Aelfgifu - Thank you for easing my mind as to how well Merry was doing in
teaching Frodo to swim. I haven't had swimming lessons in years, but I was
drawing on my own memories.
Aratlithiel - If you want to kick Bargo and Reginard's backsides, you're probably not alone. They are definitely deserving, aren't they? And yes, Frodo has a backbone. He might not realize it yet, but he sure does!
Daisy Brambleburr - Thanks for joining us! I hope you enjoy the story! There are good and evil folk among all races, and unfortunately for Frodo, hobbits have their nasty sides as well - at least in this fic! And yes, that comment they made about Frodo's parents was awful.
LotrSeer3350 - It seemed somehow natural to me also to have Frodo be frightened about the river after what happened to his parents. In this fic, I've got Merry being about 3 years younger than Frodo. That way, they are close in age, but separated by enough time that their perspectives might differ to some degree.
FrodoBaggins1982 - Bargo and Reg are going to have to cook up other ways to pick on poor Frodo now, aren't they? Unfortunately, their imaginations regarding that subject are quite vivid!
Shirebound - I might have sneaked chapter 2 in there when you weren't looking. I have a habit of doing things like that! Merry teaches Frodo with a patience born of love and friendship. He will continue to be there for his cousin.
Endymion - LOL! Good question about the term "to pull 'bodily' from the water". Is there really any other way to do it? A strange expression, when you try to puzzle it out word by word.
QTPie 2488 - I was also afraid to put my face in the water when I was learning to swim. Like you, I love the water now. Swimming completely underwater and skimming along the bottom is my favorite! Merry and Frodo are back, and Bilbo too!
Chapter 4 - Kindred Spirits
~*~Bag End, Hobbiton, present time~*~
Sam looked at Merry incredulously. "Those monsters! How could they do that to Mr. Frodo, after all he'd been through?" The look on Sam's face spoke volumes, and Merry could see shock, anger and empathy written there.
"They weren't the sort to care much about what Frodo had been through," Merry answered solemnly. "Not ever." The way Merry said those two words sent a chill down Sam's spine for some reason. Was there more to tell? How much more?
"You mean it didn't end there?" Sam said, almost fearing the answer. "They didn't stop did they?"
"No, Sam. They didn't." Merry contemplated the pattern on the rug as he continued to speak, the memories vivid in his mind. "A few years later, when Frodo was about sixteen - "
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland 1384~*~
"And that is why trolls cannot stand the light of day," Bilbo finished, his eyes twinkling merrily. Frodo wasn't sure whether he had just heard the honest truth or the tallest of tales, but he was laughing so hard he didn't care one way or the other. The library was deserted except for the two of them, and Frodo was glad. It wasn't very often that Bilbo came to visit, and when he did they didn't always find time to talk without everyone else hovering about.
"Uncle Bilbo, is that a true story, or are you just teasing me?" Frodo asked, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. It had been a long time since he had laughed that hard. Frodo and Bilbo had a true bond that had formed easily and early on. Although Bilbo was in truth Frodo's cousin, Frodo had always called him Uncle. It made sense, considering most of the older hobbits around Frodo were indeed aunts and uncles.
"It's all true, I promise you, lad," Bilbo said with the utmost seriousness. He waggled the stem of his pipe in Frodo's direction and adopted a suddenly stern tone. "I've heard a few new tales lately, my boy. Tales of lively young lads getting up to some mischief, if you will." Bilbo was very much the authoritative elder as he spoke. "What's this I hear about you raiding the farmers' mushrooms? That doesn't sound like you, Frodo."
The laughter was gone and the light in Frodo's eyes dimmed noticeably at those words. How could Bilbo just turn the subject so quickly and catch him off guard like that? Frodo shuffled his feet nervously. "It's not as bad as it sounds, Uncle," he said softly, not meeting Bilbo's gaze.
"Well how bad is it then? You cannot fool me, Frodo." Bilbo quirked an eyebrow at the youngster before him. "You and I are kindred spirits, and I don't have to spend a lot of time around you to know when something isn't quite right."
