Frodoll Journal, Part 18
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com aka RosieCotton
Disclaimers: This tale is true. I make no money from this story and I own no trademarked names or characters.
~*~*~*~* Part 18 ~*~*~*~*
As you may know, Rosie regularly takes me with her to her Work, which is an institution for educating children of her world. I do not accompany her every day, as I did in the beginning, but do so at least once per week, as she enjoys my company and School is a fascinating place for a hobbit to explore.
Not many weeks ago, I accompanied Rosie to Work on a Thursday, and it was an unusually busy day for her. She was running to and fro with an anxious expression for most of the day, so she may perhaps be forgiven for what happened.
Around midafternoon, I realized that Rosie had been gone from the room for an unusually long period of time. She goes in and out periodically throughout the day, but it was nigh unto an hour since I had seen her. I stopped my work (I was cutting and measuring string for her at the time) and listened for a moment. It was unusually quiet, highly unusual for School, so I tiptoed to the door and put my ear to the crack beneath it.
Not a sound could be heard, except one set of footsteps coming closer. Unsure if it was Rosie, I flattened myself next to a large metallic box and waited. After a few moments one of the lasses who cleans the school entered the room. She propped open the door with a cart and went about cleaning the room. I am used to this, and remained very still until she finished. When she left, she took her cart with her, shut off the lights, and closed the door behind her.
I stood for several minutes, listening to my heartbeat in the dim light, and straining to hear the voices of children, or the other noises I am accustomed to hearing at Rosie's Work. I could hear nothing other than the occasional footsteps of the cleaning lasses, and soon these faded away completely.
I should perhaps explain that Rosie's Room does not have any windows facing to the outdoors. This is a very somber thing, but she has no power to change the situation. What she does have are high windows that let in light from the hallways on one side and from the Cafeteria (a type of Dining Hall) on another. As I stood there near the door, with my back pressed to cool metal, the light from these windows was rapidly growing dim. I began to fear that Rosie had gone home, altogether forgetting to take me with her.
Before continuing my story, I must assure you that Rosie was horrified to discover that she had left me at School. She told me later that she arrived home and immediately realized her mistake. She was deeply worried, and would have returned to fetch me, had her presence not been urgently required elsewhere that evening. She slept little that night, came to Work early on Friday, and finding me safe, proceeded to hug and kiss me until I was able to convince her that I was quite alright. It took Rosie several days to forgive herself, but in truth I had quite an exciting adventure, which I shall tell you all about. However, I must first rest for a short time. Typing with the eraser end of a pencil is very wearisome.
~TBC~
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com aka RosieCotton
Disclaimers: This tale is true. I make no money from this story and I own no trademarked names or characters.
~*~*~*~* Part 18 ~*~*~*~*
As you may know, Rosie regularly takes me with her to her Work, which is an institution for educating children of her world. I do not accompany her every day, as I did in the beginning, but do so at least once per week, as she enjoys my company and School is a fascinating place for a hobbit to explore.
Not many weeks ago, I accompanied Rosie to Work on a Thursday, and it was an unusually busy day for her. She was running to and fro with an anxious expression for most of the day, so she may perhaps be forgiven for what happened.
Around midafternoon, I realized that Rosie had been gone from the room for an unusually long period of time. She goes in and out periodically throughout the day, but it was nigh unto an hour since I had seen her. I stopped my work (I was cutting and measuring string for her at the time) and listened for a moment. It was unusually quiet, highly unusual for School, so I tiptoed to the door and put my ear to the crack beneath it.
Not a sound could be heard, except one set of footsteps coming closer. Unsure if it was Rosie, I flattened myself next to a large metallic box and waited. After a few moments one of the lasses who cleans the school entered the room. She propped open the door with a cart and went about cleaning the room. I am used to this, and remained very still until she finished. When she left, she took her cart with her, shut off the lights, and closed the door behind her.
I stood for several minutes, listening to my heartbeat in the dim light, and straining to hear the voices of children, or the other noises I am accustomed to hearing at Rosie's Work. I could hear nothing other than the occasional footsteps of the cleaning lasses, and soon these faded away completely.
I should perhaps explain that Rosie's Room does not have any windows facing to the outdoors. This is a very somber thing, but she has no power to change the situation. What she does have are high windows that let in light from the hallways on one side and from the Cafeteria (a type of Dining Hall) on another. As I stood there near the door, with my back pressed to cool metal, the light from these windows was rapidly growing dim. I began to fear that Rosie had gone home, altogether forgetting to take me with her.
Before continuing my story, I must assure you that Rosie was horrified to discover that she had left me at School. She told me later that she arrived home and immediately realized her mistake. She was deeply worried, and would have returned to fetch me, had her presence not been urgently required elsewhere that evening. She slept little that night, came to Work early on Friday, and finding me safe, proceeded to hug and kiss me until I was able to convince her that I was quite alright. It took Rosie several days to forgive herself, but in truth I had quite an exciting adventure, which I shall tell you all about. However, I must first rest for a short time. Typing with the eraser end of a pencil is very wearisome.
~TBC~