Bookworm2000 - How about that nasty ruffian? Have I sufficiently tangled
the plot at this point? Lots of people with lots of motives coming into the
mix now! Let's see what Saradoc decides to do.
Endymion - Saradoc does indeed have the advantage of traveling by pony. Interesting argument? I hope it's interesting. Aiden has learned some new things about hobbit culture and he will learn more in this chapter. Will the man who placed the first bid have two hobbits to choose from? We'll see!
Camellia - Gamgee - Took - It looks like Frodo is not as safe as we thought, eh? Trouble? Well, maybe. Time will tell!
QTPie - 2488 - Aiden is indeed kind to Frodo because of the memory of his own loved ones. He's also just kind in general! The two bad guys from earlier in the story are not necessarily gone. You will see them again! To answer your question about the length of the story, so far there are 26 chapters. And yes, that nasty fellow who placed the first bid for Frodo is still with us and he's in a bad mood!
Aelfgifu - Aiden is a sweetie! I'm sure any single Middle Earth girls would just love to meet him. Ahh. The man in the shadows lingers still. As to something going awry, let's see what comes our way. By the way, your spamblocker did throw me back. I know it's new, so I'm not fretting!
Tavion - Thanks for coming by, and for reading my other stories! I hope to have more ideas as time goes by. We will eventually see Sam, Frodo and Merry s their adult selves back at Bag End, but not for a while yet. There is more of the tale to be told!
TTTurtle - It would be great to have a hobbit or two come by to visit. I would welcome them gladly. It would be a little scary to be one of the little folk in a world where almost everything is larger, and one would hope there are some general rules about everyone living peacefully together. Fast updates guaranteed, since I'm as into this as you are!
CuriousCat - So thrilling to have lurkers cease to lurk! Welcome. Saradoc just doesn't quite understand Frodo the way Bilbo does, it seems. With all of Brandy Hall to run, the needs of a unique individual like Frodo just don't quite occur to him as they should. More mischief afoot? Oh, yeah!
Iorhael - More angst coming, I promise. But for now, we're giving Frodo a break from all that he's endured so far.
Aratlithiel - You're right that we can't forget that lurker. He's not going to let us forget him.
Heartofahobbit - Brandy Hall is pretty big. I haven't found info yet that states how many hobbits live there, but in the prologue of FOTR, Tolkien refers to places like Brandy Hall and the Great Smials of Tuckborough as dwellings where many generations of hobbits live together in many - tunneled mansions. Brandy Hall is the ancestral home of the Brandybucks, but it would be easy to imagine many other relatives living there as well. Frodo's faith in the Big Folk may be open to changes. Time will tell!
Midgette - There isn't anything wrong per se with just letting Frodo go home and ending the story there. It's just that plotbunnies are strange creatures and things will sometimes just happen. Sometimes a twist in the plot will lead to further exploration of characters and their motives, and to more opportunities to explore angst, drama, action, redemption, inner strength, and a host of other things. I don't want to drop any spoilers here, so I'll explain better in my e - mail.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 13 - Concerning the Giving of Gifts
~*~Aiden's home, Bree, early morning~*~
Aiden woke to the sound of industrious activity in the kitchen. It was still rather early in the morning, and he was surprised that Frodo should be up and about already. He dressed quickly and left his room, emerging to see Frodo bustling about busily in the kitchen. The delicious aroma of breakfast reached him as he stood in the doorway.
"Frodo, why so busy at this hour?" he inquired of his small guest, who stood on a chair to reach the stove. Nothing in the house was sized to hobbit proportions, so Frodo needed a boost to accomplish his task.
"I'm making you breakfast," he replied simply. "Tea?" He gestured to the table, which was set and ready.
Aiden was rather amazed. He hoped that Frodo was not under the impression that such things were going to be required of him on a daily basis. He certainly had not paid for the hobbit's freedom just to have Frodo consider himself a servant of any kind.
"Frodo, this is not necessary. You do realize that, do you not?" he said gently, trying to convey his thoughts without bringing up the subject of Frodo's ordeal. The lad was recovering nicely from the harsh experience, and Aiden wanted to see him continue to do so.
"But I must do something for you," Frodo replied, looking a little fretful. "I have nothing else to give you, and no money to buy you a present."
Aiden wondered if he was not yet fully awake. Had Frodo just said something about buying him a present? "I am afraid I do not understand," he said, sitting down at the table. "Why should you feel you need to give me a gift?"
"Because it's my birthday, of course," Frodo replied. "Gift giving is a part of celebrating one's birthday, is it not?"