"I didn't want to - that is, I didn't mean any harm by it," Frodo stammered uncertainly. There was something about Bilbo's eyes boring into him that made it impossible for him to prevaricate.
"Do not tell me what I want to hear, tell me what you really mean." Bilbo leaned forward locking his gaze with Frodo's. "You started to say you didn't want to do it." He held up a hand as Frodo started to protest. "If you didn't want to, why did you do it, lad?"
There was no getting out of this. Frodo fervently hoped he could count on Bilbo to keep this conversation strictly between them. The consequences of others becoming involved could be less than desirable. "I did it because I would have been thrashed for certain otherwise. They gave me a choice. I could do it for them and maybe get away with it, or I could refuse and they would thrash me. Now do you see why?"
Bilbo sat back in the armchair again and sighed heavily. "You're still having trouble with those lads, then, Frodo?" He shook his head. "I had hoped it would have stopped after the river incident. What of Saradoc? Does he know about any of this?"
"You won't tell Sara and Esmie, will you?" Frodo pleaded. "If they get involved, a reprisal is all but guaranteed." It wasn't that the Master of the Hall didn't care about what was happening to Frodo. He was just so busy with so many important things. Frodo felt that his problem with Bargo and Reginard would only be a nuisance to Sara and Esmie if he brought it up. Besides, the two older boys would just say Frodo had ratted on them, and would attack him even more viciously than before.
Frodo turned away for a moment and traced a finger lightly over the bindings of the books that lined the mahogany shelf nearby. Nobody seemed to understand, except maybe Merry. Anger began to build inside him as he stared at the mute volumes before him. A moment later he whirled back around, his hands clenching into fists in frustration. "I try to avoid them, Uncle. Most of the time I do, but if they're determined to find me, they will. This isn't something you can help with."
Bilbo rose and approached the agitated youth, placing his hands on Frodo's shoulders in a caring manner. "Frodo, I understand how you must feel. If these lads are as prone to vicious behavior as you say, perhaps they shouldn't be learning a trade at the Hall. If they cannot behave themselves accordingly, they should be sent back to their families." The look on Frodo's face caused him to pause for a moment.
He drew Frodo into an embrace and continued. "I will respect your wishes, Frodo, if you demand it, but it flies in the face of my better judgment." He sighed again. "Will you at least think about what I have said, lad?"
Frodo pulled back and nodded. "I promise I will," he said softly. He certainly wanted his trouble with the bullies to end, but he truly did fear speaking out regarding the issue. Besides, he told himself, since the river there had been few incidents, none of them going beyond taunting. The mushroom fiasco was the first serious scrape he'd been in with those two for some time.
Bilbo found himself wondering again if Brandy Hall was the kind of place that was appropriate for a lad like Frodo. When his parents had died, Frodo hadn't the luxury of a quiet place to deal with his grief without an ever - present crowd of relatives nearby. Bilbo was certain that much of the grief from that time remained in Frodo's heart, unable to find proper release amid the distraction of the bustling Hall.
"Enough of this serious talk now, my lad." Bilbo said, trying to lighten the mood. "There will be plenty of time for you to sit inside and swap tales with an old hobbit." He gave Frodo a loving pat on the back. "Off with you now."
Frodo gave him a relieved smile as he left the library, and wandered down the hallway. Maybe there was time before sunset for a quick walk and some fresh air.
Bilbo sat in silence, chewing absently on the stem of his pipe as Frodo departed. That boy was trying to shoulder much too heavy a burden on his own. Bilbo had been deeply disturbed by that business with the river, and was more disturbed still to find the trouble continuing.
He understood Frodo's desire to deal with the problem without adult intervention, but he didn't see how that would be possible. Sooner or later, those boys would step too far over the line and something would have to be done. He only hoped that Frodo was not underestimating the danger he might be facing.
Bilbo made a decision. While he respected Frodo's wishes and the reasons for them, he was determined to intervene if matters did not improve. If anyone could convince Frodo to speak out, Bilbo was confident that he could.
