Everyone -
FrodoBaggins1982 - I know, it's hard not to just run over and hug poor Frodo, isn't it? Bilbo is about to get a little closer to a decision about him.
Endymion - Yes, those boys are starting to really get mean, aren't they? Hobbits with an attitude!
Aelfgifu - Thanks for your compliments on how Bilbo is portrayed. He's not going to be a doddering old goof in this fic, I promise!
Camellia Gamgee - Took - Yes, poor Frodo! And I'm afraid there's more in store for him yet.
Krista - Good to have you with us! I like stories of the hobbits' youth and childhood years too. This one will have a few twists in it. Let's just say Frodo's in for perhaps a little more than he bargained for!
Shirebound - Such treatment of our dear Frodo cannot go unpunished, can it? We will deal with those bullies eventually. Until then, they are unfortunately still at it.
Aratlithiel - Thanks for hanging in there and reviewing even if the site didn't seem to want you to! Those rotten "weasels" are really asking for it, aren't they?
TTTurtle - I was hoping you would find us again! Stay tuned, because I'll be updating every other day or so. This is a long story and there's much more of it yet to tell. I too have been the shy, skinny new kid before, and so can also relate to how Frodo feels here. I think many of us probably can!
Daisy Brambleburr - Chapter 4 was sad for Frodo. Still, he endures, and Bilbo is backing him up as much as possible.
Trust No One - Thanks for joining us! Emma is Frodo Angst Queen, and I walk humbly behind her at a respectful - and safe distance, for she is the keeper of Evil Merry! More angst ahead!
QTPie - 2488 - Those bullies are plenty mean, and they're still at it.
Iorhael - You're right! Frodo is far from worthless. Bargo and Reginard are experts at hurting his feelings, though.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 5 - Silence is Broken
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland, morning~*~
Morning sun illuminated the inside of the barn as Bilbo and Merry opened the doors. When Frodo hadn't appeared at breakfast and his room had proven deserted, they had gone walking and calling for him.
Bilbo had suspected that Frodo had gone out early and neglected to inform anyone of his whereabouts, until Merry had pulled him aside and voiced his fears that something was wrong. Frodo always told someone where he was going, Merry had explained. Merry also feared the worst when he saw Reginard and Bargo smirking and laughing together. They never laughed like that unless they were proud of themselves for something.
"Look, Uncle Bilbo!" Merry pointed at the downed ladder. It took both of them to lift it and lean it back against the edge of the hayloft. Bilbo gestured to Merry to remain on the ground, and he began to climb slowly.
As he peered around in the loft, Bilbo spied a pile of hay to one side, and he saw a tangle of brown curls sticking up out of another nearby hay mound. "Frodo!" he called as he climbed the rest of the way into the loft. He knelt beside the sleeping youngster and spoke his name again, shaking him lightly. "Frodo, wake up, lad!"
Frodo slowly opened his reddened, puffy eyes and met Bilbo's concerned gaze. Bilbo fought to conceal his anger when he saw the slight discoloration on Frodo's cheek and the swelling that had begun around his eye. "Frodo, Eru's graces, lad!" Bilbo fought to keep his voice steady. He didn't want his own voice to cause Frodo additional distress. "We missed you this morning." He brushed Frodo's hair back out of his eyes and continued in his kindest tone, "Tell me what happened, my boy."
The obvious love and concern in Bilbo's voice and the gentleness of his touch undid Frodo completely and he fell into the older hobbit's arms, sobbing miserably. Merry's head popped up at the edge of the loft, and the younger lad crawled through the hay to his cousin's side.
When he was steady enough to speak, Frodo let the whole story out in the open, including the awful words that were so hard to forget. "He called me worthless and unwanted, Uncle," Frodo whispered. "He's right, isn't he? Nobody wants me here, do they?"
"I do, Frodo." Merry hugged his cousin tightly. "You can't listen to them. They don't know their arses from - "
"Enough, Meriadoc," Bilbo admonished gently. Merry was too young to use such language, precocious though he might be. To Frodo he said, "Merry is right, Frodo. You mustn't allow yourself to believe such things, especially when they are said by such ill - favored louts."
"I know you're right, Uncle, but it's so hard sometimes." Frodo rubbed at his eyes and continued. "Unless I've done something wrong, no one seems to know I'm even around. I sometimes think I could just disappear and no one would notice."