Aiden was beginning to understand that he was running blindly into another custom of these small folk, and his education was about to be furthered. "Well, yes, the giving of gifts is a part of celebrating a birthday," he conceded. "But should I not be giving you something since it is your birthday today?"
"Oh, I hadn't realized - " Frodo stammered, feeling foolish. "You see, in the Shire, it is the one celebrating his birthday who gives gifts to his friends and family on that day. The custom is very old among my folk."
"Ahh, I see," Aiden replied, pouring two cups of herbal tea. "Because it is your birthday and you must give me a gift, in keeping with your custom, you have made me breakfast."
Frodo smiled and nodded. "Exactly." He looked rather wistful as he spoke again. "It's not a proper gift, really. It was all I could think of."
"It is a fine gift, Frodo," Aiden said softly, thinking how extraordinary the Shire Folk were. "I accept it gladly, and wish you a happy birthday." A thought struck him and he looked curiously at the small hobbit standing before him. "How old are you today, Frodo, if I may be so bold?"
"Today is my twenty - first birthday," Frodo replied.
"Why, you're all but grown then," Aiden said with surprise. Perhaps it was an effect of his diminutive size, but Frodo looked much younger than twenty - one.
"Oh, I'm not of age yet," Frodo laughed. "I will be considered to be an adult when I reach the age of thirty - three."
Aiden nearly choked on his tea. "Thirty - Three? So you are not a child really, but not an adult either?"
"No, I am what we call a tween," Frodo explained. "As you said, I am not a child anymore, but I have yet to reach my majority. I am somewhere in between, hence the term 'tween'."
So Frodo was perhaps the equivalent of a youth of sixteen years. As this thought struck him, Aiden felt his anger rising against those who had held him captive and sought to sell him into no less than slavery. Frodo was just a young lad, too young to be exposed to the horrors of such things.
He pushed the thoughts away, not wanting to frighten the young one with them. "Enough laboring for the time being," he said, trying to bring the cheer back into his tone. "Come sit at the table and have breakfast. If tweens have the appetite of their age equivalent among my people, your hunger must be fair maddening."
Frodo laughed at the comment, but did as he was bidden, pausing only to bring steaming dishes to the table.
~*~The Bree road, mid afternoon~*~
Bilbo stopped walking and cocked his head to the side, listening. Merry stopped as well, and turned to see Bilbo with a look of concentration on his face.
"What is it? Do you hear something?" Merry asked as Bilbo turned and looked back the way they had come.
"I thought I heard the sound of hoofbeats," he replied. "I suggest we use caution until we know who is behind us."
Merry shifted nervously from one foot to the other. It could just be another traveler on the road, who would wave and pass them by. It could also be someone whose intentions were less than wholesome, a highway robber maybe. Another thought struck the young Brandybuck and his pulse quickened. It could be someone from home, coming for him. Eru, but he had done some mischief this time, hadn't he?
They moved to the side of the road where they could dive into the concealing underbrush if a threat should appear. Whether or not the rider was a threatening presence however, depended upon the perspective of the observer. Saradoc Brandybuck, Master of Buckland, came around a bend in the road and into Bilbo and Merry's line of sight.
"Steady, Meriadoc," Bilbo said. "It seems our plans are about to meet with considerable resistance."
If Bilbo was exercising his talent for understatement, he was in fine form that afternoon. Saradoc's glower deepened as he saw them ahead, waiting for him. Upon reaching them, he dismounted and stood before them with his eyes blazing angrily.
"Bilbo Baggins, you have much to answer for," Saradoc said sternly. His gaze moved to Merry, who flinched despite his best effort to the contrary. "And Meriadoc, you should know better."
"I'm sorry, Father," Merry began nervously. "I didn't mean to cause you worry - "
"Didn't mean to cause me worry?" Saradoc repeated incredulously. "And I suppose I should not be worried if my son disappears into the wilderness on a dangerous journey with an old fool?"
Bilbo straightened and faced Saradoc eye to eye. "An old fool I may be Sara, but even I can see that Merry is not an infant anymore." He gestured to the lad beside him. "He is old enough to make decisions for himself and brave enough to go where his heart leads him, for the sake of those he loves. You should be proud of him."
Saradoc's face reddened. Who was Bilbo to tell him in what regard he should hold his son? "I am as proud of Meriadoc as a father could be, Bilbo. Even so, this journey is ill - advised and he is too young yet for such ventures."
Merry began to feel the stirrings of anger within him. They were discussing him as if he weren't even present! How could his father treat him so?