~*~
Frodo squinted as the last rays of daylight angled down into his eyes. He wandered rather aimlessly, just breathing the fresh, warm evening air and trying to forget his anxiety over his talk with Bilbo. What if Bilbo decided to mention their conversation to Saradoc? He had promised to honor Frodo's request not to raise the issue, but what if the Master of the Hall had noticed something amiss and prodded him?
Frodo stopped as he reached the barn, sinking down to sit with his back against the weather - beaten wood. He leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sounds of a pleasant summer evening soothe him. A quiet sound and the feeling of something soft brushing against his leg caused him to open his eyes.
The cat purred and wound in and out around his feet, as he sat with his knees bent. She had given birth to a litter of kittens recently, and Frodo stood to follow her into the barn. He hadn't seen them for the last two weeks and he was curious as to how they were getting on.
He eased the barn door open and stepped inside, letting the fading sunlight pierce the shadows. Over in the corner behind some crates, he found the little nest the mother cat had made, and the five kittens nestled inside. Their little ears were no longer folded back against their heads and their eyes were open, regarding him curiously.
As the mother cat purred and pranced, Frodo picked up one of the kittens gently, delighting in the softness of its fur and the tiny voice that mewed at him. "Hello, there." He stroked the kitten's fur lightly. "You've gotten bigger, haven't you?" The kitten nibbled on his thumb with its sharp little teeth, and Frodo disengaged it with care. As he placed the tiny creature back among its siblings, he heard voices coming nearer.
"That cracked old Bilbo sure seems to like him," Bargo said sarcastically. "It would figure they'd get along. They're both not quite right, if you ask me."
"You've got that straight," Reginard replied with a snort. "Elves, Dwarves, Wizards and skinny little orphans." Frodo could imagine the nasty smirk on Reginard's face. "Not the kind of company any self - respecting hobbit keeps."
Frodo's face reddened at the remark. They were fine people to talk about Bilbo! A new realization struck him and chased the angry thoughts away. They were coming closer! He mustn't let them corner him in the barn! He looked around him hurriedly. He couldn't leave, or they would see him. The loft was the only place to hide, and he climbed the tall ladder as quickly as he could.
As the door began to creak open below him, Frodo ducked into the hay and lay still, hardly daring to breathe. They were underneath him now, their voices rising loudly in the confined space.
"I could swear I saw the little rat wanderin' round a bit ago," Bargo said as he looked around. "Been a while since we had any fun with him, hasn't it, Reg?"
"I reckon we owe him some attention for not completing our mushroom run for us," Reginard answered with a smirk.
"Didn't he go like we said? I thought I heard somethin' about Farmer Maggot catching him red - handed and all but makin' dog food of him." Bargo's voice rose up clearly and Frodo tried to make himself even smaller in the pile of hay above.
"Oh he went, all right," Reginard replied. "But he failed. We still didn't get any mushrooms, did we Bargo?"
"No, Reg. That we didn't," Bargo replied and the two stood laughing. Bargo paused. "This door shouldn't be open this late should it?"
In the loft above, Frodo felt something tickle his foot and flinched involuntarily as a mouse ran across his toes. His eyes widened as he realized his unplanned motion had sent wisps of hay falling to the dirt floor below.
Reginard grinned and pointed up at the loft. Neither spoke as they placed their hands on the tall, sturdy ladder that led up into the space above. Reginard went first, placing one foot and then another on the ladder's rungs, climbing quietly upward with Bargo at his heels.
Frodo had burrowed in as far as he could, concealing himself in the itchy hay. It tickled his nose and chafed at his back through his shirt, and he gritted his teeth against the urge to scratch. He held his breath as the loft floor creaked under the additional weight of the other two young hobbits.
Bargo nudged Reginard and pointed at the pile of hay. Suddenly and as one, they reached in and grasped Frodo, yanking him from his hiding place. "Lookit that! We got rats in the barn, Bargo," Reginard crowed as Frodo shook hay from his hair and tried to break out of the older lad's grip.
"What do you suppose we oughta do with him, Reg?" Bargo grinned savagely at Frodo, digging his fingernails into the younger lad's arm. Frodo winced at the pain.