"Ssshhh. Don't talk like that, lad." Bilbo looked for something to say that would reassure the youngster, but nothing came to him. Instead, he just stayed there with Frodo and held him, at a loss for how else to help him.
~*~Brandy Hall, mid - afternoon~*~
"Frodo, I'm glad you've decided to speak about this with Saradoc," Bilbo said, his arm around Frodo's shoulder in a gesture of support. "Those boys must be stopped, and that's all there is to it." Frodo nodded sullenly. He looked down at the floor, wishing he could just disappear into the weave of the rug beneath his feet.
Bilbo rapped smartly on the door of the study, and the voice of the Master of the Hall responded. "Come in, come in." Saradoc was smiling until he saw the serious expressions on the faces of the two hobbits before him. "Frodo, Bilbo, please sit down and tell me what's on your minds."
Bilbo saw that Frodo was still struggling with his decision to speak, and he opened the conversation instead. "Sara, there is something you should know about those lads, Bargo and Reginard." Bilbo's tone was hard, and his eyes flashed angrily at the memory of Frodo in the hayloft. "Those lads have been picking on Frodo for some time now, and they are causing him harm. It must be stopped."
Saradoc steepled his fingers thoughtfully. "Is this true, Frodo? Why have you not come to me before this?"
There was no turning back now. Frodo raised his eyes to Saradoc's and stammered, "Yes, it's true, but - I mean - they've given me a hard time, it's certain." He looked at the floor again. "If they find out I told you, they'll thrash on me even more for it." There seemed to be no way out.
"Thrash you? Great stars, Frodo!" Saradoc leaned forward in the big leather chair and gently touched Frodo's arm. "They've been at you recently," he observed, examining the lad's face. Ice had brought the swelling down, but not enough to keep Saradoc from noticing.
"They've been at him, all right," Bilbo said, his tone icy. "They've beaten him, and imprisoned him in the hayloft overnight!" He rose to his feet and glared down into Saradoc's face. "This is intolerable, Saradoc. I shall take action myself if you are not so inclined!"
His mouth set in a grim line, Saradoc rose also, his gaze level with Bilbo's. He was the Master of Buckland, and was not about to be shouted down by an eccentric old wanderer like Bilbo Baggins. "You forget yourself, Bilbo," he said, warning implicit in his tone. "Please lower your voice. I can hear you well enough, rest assured."
"I shall lower my voice, but not my expectations," Bilbo shot back, as Frodo slumped miserably in his chair. "I expect these incidents to stop, Sara. Frodo does nothing to deserve such treatment, and I shall be damned if he shall have it."
Frodo shifted uncomfortably, as all other eyes in the room became fixed upon him. He would rather have been almost anywhere else than under the measuring gaze of the Master of the Hall, and the angry, but protective stare of Bilbo.
"Have they done this to you before, Frodo?" Saradoc asked, addressing the downcast youth directly.
Frodo wished he could muster a commanding tone like that of the elder hobbit beside him, but his voice came out in a stuttering whisper, and he was ashamed. "Not - Not this, exactly," he began, fighting down the impulse to bolt from the room. "Other things."
"What other things?" Saradoc asked, his brow creasing. "Tell me, Frodo."
Frodo took a deep breath and forced himself to meet Saradoc's gaze. "They tossed me in the river once, but Merry taught me to swim, so -" he stopped short, swallowing hard and then forcing himself to go on. "And they made me raid Farmer Maggot's mushroom beds for them. They just," he shrugged and cast his eyes downward again. "They just thrash on me sometimes."
"This ends here and now," Saradoc said firmly, lifting Frodo's chin in his palm. "Those boys will be punished for hurting you, Frodo. They will be cleaning the stables for the next fortnight, beginning at the first light of dawn every day. Let them think about that if they want to thrash you again. There is plenty of work to be done, and if they tend to use their idle time to bad ends, they shall have considerably less of it." He nodded curtly to Bilbo. "Such behavior will not go unpunished at Brandy Hall, and I expect I will hear if there are any further problems." He looked at Frodo meaningfully.
Frodo nodded silently. If he had been right, the damage was done and doom was to fall in the near future. If he was wrong, the attacks would stop and life would be at least bearable. Perhaps Bilbo was right and it had been necessary to say something about Bargo and Reginard, but all Frodo could feel was dread of the days to come.