"And when will I not be too young, Father?" Merry said, rather hotly. Bilbo and Saradoc both turned to face him at the sound of his voice. "I am old enough to do the same chores as the older boys and to face the same punishments for neglecting them. I have been allowed to come and go as I please, so long as I leave word of my whereabouts. Have I not done so?"
Saradoc sighed. "This is different, Merry," he said, looking for a way to explain. "This is not an afternoon of fishing or an overnight camp out with your friends. This is leaving the Shire and traveling to Bree, a place that can hold many dangers. Add to that the reason for your going, and - "
"The reason I'm going to Bree is Frodo," Merry said sharply. "Frodo needs me, Father. Have you ever noticed that no one else pays any attention to him? Well I do pay attention! I'm his friend, and I won't leave him in danger."
"And what will you do then, if he truly is in danger? Are you big enough and strong enough to fight the Big Folk? What if they are armed?" Saradoc's voice began to betray his fear for his young son. "Think of your mother and me, Merry. Do you know how awful it would be for us if something happened to you? We couldn't bear it."
"I don't know what I can do to help Frodo, Father. I only know that I feel I have to try somehow." Merry looked at his feet for a moment. "I know you and Mother are upset, and I don't blame you." He looked up again, his expression hardening. "But I will not turn back with you."
Saradoc seemed almost physically impacted by his son's words. He stepped back and looked at Merry, and as he did the shock seemed to drive away the illusion that his son was still the little, golden - haired child he held in his heart and mind. He realized that Merry stood straight and tall, and would be able to look him in the eye ere another season had passed. The legendary Brandybuck stubbornness was plain in the set of the lad's jaw and the sharpness of his gaze.
"You plan to defy me, then? Your own father, Meriadoc?" A look of pain and disappointment flickered in Saradoc's eyes.
"Come with us, Saradoc," Bilbo offered, laying a hand on the other hobbit's shoulder. Unless he missed his guess, the façade would start to crack in a few moments. "If Merry will not be convinced to turn back, you could join us instead."
"Join you? Bilbo, this is a fool's errand, undertaken in haste as the result of listening to rumor," he replied, regarding Bilbo as if he had just sprouted wings. "I do not want my son in danger at all, Bilbo. It matters not whether I am there when danger threatens."
Merry joined the conversation again. "Please, Father. I would like it very much if you went to Bree with us. I heard them talking, Father. It's more than just rumor that Bilbo and I are following. Bargo and Reginard have done something awful and Frodo is in trouble."
Saradoc had never heard his son speak in that tone before. It was grave and serious, courageous and resolute. It was the sound of impending maturity, of loyalty and love. It demanded fairness and honesty in response, and challenged him to walk the path of right, rather than safety. He realized he was more proud of his son than ever before.
"If I cannot persuade you to return with me, Meriadoc, I suppose I shall have no choice but to accompany you to Bree," he said slowly. "For I will not end this day without you at my side, one way or another."
Father and son hugged each other then, words no longer being necessary. Bilbo smiled to himself, pleased with the resolution. Merry was growing up before his father's very eyes, and Saradoc had now seen the truth of the matter. He felt almost uncomfortable witnessing such a pivotal moment in the relationship of father and son.
Bilbo cleared his throat and leaned on his walking stick. "We had best be on our way, had we not?" The gentle prodding brought the other two back to the task at hand and they broke away, smiling at each other.
The pony was laden with packs and Merry took the reins to lead him. The three hobbits continued toward the town of Bree as the afternoon wore away toward evening.
~*~Aiden's home, Bree, late afternoon~*~
Frodo had been reading before the fire, and had fallen asleep on the sofa. Aiden slipped out of the room quietly, walking into the room where the small trunk sat against the wall. He opened it again, and began to remove items as he worked his way toward the bottom. When he reached the box, still wrapped in paper and tied simply with twine, he stopped.
Frodo had said that among his people it was the one celebrating his birthday who gave the gifts, but Frodo was not among his own people. Rather, he was a distance from home, alone save for the company of a single man, who knew little of his customs despite being on good terms with the Shire Folk in general. The tween had nothing to his name in this foreign place, brought here unwilling as he was.
Aiden drew the small box out of the trunk. It had been intended as a gift for Callen, but the Fever had struck before it could be given to the lad. In his grief, Aiden had packed it away with the child's other belongings, and only now had it come to mind again.
He replaced the other items in the trunk and locked it, then took the box out into the parlor and laid it upon a table. As he placed another log upon the fire, Frodo woke with a start.
"Oh, I must have nodded off," he said, yawning. Frodo sat up and stretched as Aiden seated himself in a chair nearby.
"I'm glad you're awake, Frodo. I have something for you." Aiden lifted the box from the table and held it out to Frodo, who looked at him curiously.
