did not go unnoticed by Margaret, and she raised her voice. "Her father only got to be the mayor because he is friends with the Thain. He is really just a stupid, fat hobbit."
I whirled around, suddenly seeing red. "Don't say such things about my father!" I cried starting towards Margaret.
Essie grabbed my arm. "Please, Elanor, ignore her. Don't fight with her." I roughly shook off her hand and she fell back, watching me nervously.
Margaret smirked at me, standing up and brushing off her skirts primly. "It is only the truth, Elanor."
"You take it back!"
"I will not." Another smirk.
This was all too much for me, and I launched myself at her. She let out a shriek. What followed was not much of a proper fight. I only got a few good punches in, but then she did not get any. She only flailed her hands around and cried out for her friends to help her. Essie stood off to one side, yelling for me to stop before I got into trouble.
Her warnings did me no good. In a few moments the hobbits in the nearby holes had pulled us apart. I immediately felt ashamed of myself, and the many reprimands I received for my actions were not necessary. When told to return home, I replied meekly that I had to deliver a letter to the post office. One of the hobbits took the letter from me, promising that he would deliver it for me.
I walked home, feeling extremely downhearted as I waved goodbye to Essie as we passed her house. I was left to face my father alone.
Thankfully, he was more disappointed with me than he was angry. He looked down at me with solemn eyes, and asked me why I had fought with another hobbit-lass.
"Because she said mean things about you, Sam-dad!" I cried, remembering what Margaret had said. "I could not let her say that!"
My father sighed, and seemed very sad. "I don't want you fighting with other children, Ellie, not even for me. Do you understand?" He held me gently by the shoulders.
I frowned, not understanding. "But. if someone says something bad about you."
"No, Elanor. You shouldn't fight because someone does something mean. So long as she's not hurting anyone, you mustn't take her bait. When you do, you're stooping to her level." He raised his eyebrows, and his normally cheerful round face was full of seriousness. I nodded, although I was not sure I completely understood what he was saying. It made more sense, in my mind, to teach anyone who insulted my father a lesson. But I knew my father knew much more than I did, and I did not want to disappoint him further. In any case, this conversation only proved to me that Margaret was very, very wrong in saying that my father was stupid. He was by far the smartest hobbit I knew.
Another Disclaimer: I don't own the "stupid, fat hobbit" line either. That belongs to Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, Phillipa Boyens, and Stephen Sinclair (whoever the heck he is). I just couldn't resist putting it in. *grins*