~*~
"And therefore you will present yourselves to the stable master at first light every day for the next fortnight," Saradoc said, pacing before the two lads. "Tardiness for one day earns you another. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
There were murmurs of "Yes, Sir" and "Perfectly, Sir" from the two miscreants standing before the judge and jury that was Saradoc Brandybuck. Bargo and Reginard managed to look, if not genuinely contrite, at least somewhat rueful regarding their sentence.
"There shall be no more of this violent behavior against Frodo or any other in the Hall." Saradoc stopped pacing for a moment and regarded the boys sternly. "I trust I shall not have to mention this again."
"No, Sir." Reginard straightened his shoulders as he faced the Master of the Hall. Bargo echoed the sentiment as Saradoc's gaze brushed over him.
"Very well, you are dismissed. Tomorrow you will start with the South Stables." Saradoc opened the door of his study and ushered Bargo and Reginard into the hallway.
An unpleasant task, but necessary, Saradoc thought as he closed the door and stood alone in his study. Lads of that age would act up as a matter of course, he reasoned. Stern discipline must be applied and adhered to, and eventually Bargo and Reginard would mature beyond this rebellious stage of their lives.
~*~The South Stables, the following morning~*~
Bargo stopped shoveling and leaned against the wall of the stable. "What do you know about that, Reg. That little rat finally squeaked, and here we are, up to our arses in - "
"No, not us, Bargo," Reginard snarled angrily. "It's Baggins who's up to his arse in it now." His eyes held something vicious and vengeful. "If he thought he had it hard before, he's got another thing coming."
Bargo stopped sulking and stood up straighter, his eyes taking on an ugly gleam. "Right you are, Reg," he replied. "We owe him double now, I reckon." He grinned at the thought of imminent and terrible revenge, but the grin was swiftly replaced by a frown as Bargo took the extraordinary step of thinking about his situation. "But what can we do now? The Master is onto us, and if we lay a finger on that little bookworm, we'll get it sure as sunrise."
"I don't know, Bargo, but I'm going to get Frodo if it takes the rest of my life," Reginard said, slinging a shovel full of manure onto a pile in the corner. The idea of throwing a load of the same at Frodo Baggins made him smile. "We'll pay that little runt back, no question." He locked his gaze with that of his friend. "I swear it."
~*~Three weeks later~*~
Frodo felt the rough wood of the barn wall sticking in his back with tiny, splintery talons as Reginard held him against it. He sucked in a breath as he was nearly lifted off his feet by the fierce enemy before him.
"I'll tell you how it's going to be, Baggins," Reginard hissed. "You better grow eyes in the back of your skull, rat." A vicious sneer crossed the older boy's face. "There won't always be somebody lookin'. And if you tell - " Reginard slammed Frodo back against the barn wall again. "If you tell anyone, we will thrash you to within a hair's breadth of your worthless, stupid life!" He punctuated the statement by plucking one hair out of Frodo's scalp and twirling it under the younger lad's nose.
Frodo kicked Reginard in the shin as fury rose within him. "You wouldn't dare! You'll be sent away if you try it!" Reginard's grip loosened slightly as Frodo's foot connected with its target, but tightened again as the battle of wills played itself out in the lengthening afternoon shadows.
"Will we, Frodo? Maybe they'll get rid of you instead." Reginard glared down at Frodo. "They don't want you. They just take care of you because they have to. When your parents died, they said, 'Oh, Glory! Another mouth to feed.'" He leaned closer as he spoke his next words. "I hear they even asked why you weren't in that boat too. Bad luck, they figured."
Frodo had borne the assault bravely until that moment. He could have withstood any number of physical blows with more steadiness and aplomb than the cold words which now rang in his ears. "No! You're lying!" He shouted back at the sneering horror before him. "You're a filthy liar, and a snake - "
"Am I?" Reginard smiled nastily. "You'll never know, because they'll never say it where you'll hear them." He brought his lips close to Frodo's ear and whispered, "But I hear them, Frodo. I hear them every day, and they say you should have gone with your folks, to the bottom of the river."
"No - " Frodo protested, his voice finally breaking. "They wouldn't say that! They - "
"They wouldn't say that because they love you, Frodo?" Reginard's voice dripped with obscene sarcasm. "They don't love you. You're a nuisance to them. You're a burden." Reginard released his prey, and Frodo slipped sideways away from him and began backing away. Reginard began to laugh as Frodo stepped away from him unsteadily, stricken to his soul.
Frodo fled. Tears burned in his eyes and his breath in his lungs as he ran without heed to direction or distance. He tore down the lane until it narrowed between two fields of grain grown high and golden in the summer sun. He plunged headlong into the waving wheat stalks, fighting his way through them until he stumbled and fell, gasping, to the ground.