"But you don't have to give me anything," he replied, smiling. "Or is it your birthday too?"
Aiden laughed at the remark. "No, Frodo. It is not my birthday today. Since you are among my folk at this time, I merely thought it appropriate that I should observe my own custom as always. Besides, I think you will put this to good use."
Frodo took the box from his hands with care, and perhaps some hesitation. He certainly didn't wish to offend this kind man by refusing his gift, but he felt he had accepted much from Aiden as it was.
"Go ahead and open it," Aiden prompted him.
Frodo pulled carefully at the twine around the box. As the paper came away and he opened the package, his eyes lit with joy. "Oh, it's wonderful," he cried as he held up the thick woolen cloak. It was a fine forest green shade, and the fabric was sturdy. He stood and wrapped it around him experimentally, and found it to be the correct size.
Before he could blink, Aiden found his arms full of hobbit as Frodo hugged him. "Thank you, Aiden. I shall treasure it," Frodo told him, hugging him like a lifelong friend.
"I am glad it suits you," he replied, returning the hug. Aiden found himself wondering if any of Frodo's family had come to look for him yet. If by any chance they had learned of the treachery of the lads who were responsible for Frodo's adventure, they should be arriving in Bree soon to find him and take him home.
He realized he would miss his young friend when that time came. Even so, Frodo was of the Shire and belonged there, among his own. It would be enough to have known the remarkable lad for the short time they'd had. Seeing the happiness in Frodo's face on this day confirmed that he regretted not a single one of the coins he had parted with to save him, for a being of light such as this was well worth saving.
~*~The Inn of the Prancing Pony, Bree~*~
"'Bout time you showed up," the scruffy man growled. That stupid dolt of an innkeeper was unreliable at best when it came to delivering messages. It was surprising these two had even gotten word that he wanted to meet with them.
"Patience, friend," Dolan said evenly. "You said you had a business proposition to discuss?" He and Fergus seated themselves at the small table in the corner.
"That fancy fella what bought that halfling offa you boys. I seen him in the market with the little imp, just walkin' by his side, pretty as you please." The man gave them a sour look and continued. "That little thing shoulda been mine, but that smart - mouth merchant stuck his nose in."
"That's business, me friend," Fergus replied. "Sold t' the highest bidder, fair enough."
"I still want that halfling, and I'll pay you good to help me get him." The scruffy man proposed. "I know where that fella lives."
Dolan found himself mentally recoiling from the situation. He was a traveling trader, not a kidnapper for hire. It had been enough trouble keeping that halfling under wraps as it was, and he was actually glad to have washed his hands of the whole thing. He now had enough coin laid away to last him through the winter months. He didn't need to risk being arrested and locked away for criminal activity.
Fergus seemed to be considering. "What's yer offer then?"
"Fifteen gold pieces each." The man glared across the table at Dolan and Fergus.
"Gonna cost ye at least twenty each fer that kind o' work," Fergus replied dismissively. There was no way he was going to go into a man's home and risk being killed or wounded in an attempt to kidnap a halfling without being paid a decent fee for it.
"What do you mean 'each'?" Dolan asked, his eyebrows rising. "I'm not getting involved in any break - ins or kidnappings. I've got myself settled for the winter, and I'm not going to risk it."
Fergus was taken aback. He looked surprised, then angry. "Ye mean yer not in? Yer goin' to sit back on yer happy arse an' refuse a chance at a little extra?" What was the matter with the man? He might have enough to last the winter, but what about enough to actually enjoy it?
"That's right," Dolan answered, downing a swallow of ale. "It was a hindrance taking on that halfling to begin with." He turned to Fergus and spoke pointedly. "I'm a trader, Fergus. Not a kidnapper."
"I was right then, wasn't I?" Fergus smirked nastily. "Ye were goin' sweet on that lil' thing. Ye got a likin' fer halflings, Dolan?" The suggestion was accompanied by a wolfish grin.
"Bastard!" Dolan spat. "You're so stupid, Fergus. You've got enough money to set yourself up for the winter, but you want more. You willing to risk spending the winter in lockup?" He slammed his tankard down against the table. "That's your business."
The scruffy man who had made the offer was watching them with something rather like amusement as they argued. He didn't care if they came to blows or if they kissed and made up later, as long as they helped him get what he was after.
"Yer a bleedin' coward, Dolan," Fergus accused. "Always knew it, I did. Ye don't want any part of it? Well that's dandy wi' me."
"Call me what you will, Fergus," Dolan growled, "but don't call me when that fella rams a knife into your gut for breaking into his home."