"Well, we know he can swim," Reginard said slowly, turning his gaze to Frodo. "Maybe he can fly too." They dragged him, struggling, to the loft's edge.
"How about it, Frodo? If you can swim like a fish, can you fly like a bird?" Reginard whispered in his ear as he and Bargo forced Frodo to the very edge of the high loft.
Frodo squeezed his eyes shut against the wave of dizziness that assaulted him. If they pushed him from this height, he would surely be injured, and it would look like an accident. "Let go of me," he almost whispered, his voice lost to his fear.
"You don't like the view, Frodo?" Bargo sneered at him. "Maybe you'd like it better over there!" Bargo gave Frodo a shove back toward the barn wall, and Frodo slammed into it hard. He had no time to recover before they were on him, pummeling him viciously. Blows landed on every part of his body as fists punched him and feet kicked him. He sank to the floor and covered his head with both arms, trying to protect himself. An agonized cry escaped him as Reginard grabbed him by the hair and slapped him hard across the face.
"You're pathetic, Baggins!" Reginard growled, still holding on to him. "You're worthless and unwanted, and your only friends are that stupid Brandybuck and that cracked old fool from Hobbiton." Reginard dropped him with a disdainful laugh. "Come on, Bargo. Let's go."
They climbed down the ladder. Once they had reached the dirt floor of the barn, they removed the ladder and laid it flat on the ground, leaving their victim no escape from the loft above.
Frodo lay still and tried to catch his breath. His face burned where Reginard had slapped him, and he ached everywhere the fists and feet had touched him. They had thrashed on him before, but never so brutally. Frodo moved slowly and deliberately to the edge of the hayloft and looked down in despair at the ladder, now lying useless upon the floor.
He was alone and trapped, high up in the hayloft as night fell. Reginard's words stuck in his heart like knives. Worthless. Unwanted. Was it true? Did anyone at the Hall truly want him there? At least Merry did. And Bilbo cared for him, but Bilbo didn't live at Brandy Hall. He was far away in Hobbiton and only came to visit from time to time. Feeling wretched and forsaken, Frodo lay down in the hay and wept.
~*~To be continued~*~
Aratlithiel - If you want to kick Bargo and Reginard's backsides, you're probably not alone. They are definitely deserving, aren't they? And yes, Frodo has a backbone. He might not realize it yet, but he sure does!
Daisy Brambleburr - Thanks for joining us! I hope you enjoy the story! There are good and evil folk among all races, and unfortunately for Frodo, hobbits have their nasty sides as well - at least in this fic! And yes, that comment they made about Frodo's parents was awful.
LotrSeer3350 - It seemed somehow natural to me also to have Frodo be frightened about the river after what happened to his parents. In this fic, I've got Merry being about 3 years younger than Frodo. That way, they are close in age, but separated by enough time that their perspectives might differ to some degree.
FrodoBaggins1982 - Bargo and Reg are going to have to cook up other ways to pick on poor Frodo now, aren't they? Unfortunately, their imaginations regarding that subject are quite vivid!
Shirebound - I might have sneaked chapter 2 in there when you weren't looking. I have a habit of doing things like that! Merry teaches Frodo with a patience born of love and friendship. He will continue to be there for his cousin.
Endymion - LOL! Good question about the term "to pull 'bodily' from the water". Is there really any other way to do it? A strange expression, when you try to puzzle it out word by word.
QTPie 2488 - I was also afraid to put my face in the water when I was learning to swim. Like you, I love the water now. Swimming completely underwater and skimming along the bottom is my favorite! Merry and Frodo are back, and Bilbo too!
Chapter 4 - Kindred Spirits
~*~Bag End, Hobbiton, present time~*~
Sam looked at Merry incredulously. "Those monsters! How could they do that to Mr. Frodo, after all he'd been through?" The look on Sam's face spoke volumes, and Merry could see shock, anger and empathy written there.
"They weren't the sort to care much about what Frodo had been through," Merry answered solemnly. "Not ever." The way Merry said those two words sent a chill down Sam's spine for some reason. Was there more to tell? How much more?