Another mouth to feed. A nuisance. A burden.
It was some time before he managed to right himself and make his way back toward the Hall. He felt as though he were bleeding from a thousand small wounds that no one save himself could see. He slipped past the busy dining chamber filled with his relatives, barricading himself behind the door of his room. He left the candles unlit, and only the fading rays of the daylight aided his vision as he flopped listlessly onto his bed.
He started as a knock on the door broke the silence. "Please, go away," he said to the closed door, remembering belatedly that he had forgotten to lock it as it inched open to reveal the face of Esmeralda Brandybuck.
"Frodo?" She said softly as she peered into the deepening shadows of the room. "Won't you come out and have some supper?" She had seen him dash past the dining hall, and when she hadn't found him in the library, she had continued on to his room.
"No, thank you. I'd really rather not," Frodo answered sullenly from the gathering darkness. He didn't want to see anyone or to be seen by them. He knew he must look a fright, with his hair mussed and his clothes covered with dirt from the wheat field where he had collapsed in exhaustion and misery. They would just paw and pry at him like they always did, feigning concern, but really thinking what a wild ragamuffin he was. He was just that odd little orphan to them, that moody little Baggins boy.
"I'll have something brought to you," Esmie said gently, knowing it was best not to disturb Frodo in such a mood. In the past, attempts to draw the lad out into the open when such fits took him were doomed to utter failure, and she knew better than to try it now.
"Thank you," Frodo muttered, not wishing to add rudeness to his seemingly long list of shortcomings. He lay down and closed his eyes, his back to the door and all that lay beyond it.
~*~
In the time that followed, there was often an elbow in Frodo's ribs or a foot tripping him. Stones were thrown, and shoves and slaps were delivered when no one was looking. After each incident, there followed a meaningful glance or a simple statement that left no doubt that Frodo must keep his silence. He bore it stoically, saving himself as often as not by holing up in the library in the comforting presence of leather bound books and gleaming wood shelves, letting the contents of those volumes transport him away from his loneliness and torment.
Merry struggled with the frustration of feeling powerless to help his favorite cousin. Frodo protested adamantly against any suggestion that he ask for assistance, or merely retreated, keeping to himself for weeks at a time.
~*~Bag End, Hobbiton, present time~*~
Tears stood in Sam's eyes as Merry finished the story. "Didn't anyone else know what was happening to Mr. Frodo?" he asked sadly.
"I'm not sure that they did, Sam. But that was when Bilbo started seriously considering bringing Frodo with him to Bag End."
Sam and Merry looked up as one at the sound of Frodo sitting up and groaning. Frodo rubbed at his eyes rather absently and yawned.
"We're sorry, Frodo. We didn't mean to wake you," Merry said gently.
"You're still up? I would have thought you'd be asleep by now," Frodo said looking at the clock with a small frown.
"We were just talkin', Mr. Frodo," Sam said, feeling a little guilty for having been discussing Frodo's past almost as if the subject of the conversation weren't present in the room.
"I was explaining to Sam about Brandy Hall and why it wasn't the most pleasant experience for you," Merry elaborated. "I hope you don't mind my speaking of it."
Frodo felt much more himself after the calming rest, and he smiled at his cousin. "No, Merry. I don't mind if you tell Sam about it." He settled himself against the sofa cushions. "Have you gotten to the events that preceded my arrival here?" he asked rather quietly.
Merry looked at his toes before answering. "Not all of them, Frodo. I didn't know if you really wanted me to tell that story."
Sam knew the official version of the tale, that Frodo and Bilbo had grown quite close during Frodo's youth and that Bilbo had chosen him as his heir and adopted him. They shared the same birthday in common, and Bilbo had made the light - hearted excuse that he and Frodo would be able to better celebrate their birthdays together if Frodo came to Bag End.
Frodo thought for a moment before answering. "Merry, I think it's time Sam heard the entire tale of why and how I came to live with Bilbo." He turned his gaze to Sam and said, "Sam, there is nothing I wouldn't share with you. No experience, however great or small, however good or frightful."
That being said, Frodo took a deep breath and began the tale himself. "It was a few days before my twenty - first birthday. Bilbo was at Brandy Hall for a visit, but that didn't stop Bargo and Reginard from brewing up the most extraordinarily awful scheme - "
~*~To Be Continued~*~
FrodoBaggins1982 - I know, it's hard not to just run over and hug poor Frodo, isn't it? Bilbo is about to get a little closer to a decision about him.