Fergus had imbibed enough ale and heard enough talk. He rose from the table and swung at Dolan, catching him in the jaw with a solid roundhouse punch. Dolan got to his feet slowly, rubbing his jaw. In a swift motion, he grabbed Fergus by his collar and slammed him into the wall.
"You're on your own, Fergus. Good luck. I hope that merchant cuts your heart out." He let go, then turned and stalked out of the common room.
Brushing himself off and gathering his composure, Fergus turned back to the man at the table. "Fine thing, when ye learn who yer friends are." He seated himself at the table again. "What's yer name, friend?"
"You can call me Gavin," the man said. Gavin and Fergus shook hands.
~*~To be continued~*~
Endymion - Saradoc does indeed have the advantage of traveling by pony. Interesting argument? I hope it's interesting. Aiden has learned some new things about hobbit culture and he will learn more in this chapter. Will the man who placed the first bid have two hobbits to choose from? We'll see!
Camellia - Gamgee - Took - It looks like Frodo is not as safe as we thought, eh? Trouble? Well, maybe. Time will tell!
QTPie - 2488 - Aiden is indeed kind to Frodo because of the memory of his own loved ones. He's also just kind in general! The two bad guys from earlier in the story are not necessarily gone. You will see them again! To answer your question about the length of the story, so far there are 26 chapters. And yes, that nasty fellow who placed the first bid for Frodo is still with us and he's in a bad mood!
Aelfgifu - Aiden is a sweetie! I'm sure any single Middle Earth girls would just love to meet him. Ahh. The man in the shadows lingers still. As to something going awry, let's see what comes our way. By the way, your spamblocker did throw me back. I know it's new, so I'm not fretting!
Tavion - Thanks for coming by, and for reading my other stories! I hope to have more ideas as time goes by. We will eventually see Sam, Frodo and Merry s their adult selves back at Bag End, but not for a while yet. There is more of the tale to be told!
TTTurtle - It would be great to have a hobbit or two come by to visit. I would welcome them gladly. It would be a little scary to be one of the little folk in a world where almost everything is larger, and one would hope there are some general rules about everyone living peacefully together. Fast updates guaranteed, since I'm as into this as you are!
CuriousCat - So thrilling to have lurkers cease to lurk! Welcome. Saradoc just doesn't quite understand Frodo the way Bilbo does, it seems. With all of Brandy Hall to run, the needs of a unique individual like Frodo just don't quite occur to him as they should. More mischief afoot? Oh, yeah!
Iorhael - More angst coming, I promise. But for now, we're giving Frodo a break from all that he's endured so far.
Aratlithiel - You're right that we can't forget that lurker. He's not going to let us forget him.
Heartofahobbit - Brandy Hall is pretty big. I haven't found info yet that states how many hobbits live there, but in the prologue of FOTR, Tolkien refers to places like Brandy Hall and the Great Smials of Tuckborough as dwellings where many generations of hobbits live together in many - tunneled mansions. Brandy Hall is the ancestral home of the Brandybucks, but it would be easy to imagine many other relatives living there as well. Frodo's faith in the Big Folk may be open to changes. Time will tell!
Midgette - There isn't anything wrong per se with just letting Frodo go home and ending the story there. It's just that plotbunnies are strange creatures and things will sometimes just happen. Sometimes a twist in the plot will lead to further exploration of characters and their motives, and to more opportunities to explore angst, drama, action, redemption, inner strength, and a host of other things. I don't want to drop any spoilers here, so I'll explain better in my e - mail.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 13 - Concerning the Giving of Gifts
~*~Aiden's home, Bree, early morning~*~
Aiden woke to the sound of industrious activity in the kitchen. It was still rather early in the morning, and he was surprised that Frodo should be up and about already. He dressed quickly and left his room, emerging to see Frodo bustling about busily in the kitchen. The delicious aroma of breakfast reached him as he stood in the doorway.
"Frodo, why so busy at this hour?" he inquired of his small guest, who stood on a chair to reach the stove. Nothing in the house was sized to hobbit proportions, so Frodo needed a boost to accomplish his task.
"I'm making you breakfast," he replied simply. "Tea?" He gestured to the table, which was set and ready.
Aiden was rather amazed. He hoped that Frodo was not under the impression that such things were going to be required of him on a daily basis. He certainly had not paid for the hobbit's freedom just to have Frodo consider himself a servant of any kind.
"Frodo, this is not necessary. You do realize that, do you not?" he said gently, trying to convey his thoughts without bringing up the subject of Frodo's ordeal. The lad was recovering nicely from the harsh experience, and Aiden wanted to see him continue to do so.