"You mean it didn't end there?" Sam said, almost fearing the answer. "They didn't stop did they?"
"No, Sam. They didn't." Merry contemplated the pattern on the rug as he continued to speak, the memories vivid in his mind. "A few years later, when Frodo was about sixteen - "
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland 1384~*~
"And that is why trolls cannot stand the light of day," Bilbo finished, his eyes twinkling merrily. Frodo wasn't sure whether he had just heard the honest truth or the tallest of tales, but he was laughing so hard he didn't care one way or the other. The library was deserted except for the two of them, and Frodo was glad. It wasn't very often that Bilbo came to visit, and when he did they didn't always find time to talk without everyone else hovering about.
"Uncle Bilbo, is that a true story, or are you just teasing me?" Frodo asked, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. It had been a long time since he had laughed that hard. Frodo and Bilbo had a true bond that had formed easily and early on. Although Bilbo was in truth Frodo's cousin, Frodo had always called him Uncle. It made sense, considering most of the older hobbits around Frodo were indeed aunts and uncles.
"It's all true, I promise you, lad," Bilbo said with the utmost seriousness. He waggled the stem of his pipe in Frodo's direction and adopted a suddenly stern tone. "I've heard a few new tales lately, my boy. Tales of lively young lads getting up to some mischief, if you will." Bilbo was very much the authoritative elder as he spoke. "What's this I hear about you raiding the farmers' mushrooms? That doesn't sound like you, Frodo."
The laughter was gone and the light in Frodo's eyes dimmed noticeably at those words. How could Bilbo just turn the subject so quickly and catch him off guard like that? Frodo shuffled his feet nervously. "It's not as bad as it sounds, Uncle," he said softly, not meeting Bilbo's gaze.
"Well how bad is it then? You cannot fool me, Frodo." Bilbo quirked an eyebrow at the youngster before him. "You and I are kindred spirits, and I don't have to spend a lot of time around you to know when something isn't quite right."
"I didn't want to - that is, I didn't mean any harm by it," Frodo stammered uncertainly. There was something about Bilbo's eyes boring into him that made it impossible for him to prevaricate.
"Do not tell me what I want to hear, tell me what you really mean." Bilbo leaned forward locking his gaze with Frodo's. "You started to say you didn't want to do it." He held up a hand as Frodo started to protest. "If you didn't want to, why did you do it, lad?"
There was no getting out of this. Frodo fervently hoped he could count on Bilbo to keep this conversation strictly between them. The consequences of others becoming involved could be less than desirable. "I did it because I would have been thrashed for certain otherwise. They gave me a choice. I could do it for them and maybe get away with it, or I could refuse and they would thrash me. Now do you see why?"
Bilbo sat back in the armchair again and sighed heavily. "You're still having trouble with those lads, then, Frodo?" He shook his head. "I had hoped it would have stopped after the river incident. What of Saradoc? Does he know about any of this?"
"You won't tell Sara and Esmie, will you?" Frodo pleaded. "If they get involved, a reprisal is all but guaranteed." It wasn't that the Master of the Hall didn't care about what was happening to Frodo. He was just so busy with so many important things. Frodo felt that his problem with Bargo and Reginard would only be a nuisance to Sara and Esmie if he brought it up. Besides, the two older boys would just say Frodo had ratted on them, and would attack him even more viciously than before.
Frodo turned away for a moment and traced a finger lightly over the bindings of the books that lined the mahogany shelf nearby. Nobody seemed to understand, except maybe Merry. Anger began to build inside him as he stared at the mute volumes before him. A moment later he whirled back around, his hands clenching into fists in frustration. "I try to avoid them, Uncle. Most of the time I do, but if they're determined to find me, they will. This isn't something you can help with."
Bilbo rose and approached the agitated youth, placing his hands on Frodo's shoulders in a caring manner. "Frodo, I understand how you must feel. If these lads are as prone to vicious behavior as you say, perhaps they shouldn't be learning a trade at the Hall. If they cannot behave themselves accordingly, they should be sent back to their families." The look on Frodo's face caused him to pause for a moment.