Endymion - Yes, those boys are starting to really get mean, aren't they? Hobbits with an attitude!
Aelfgifu - Thanks for your compliments on how Bilbo is portrayed. He's not going to be a doddering old goof in this fic, I promise!
Camellia Gamgee - Took - Yes, poor Frodo! And I'm afraid there's more in store for him yet.
Krista - Good to have you with us! I like stories of the hobbits' youth and childhood years too. This one will have a few twists in it. Let's just say Frodo's in for perhaps a little more than he bargained for!
Shirebound - Such treatment of our dear Frodo cannot go unpunished, can it? We will deal with those bullies eventually. Until then, they are unfortunately still at it.
Aratlithiel - Thanks for hanging in there and reviewing even if the site didn't seem to want you to! Those rotten "weasels" are really asking for it, aren't they?
TTTurtle - I was hoping you would find us again! Stay tuned, because I'll be updating every other day or so. This is a long story and there's much more of it yet to tell. I too have been the shy, skinny new kid before, and so can also relate to how Frodo feels here. I think many of us probably can!
Daisy Brambleburr - Chapter 4 was sad for Frodo. Still, he endures, and Bilbo is backing him up as much as possible.
Trust No One - Thanks for joining us! Emma is Frodo Angst Queen, and I walk humbly behind her at a respectful - and safe distance, for she is the keeper of Evil Merry! More angst ahead!
QTPie - 2488 - Those bullies are plenty mean, and they're still at it.
Iorhael - You're right! Frodo is far from worthless. Bargo and Reginard are experts at hurting his feelings, though.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 5 - Silence is Broken
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland, morning~*~
Morning sun illuminated the inside of the barn as Bilbo and Merry opened the doors. When Frodo hadn't appeared at breakfast and his room had proven deserted, they had gone walking and calling for him.
Bilbo had suspected that Frodo had gone out early and neglected to inform anyone of his whereabouts, until Merry had pulled him aside and voiced his fears that something was wrong. Frodo always told someone where he was going, Merry had explained. Merry also feared the worst when he saw Reginard and Bargo smirking and laughing together. They never laughed like that unless they were proud of themselves for something.
"Look, Uncle Bilbo!" Merry pointed at the downed ladder. It took both of them to lift it and lean it back against the edge of the hayloft. Bilbo gestured to Merry to remain on the ground, and he began to climb slowly.
As he peered around in the loft, Bilbo spied a pile of hay to one side, and he saw a tangle of brown curls sticking up out of another nearby hay mound. "Frodo!" he called as he climbed the rest of the way into the loft. He knelt beside the sleeping youngster and spoke his name again, shaking him lightly. "Frodo, wake up, lad!"
Frodo slowly opened his reddened, puffy eyes and met Bilbo's concerned gaze. Bilbo fought to conceal his anger when he saw the slight discoloration on Frodo's cheek and the swelling that had begun around his eye. "Frodo, Eru's graces, lad!" Bilbo fought to keep his voice steady. He didn't want his own voice to cause Frodo additional distress. "We missed you this morning." He brushed Frodo's hair back out of his eyes and continued in his kindest tone, "Tell me what happened, my boy."
The obvious love and concern in Bilbo's voice and the gentleness of his touch undid Frodo completely and he fell into the older hobbit's arms, sobbing miserably. Merry's head popped up at the edge of the loft, and the younger lad crawled through the hay to his cousin's side.
When he was steady enough to speak, Frodo let the whole story out in the open, including the awful words that were so hard to forget. "He called me worthless and unwanted, Uncle," Frodo whispered. "He's right, isn't he? Nobody wants me here, do they?"
"I do, Frodo." Merry hugged his cousin tightly. "You can't listen to them. They don't know their arses from - "
"Enough, Meriadoc," Bilbo admonished gently. Merry was too young to use such language, precocious though he might be. To Frodo he said, "Merry is right, Frodo. You mustn't allow yourself to believe such things, especially when they are said by such ill - favored louts."
"I know you're right, Uncle, but it's so hard sometimes." Frodo rubbed at his eyes and continued. "Unless I've done something wrong, no one seems to know I'm even around. I sometimes think I could just disappear and no one would notice."