"But I must do something for you," Frodo replied, looking a little fretful. "I have nothing else to give you, and no money to buy you a present."
Aiden wondered if he was not yet fully awake. Had Frodo just said something about buying him a present? "I am afraid I do not understand," he said, sitting down at the table. "Why should you feel you need to give me a gift?"
"Because it's my birthday, of course," Frodo replied. "Gift giving is a part of celebrating one's birthday, is it not?"
Aiden was beginning to understand that he was running blindly into another custom of these small folk, and his education was about to be furthered. "Well, yes, the giving of gifts is a part of celebrating a birthday," he conceded. "But should I not be giving you something since it is your birthday today?"
"Oh, I hadn't realized - " Frodo stammered, feeling foolish. "You see, in the Shire, it is the one celebrating his birthday who gives gifts to his friends and family on that day. The custom is very old among my folk."
"Ahh, I see," Aiden replied, pouring two cups of herbal tea. "Because it is your birthday and you must give me a gift, in keeping with your custom, you have made me breakfast."
Frodo smiled and nodded. "Exactly." He looked rather wistful as he spoke again. "It's not a proper gift, really. It was all I could think of."
"It is a fine gift, Frodo," Aiden said softly, thinking how extraordinary the Shire Folk were. "I accept it gladly, and wish you a happy birthday." A thought struck him and he looked curiously at the small hobbit standing before him. "How old are you today, Frodo, if I may be so bold?"
"Today is my twenty - first birthday," Frodo replied.
"Why, you're all but grown then," Aiden said with surprise. Perhaps it was an effect of his diminutive size, but Frodo looked much younger than twenty - one.
"Oh, I'm not of age yet," Frodo laughed. "I will be considered to be an adult when I reach the age of thirty - three."
Aiden nearly choked on his tea. "Thirty - Three? So you are not a child really, but not an adult either?"
"No, I am what we call a tween," Frodo explained. "As you said, I am not a child anymore, but I have yet to reach my majority. I am somewhere in between, hence the term 'tween'."
So Frodo was perhaps the equivalent of a youth of sixteen years. As this thought struck him, Aiden felt his anger rising against those who had held him captive and sought to sell him into no less than slavery. Frodo was just a young lad, too young to be exposed to the horrors of such things.
He pushed the thoughts away, not wanting to frighten the young one with them. "Enough laboring for the time being," he said, trying to bring the cheer back into his tone. "Come sit at the table and have breakfast. If tweens have the appetite of their age equivalent among my people, your hunger must be fair maddening."
Frodo laughed at the comment, but did as he was bidden, pausing only to bring steaming dishes to the table.
~*~The Bree road, mid afternoon~*~
Bilbo stopped walking and cocked his head to the side, listening. Merry stopped as well, and turned to see Bilbo with a look of concentration on his face.
"What is it? Do you hear something?" Merry asked as Bilbo turned and looked back the way they had come.
"I thought I heard the sound of hoofbeats," he replied. "I suggest we use caution until we know who is behind us."
Merry shifted nervously from one foot to the other. It could just be another traveler on the road, who would wave and pass them by. It could also be someone whose intentions were less than wholesome, a highway robber maybe. Another thought struck the young Brandybuck and his pulse quickened. It could be someone from home, coming for him. Eru, but he had done some mischief this time, hadn't he?
They moved to the side of the road where they could dive into the concealing underbrush if a threat should appear. Whether or not the rider was a threatening presence however, depended upon the perspective of the observer. Saradoc Brandybuck, Master of Buckland, came around a bend in the road and into Bilbo and Merry's line of sight.
"Steady, Meriadoc," Bilbo said. "It seems our plans are about to meet with considerable resistance."
If Bilbo was exercising his talent for understatement, he was in fine form that afternoon. Saradoc's glower deepened as he saw them ahead, waiting for him. Upon reaching them, he dismounted and stood before them with his eyes blazing angrily.
"Bilbo Baggins, you have much to answer for," Saradoc said sternly. His gaze moved to Merry, who flinched despite his best effort to the contrary. "And Meriadoc, you should know better."
"I'm sorry, Father," Merry began nervously. "I didn't mean to cause you worry - "
"Didn't mean to cause me worry?" Saradoc repeated incredulously. "And I suppose I should not be worried if my son disappears into the wilderness on a dangerous journey with an old fool?"
Bilbo straightened and faced Saradoc eye to eye. "An old fool I may be Sara, but even I can see that Merry is not an infant anymore." He gestured to the lad beside him. "He is old enough to make decisions for himself and brave enough to go where his heart leads him, for the sake of those he loves. You should be proud of him."