He drew Frodo into an embrace and continued. "I will respect your wishes, Frodo, if you demand it, but it flies in the face of my better judgment." He sighed again. "Will you at least think about what I have said, lad?"
Frodo pulled back and nodded. "I promise I will," he said softly. He certainly wanted his trouble with the bullies to end, but he truly did fear speaking out regarding the issue. Besides, he told himself, since the river there had been few incidents, none of them going beyond taunting. The mushroom fiasco was the first serious scrape he'd been in with those two for some time.
Bilbo found himself wondering again if Brandy Hall was the kind of place that was appropriate for a lad like Frodo. When his parents had died, Frodo hadn't the luxury of a quiet place to deal with his grief without an ever - present crowd of relatives nearby. Bilbo was certain that much of the grief from that time remained in Frodo's heart, unable to find proper release amid the distraction of the bustling Hall.
"Enough of this serious talk now, my lad." Bilbo said, trying to lighten the mood. "There will be plenty of time for you to sit inside and swap tales with an old hobbit." He gave Frodo a loving pat on the back. "Off with you now."
Frodo gave him a relieved smile as he left the library, and wandered down the hallway. Maybe there was time before sunset for a quick walk and some fresh air.
Bilbo sat in silence, chewing absently on the stem of his pipe as Frodo departed. That boy was trying to shoulder much too heavy a burden on his own. Bilbo had been deeply disturbed by that business with the river, and was more disturbed still to find the trouble continuing.
He understood Frodo's desire to deal with the problem without adult intervention, but he didn't see how that would be possible. Sooner or later, those boys would step too far over the line and something would have to be done. He only hoped that Frodo was not underestimating the danger he might be facing.
Bilbo made a decision. While he respected Frodo's wishes and the reasons for them, he was determined to intervene if matters did not improve. If anyone could convince Frodo to speak out, Bilbo was confident that he could.
~*~
Frodo squinted as the last rays of daylight angled down into his eyes. He wandered rather aimlessly, just breathing the fresh, warm evening air and trying to forget his anxiety over his talk with Bilbo. What if Bilbo decided to mention their conversation to Saradoc? He had promised to honor Frodo's request not to raise the issue, but what if the Master of the Hall had noticed something amiss and prodded him?
Frodo stopped as he reached the barn, sinking down to sit with his back against the weather - beaten wood. He leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sounds of a pleasant summer evening soothe him. A quiet sound and the feeling of something soft brushing against his leg caused him to open his eyes.
The cat purred and wound in and out around his feet, as he sat with his knees bent. She had given birth to a litter of kittens recently, and Frodo stood to follow her into the barn. He hadn't seen them for the last two weeks and he was curious as to how they were getting on.
He eased the barn door open and stepped inside, letting the fading sunlight pierce the shadows. Over in the corner behind some crates, he found the little nest the mother cat had made, and the five kittens nestled inside. Their little ears were no longer folded back against their heads and their eyes were open, regarding him curiously.
As the mother cat purred and pranced, Frodo picked up one of the kittens gently, delighting in the softness of its fur and the tiny voice that mewed at him. "Hello, there." He stroked the kitten's fur lightly. "You've gotten bigger, haven't you?" The kitten nibbled on his thumb with its sharp little teeth, and Frodo disengaged it with care. As he placed the tiny creature back among its siblings, he heard voices coming nearer.
"That cracked old Bilbo sure seems to like him," Bargo said sarcastically. "It would figure they'd get along. They're both not quite right, if you ask me."
"You've got that straight," Reginard replied with a snort. "Elves, Dwarves, Wizards and skinny little orphans." Frodo could imagine the nasty smirk on Reginard's face. "Not the kind of company any self - respecting hobbit keeps."
Frodo's face reddened at the remark. They were fine people to talk about Bilbo! A new realization struck him and chased the angry thoughts away. They were coming closer! He mustn't let them corner him in the barn! He looked around him hurriedly. He couldn't leave, or they would see him. The loft was the only place to hide, and he climbed the tall ladder as quickly as he could.