"Ssshhh. Don't talk like that, lad." Bilbo looked for something to say that would reassure the youngster, but nothing came to him. Instead, he just stayed there with Frodo and held him, at a loss for how else to help him.
~*~Brandy Hall, mid - afternoon~*~
"Frodo, I'm glad you've decided to speak about this with Saradoc," Bilbo said, his arm around Frodo's shoulder in a gesture of support. "Those boys must be stopped, and that's all there is to it." Frodo nodded sullenly. He looked down at the floor, wishing he could just disappear into the weave of the rug beneath his feet.
Bilbo rapped smartly on the door of the study, and the voice of the Master of the Hall responded. "Come in, come in." Saradoc was smiling until he saw the serious expressions on the faces of the two hobbits before him. "Frodo, Bilbo, please sit down and tell me what's on your minds."
Bilbo saw that Frodo was still struggling with his decision to speak, and he opened the conversation instead. "Sara, there is something you should know about those lads, Bargo and Reginard." Bilbo's tone was hard, and his eyes flashed angrily at the memory of Frodo in the hayloft. "Those lads have been picking on Frodo for some time now, and they are causing him harm. It must be stopped."
Saradoc steepled his fingers thoughtfully. "Is this true, Frodo? Why have you not come to me before this?"
There was no turning back now. Frodo raised his eyes to Saradoc's and stammered, "Yes, it's true, but - I mean - they've given me a hard time, it's certain." He looked at the floor again. "If they find out I told you, they'll thrash on me even more for it." There seemed to be no way out.
"Thrash you? Great stars, Frodo!" Saradoc leaned forward in the big leather chair and gently touched Frodo's arm. "They've been at you recently," he observed, examining the lad's face. Ice had brought the swelling down, but not enough to keep Saradoc from noticing.
"They've been at him, all right," Bilbo said, his tone icy. "They've beaten him, and imprisoned him in the hayloft overnight!" He rose to his feet and glared down into Saradoc's face. "This is intolerable, Saradoc. I shall take action myself if you are not so inclined!"
His mouth set in a grim line, Saradoc rose also, his gaze level with Bilbo's. He was the Master of Buckland, and was not about to be shouted down by an eccentric old wanderer like Bilbo Baggins. "You forget yourself, Bilbo," he said, warning implicit in his tone. "Please lower your voice. I can hear you well enough, rest assured."
"I shall lower my voice, but not my expectations," Bilbo shot back, as Frodo slumped miserably in his chair. "I expect these incidents to stop, Sara. Frodo does nothing to deserve such treatment, and I shall be damned if he shall have it."
Frodo shifted uncomfortably, as all other eyes in the room became fixed upon him. He would rather have been almost anywhere else than under the measuring gaze of the Master of the Hall, and the angry, but protective stare of Bilbo.
"Have they done this to you before, Frodo?" Saradoc asked, addressing the downcast youth directly.
Frodo wished he could muster a commanding tone like that of the elder hobbit beside him, but his voice came out in a stuttering whisper, and he was ashamed. "Not - Not this, exactly," he began, fighting down the impulse to bolt from the room. "Other things."
"What other things?" Saradoc asked, his brow creasing. "Tell me, Frodo."
Frodo took a deep breath and forced himself to meet Saradoc's gaze. "They tossed me in the river once, but Merry taught me to swim, so -" he stopped short, swallowing hard and then forcing himself to go on. "And they made me raid Farmer Maggot's mushroom beds for them. They just," he shrugged and cast his eyes downward again. "They just thrash on me sometimes."
"This ends here and now," Saradoc said firmly, lifting Frodo's chin in his palm. "Those boys will be punished for hurting you, Frodo. They will be cleaning the stables for the next fortnight, beginning at the first light of dawn every day. Let them think about that if they want to thrash you again. There is plenty of work to be done, and if they tend to use their idle time to bad ends, they shall have considerably less of it." He nodded curtly to Bilbo. "Such behavior will not go unpunished at Brandy Hall, and I expect I will hear if there are any further problems." He looked at Frodo meaningfully.
Frodo nodded silently. If he had been right, the damage was done and doom was to fall in the near future. If he was wrong, the attacks would stop and life would be at least bearable. Perhaps Bilbo was right and it had been necessary to say something about Bargo and Reginard, but all Frodo could feel was dread of the days to come.