Saradoc's face reddened. Who was Bilbo to tell him in what regard he should hold his son? "I am as proud of Meriadoc as a father could be, Bilbo. Even so, this journey is ill - advised and he is too young yet for such ventures."
Merry began to feel the stirrings of anger within him. They were discussing him as if he weren't even present! How could his father treat him so?
"And when will I not be too young, Father?" Merry said, rather hotly. Bilbo and Saradoc both turned to face him at the sound of his voice. "I am old enough to do the same chores as the older boys and to face the same punishments for neglecting them. I have been allowed to come and go as I please, so long as I leave word of my whereabouts. Have I not done so?"
Saradoc sighed. "This is different, Merry," he said, looking for a way to explain. "This is not an afternoon of fishing or an overnight camp out with your friends. This is leaving the Shire and traveling to Bree, a place that can hold many dangers. Add to that the reason for your going, and - "
"The reason I'm going to Bree is Frodo," Merry said sharply. "Frodo needs me, Father. Have you ever noticed that no one else pays any attention to him? Well I do pay attention! I'm his friend, and I won't leave him in danger."
"And what will you do then, if he truly is in danger? Are you big enough and strong enough to fight the Big Folk? What if they are armed?" Saradoc's voice began to betray his fear for his young son. "Think of your mother and me, Merry. Do you know how awful it would be for us if something happened to you? We couldn't bear it."
"I don't know what I can do to help Frodo, Father. I only know that I feel I have to try somehow." Merry looked at his feet for a moment. "I know you and Mother are upset, and I don't blame you." He looked up again, his expression hardening. "But I will not turn back with you."
Saradoc seemed almost physically impacted by his son's words. He stepped back and looked at Merry, and as he did the shock seemed to drive away the illusion that his son was still the little, golden - haired child he held in his heart and mind. He realized that Merry stood straight and tall, and would be able to look him in the eye ere another season had passed. The legendary Brandybuck stubbornness was plain in the set of the lad's jaw and the sharpness of his gaze.
"You plan to defy me, then? Your own father, Meriadoc?" A look of pain and disappointment flickered in Saradoc's eyes.
"Come with us, Saradoc," Bilbo offered, laying a hand on the other hobbit's shoulder. Unless he missed his guess, the façade would start to crack in a few moments. "If Merry will not be convinced to turn back, you could join us instead."
"Join you? Bilbo, this is a fool's errand, undertaken in haste as the result of listening to rumor," he replied, regarding Bilbo as if he had just sprouted wings. "I do not want my son in danger at all, Bilbo. It matters not whether I am there when danger threatens."
Merry joined the conversation again. "Please, Father. I would like it very much if you went to Bree with us. I heard them talking, Father. It's more than just rumor that Bilbo and I are following. Bargo and Reginard have done something awful and Frodo is in trouble."
Saradoc had never heard his son speak in that tone before. It was grave and serious, courageous and resolute. It was the sound of impending maturity, of loyalty and love. It demanded fairness and honesty in response, and challenged him to walk the path of right, rather than safety. He realized he was more proud of his son than ever before.
"If I cannot persuade you to return with me, Meriadoc, I suppose I shall have no choice but to accompany you to Bree," he said slowly. "For I will not end this day without you at my side, one way or another."
Father and son hugged each other then, words no longer being necessary. Bilbo smiled to himself, pleased with the resolution. Merry was growing up before his father's very eyes, and Saradoc had now seen the truth of the matter. He felt almost uncomfortable witnessing such a pivotal moment in the relationship of father and son.
Bilbo cleared his throat and leaned on his walking stick. "We had best be on our way, had we not?" The gentle prodding brought the other two back to the task at hand and they broke away, smiling at each other.
The pony was laden with packs and Merry took the reins to lead him. The three hobbits continued toward the town of Bree as the afternoon wore away toward evening.
~*~Aiden's home, Bree, late afternoon~*~
Frodo had been reading before the fire, and had fallen asleep on the sofa. Aiden slipped out of the room quietly, walking into the room where the small trunk sat against the wall. He opened it again, and began to remove items as he worked his way toward the bottom. When he reached the box, still wrapped in paper and tied simply with twine, he stopped.
Frodo had said that among his people it was the one celebrating his birthday who gave the gifts, but Frodo was not among his own people. Rather, he was a distance from home, alone save for the company of a single man, who knew little of his customs despite being on good terms with the Shire Folk in general. The tween had nothing to his name in this foreign place, brought here unwilling as he was.
Aiden drew the small box out of the trunk. It had been intended as a gift for Callen, but the Fever had struck before it could be given to the lad. In his grief, Aiden had packed it away with the child's other belongings, and only now had it come to mind again.