As the door began to creak open below him, Frodo ducked into the hay and lay still, hardly daring to breathe. They were underneath him now, their voices rising loudly in the confined space.
"I could swear I saw the little rat wanderin' round a bit ago," Bargo said as he looked around. "Been a while since we had any fun with him, hasn't it, Reg?"
"I reckon we owe him some attention for not completing our mushroom run for us," Reginard answered with a smirk.
"Didn't he go like we said? I thought I heard somethin' about Farmer Maggot catching him red - handed and all but makin' dog food of him." Bargo's voice rose up clearly and Frodo tried to make himself even smaller in the pile of hay above.
"Oh he went, all right," Reginard replied. "But he failed. We still didn't get any mushrooms, did we Bargo?"
"No, Reg. That we didn't," Bargo replied and the two stood laughing. Bargo paused. "This door shouldn't be open this late should it?"
In the loft above, Frodo felt something tickle his foot and flinched involuntarily as a mouse ran across his toes. His eyes widened as he realized his unplanned motion had sent wisps of hay falling to the dirt floor below.
Reginard grinned and pointed up at the loft. Neither spoke as they placed their hands on the tall, sturdy ladder that led up into the space above. Reginard went first, placing one foot and then another on the ladder's rungs, climbing quietly upward with Bargo at his heels.
Frodo had burrowed in as far as he could, concealing himself in the itchy hay. It tickled his nose and chafed at his back through his shirt, and he gritted his teeth against the urge to scratch. He held his breath as the loft floor creaked under the additional weight of the other two young hobbits.
Bargo nudged Reginard and pointed at the pile of hay. Suddenly and as one, they reached in and grasped Frodo, yanking him from his hiding place. "Lookit that! We got rats in the barn, Bargo," Reginard crowed as Frodo shook hay from his hair and tried to break out of the older lad's grip.
"What do you suppose we oughta do with him, Reg?" Bargo grinned savagely at Frodo, digging his fingernails into the younger lad's arm. Frodo winced at the pain.
"Well, we know he can swim," Reginard said slowly, turning his gaze to Frodo. "Maybe he can fly too." They dragged him, struggling, to the loft's edge.
"How about it, Frodo? If you can swim like a fish, can you fly like a bird?" Reginard whispered in his ear as he and Bargo forced Frodo to the very edge of the high loft.
Frodo squeezed his eyes shut against the wave of dizziness that assaulted him. If they pushed him from this height, he would surely be injured, and it would look like an accident. "Let go of me," he almost whispered, his voice lost to his fear.
"You don't like the view, Frodo?" Bargo sneered at him. "Maybe you'd like it better over there!" Bargo gave Frodo a shove back toward the barn wall, and Frodo slammed into it hard. He had no time to recover before they were on him, pummeling him viciously. Blows landed on every part of his body as fists punched him and feet kicked him. He sank to the floor and covered his head with both arms, trying to protect himself. An agonized cry escaped him as Reginard grabbed him by the hair and slapped him hard across the face.
"You're pathetic, Baggins!" Reginard growled, still holding on to him. "You're worthless and unwanted, and your only friends are that stupid Brandybuck and that cracked old fool from Hobbiton." Reginard dropped him with a disdainful laugh. "Come on, Bargo. Let's go."
They climbed down the ladder. Once they had reached the dirt floor of the barn, they removed the ladder and laid it flat on the ground, leaving their victim no escape from the loft above.
Frodo lay still and tried to catch his breath. His face burned where Reginard had slapped him, and he ached everywhere the fists and feet had touched him. They had thrashed on him before, but never so brutally. Frodo moved slowly and deliberately to the edge of the hayloft and looked down in despair at the ladder, now lying useless upon the floor.
He was alone and trapped, high up in the hayloft as night fell. Reginard's words stuck in his heart like knives. Worthless. Unwanted. Was it true? Did anyone at the Hall truly want him there? At least Merry did. And Bilbo cared for him, but Bilbo didn't live at Brandy Hall. He was far away in Hobbiton and only came to visit from time to time. Feeling wretched and forsaken, Frodo lay down in the hay and wept.
~*~To be continued~*~