~*~
"And therefore you will present yourselves to the stable master at first light every day for the next fortnight," Saradoc said, pacing before the two lads. "Tardiness for one day earns you another. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
There were murmurs of "Yes, Sir" and "Perfectly, Sir" from the two miscreants standing before the judge and jury that was Saradoc Brandybuck. Bargo and Reginard managed to look, if not genuinely contrite, at least somewhat rueful regarding their sentence.
"There shall be no more of this violent behavior against Frodo or any other in the Hall." Saradoc stopped pacing for a moment and regarded the boys sternly. "I trust I shall not have to mention this again."
"No, Sir." Reginard straightened his shoulders as he faced the Master of the Hall. Bargo echoed the sentiment as Saradoc's gaze brushed over him.
"Very well, you are dismissed. Tomorrow you will start with the South Stables." Saradoc opened the door of his study and ushered Bargo and Reginard into the hallway.
An unpleasant task, but necessary, Saradoc thought as he closed the door and stood alone in his study. Lads of that age would act up as a matter of course, he reasoned. Stern discipline must be applied and adhered to, and eventually Bargo and Reginard would mature beyond this rebellious stage of their lives.
~*~The South Stables, the following morning~*~
Bargo stopped shoveling and leaned against the wall of the stable. "What do you know about that, Reg. That little rat finally squeaked, and here we are, up to our arses in - "
"No, not us, Bargo," Reginard snarled angrily. "It's Baggins who's up to his arse in it now." His eyes held something vicious and vengeful. "If he thought he had it hard before, he's got another thing coming."
Bargo stopped sulking and stood up straighter, his eyes taking on an ugly gleam. "Right you are, Reg," he replied. "We owe him double now, I reckon." He grinned at the thought of imminent and terrible revenge, but the grin was swiftly replaced by a frown as Bargo took the extraordinary step of thinking about his situation. "But what can we do now? The Master is onto us, and if we lay a finger on that little bookworm, we'll get it sure as sunrise."
"I don't know, Bargo, but I'm going to get Frodo if it takes the rest of my life," Reginard said, slinging a shovel full of manure onto a pile in the corner. The idea of throwing a load of the same at Frodo Baggins made him smile. "We'll pay that little runt back, no question." He locked his gaze with that of his friend. "I swear it."
~*~Three weeks later~*~
Frodo felt the rough wood of the barn wall sticking in his back with tiny, splintery talons as Reginard held him against it. He sucked in a breath as he was nearly lifted off his feet by the fierce enemy before him.
"I'll tell you how it's going to be, Baggins," Reginard hissed. "You better grow eyes in the back of your skull, rat." A vicious sneer crossed the older boy's face. "There won't always be somebody lookin'. And if you tell - " Reginard slammed Frodo back against the barn wall again. "If you tell anyone, we will thrash you to within a hair's breadth of your worthless, stupid life!" He punctuated the statement by plucking one hair out of Frodo's scalp and twirling it under the younger lad's nose.
Frodo kicked Reginard in the shin as fury rose within him. "You wouldn't dare! You'll be sent away if you try it!" Reginard's grip loosened slightly as Frodo's foot connected with its target, but tightened again as the battle of wills played itself out in the lengthening afternoon shadows.
"Will we, Frodo? Maybe they'll get rid of you instead." Reginard glared down at Frodo. "They don't want you. They just take care of you because they have to. When your parents died, they said, 'Oh, Glory! Another mouth to feed.'" He leaned closer as he spoke his next words. "I hear they even asked why you weren't in that boat too. Bad luck, they figured."
Frodo had borne the assault bravely until that moment. He could have withstood any number of physical blows with more steadiness and aplomb than the cold words which now rang in his ears. "No! You're lying!" He shouted back at the sneering horror before him. "You're a filthy liar, and a snake - "
"Am I?" Reginard smiled nastily. "You'll never know, because they'll never say it where you'll hear them." He brought his lips close to Frodo's ear and whispered, "But I hear them, Frodo. I hear them every day, and they say you should have gone with your folks, to the bottom of the river."
"No - " Frodo protested, his voice finally breaking. "They wouldn't say that! They - "
"They wouldn't say that because they love you, Frodo?" Reginard's voice dripped with obscene sarcasm. "They don't love you. You're a nuisance to them. You're a burden." Reginard released his prey, and Frodo slipped sideways away from him and began backing away. Reginard began to laugh as Frodo stepped away from him unsteadily, stricken to his soul.
Frodo fled. Tears burned in his eyes and his breath in his lungs as he ran without heed to direction or distance. He tore down the lane until it narrowed between two fields of grain grown high and golden in the summer sun. He plunged headlong into the waving wheat stalks, fighting his way through them until he stumbled and fell, gasping, to the ground.
Another mouth to feed. A nuisance. A burden.
It was some time before he managed to right himself and make his way back toward the Hall. He felt as though he were bleeding from a thousand small wounds that no one save himself could see. He slipped past the busy dining chamber filled with his relatives, barricading himself behind the door of his room. He left the candles unlit, and only the fading rays of the daylight aided his vision as he flopped listlessly onto his bed.
He started as a knock on the door broke the silence. "Please, go away," he said to the closed door, remembering belatedly that he had forgotten to lock it as it inched open to reveal the face of Esmeralda Brandybuck.
"Frodo?" She said softly as she peered into the deepening shadows of the room. "Won't you come out and have some supper?" She had seen him dash past the dining hall, and when she hadn't found him in the library, she had continued on to his room.
"No, thank you. I'd really rather not," Frodo answered sullenly from the gathering darkness. He didn't want to see anyone or to be seen by them. He knew he must look a fright, with his hair mussed and his clothes covered with dirt from the wheat field where he had collapsed in exhaustion and misery. They would just paw and pry at him like they always did, feigning concern, but really thinking what a wild ragamuffin he was. He was just that odd little orphan to them, that moody little Baggins boy.
"I'll have something brought to you," Esmie said gently, knowing it was best not to disturb Frodo in such a mood. In the past, attempts to draw the lad out into the open when such fits took him were doomed to utter failure, and she knew better than to try it now.
"Thank you," Frodo muttered, not wishing to add rudeness to his seemingly long list of shortcomings. He lay down and closed his eyes, his back to the door and all that lay beyond it.
~*~
In the time that followed, there was often an elbow in Frodo's ribs or a foot tripping him. Stones were thrown, and shoves and slaps were delivered when no one was looking. After each incident, there followed a meaningful glance or a simple statement that left no doubt that Frodo must keep his silence. He bore it stoically, saving himself as often as not by holing up in the library in the comforting presence of leather bound books and gleaming wood shelves, letting the contents of those volumes transport him away from his loneliness and torment.
Merry struggled with the frustration of feeling powerless to help his favorite cousin. Frodo protested adamantly against any suggestion that he ask for assistance, or merely retreated, keeping to himself for weeks at a time.
~*~Bag End, Hobbiton, present time~*~
Tears stood in Sam's eyes as Merry finished the story. "Didn't anyone else know what was happening to Mr. Frodo?" he asked sadly.
"I'm not sure that they did, Sam. But that was when Bilbo started seriously considering bringing Frodo with him to Bag End."
Sam and Merry looked up as one at the sound of Frodo sitting up and groaning. Frodo rubbed at his eyes rather absently and yawned.
"We're sorry, Frodo. We didn't mean to wake you," Merry said gently.
"You're still up? I would have thought you'd be asleep by now," Frodo said looking at the clock with a small frown.
"We were just talkin', Mr. Frodo," Sam said, feeling a little guilty for having been discussing Frodo's past almost as if the subject of the conversation weren't present in the room.
"I was explaining to Sam about Brandy Hall and why it wasn't the most pleasant experience for you," Merry elaborated. "I hope you don't mind my speaking of it."
Frodo felt much more himself after the calming rest, and he smiled at his cousin. "No, Merry. I don't mind if you tell Sam about it." He settled himself against the sofa cushions. "Have you gotten to the events that preceded my arrival here?" he asked rather quietly.
Merry looked at his toes before answering. "Not all of them, Frodo. I didn't know if you really wanted me to tell that story."
Sam knew the official version of the tale, that Frodo and Bilbo had grown quite close during Frodo's youth and that Bilbo had chosen him as his heir and adopted him. They shared the same birthday in common, and Bilbo had made the light - hearted excuse that he and Frodo would be able to better celebrate their birthdays together if Frodo came to Bag End.
Frodo thought for a moment before answering. "Merry, I think it's time Sam heard the entire tale of why and how I came to live with Bilbo." He turned his gaze to Sam and said, "Sam, there is nothing I wouldn't share with you. No experience, however great or small, however good or frightful."
That being said, Frodo took a deep breath and began the tale himself. "It was a few days before my twenty - first birthday. Bilbo was at Brandy Hall for a visit, but that didn't stop Bargo and Reginard from brewing up the most extraordinarily awful scheme - "
~*~To Be Continued~*~