He replaced the other items in the trunk and locked it, then took the box out into the parlor and laid it upon a table. As he placed another log upon the fire, Frodo woke with a start.
"Oh, I must have nodded off," he said, yawning. Frodo sat up and stretched as Aiden seated himself in a chair nearby.
"I'm glad you're awake, Frodo. I have something for you." Aiden lifted the box from the table and held it out to Frodo, who looked at him curiously.
"But you don't have to give me anything," he replied, smiling. "Or is it your birthday too?"
Aiden laughed at the remark. "No, Frodo. It is not my birthday today. Since you are among my folk at this time, I merely thought it appropriate that I should observe my own custom as always. Besides, I think you will put this to good use."
Frodo took the box from his hands with care, and perhaps some hesitation. He certainly didn't wish to offend this kind man by refusing his gift, but he felt he had accepted much from Aiden as it was.
"Go ahead and open it," Aiden prompted him.
Frodo pulled carefully at the twine around the box. As the paper came away and he opened the package, his eyes lit with joy. "Oh, it's wonderful," he cried as he held up the thick woolen cloak. It was a fine forest green shade, and the fabric was sturdy. He stood and wrapped it around him experimentally, and found it to be the correct size.
Before he could blink, Aiden found his arms full of hobbit as Frodo hugged him. "Thank you, Aiden. I shall treasure it," Frodo told him, hugging him like a lifelong friend.
"I am glad it suits you," he replied, returning the hug. Aiden found himself wondering if any of Frodo's family had come to look for him yet. If by any chance they had learned of the treachery of the lads who were responsible for Frodo's adventure, they should be arriving in Bree soon to find him and take him home.
He realized he would miss his young friend when that time came. Even so, Frodo was of the Shire and belonged there, among his own. It would be enough to have known the remarkable lad for the short time they'd had. Seeing the happiness in Frodo's face on this day confirmed that he regretted not a single one of the coins he had parted with to save him, for a being of light such as this was well worth saving.
~*~The Inn of the Prancing Pony, Bree~*~
"'Bout time you showed up," the scruffy man growled. That stupid dolt of an innkeeper was unreliable at best when it came to delivering messages. It was surprising these two had even gotten word that he wanted to meet with them.
"Patience, friend," Dolan said evenly. "You said you had a business proposition to discuss?" He and Fergus seated themselves at the small table in the corner.
"That fancy fella what bought that halfling offa you boys. I seen him in the market with the little imp, just walkin' by his side, pretty as you please." The man gave them a sour look and continued. "That little thing shoulda been mine, but that smart - mouth merchant stuck his nose in."
"That's business, me friend," Fergus replied. "Sold t' the highest bidder, fair enough."
"I still want that halfling, and I'll pay you good to help me get him." The scruffy man proposed. "I know where that fella lives."
Dolan found himself mentally recoiling from the situation. He was a traveling trader, not a kidnapper for hire. It had been enough trouble keeping that halfling under wraps as it was, and he was actually glad to have washed his hands of the whole thing. He now had enough coin laid away to last him through the winter months. He didn't need to risk being arrested and locked away for criminal activity.
Fergus seemed to be considering. "What's yer offer then?"
"Fifteen gold pieces each." The man glared across the table at Dolan and Fergus.
"Gonna cost ye at least twenty each fer that kind o' work," Fergus replied dismissively. There was no way he was going to go into a man's home and risk being killed or wounded in an attempt to kidnap a halfling without being paid a decent fee for it.
"What do you mean 'each'?" Dolan asked, his eyebrows rising. "I'm not getting involved in any break - ins or kidnappings. I've got myself settled for the winter, and I'm not going to risk it."
Fergus was taken aback. He looked surprised, then angry. "Ye mean yer not in? Yer goin' to sit back on yer happy arse an' refuse a chance at a little extra?" What was the matter with the man? He might have enough to last the winter, but what about enough to actually enjoy it?
"That's right," Dolan answered, downing a swallow of ale. "It was a hindrance taking on that halfling to begin with." He turned to Fergus and spoke pointedly. "I'm a trader, Fergus. Not a kidnapper."
"I was right then, wasn't I?" Fergus smirked nastily. "Ye were goin' sweet on that lil' thing. Ye got a likin' fer halflings, Dolan?" The suggestion was accompanied by a wolfish grin.
"Bastard!" Dolan spat. "You're so stupid, Fergus. You've got enough money to set yourself up for the winter, but you want more. You willing to risk spending the winter in lockup?" He slammed his tankard down against the table. "That's your business."
The scruffy man who had made the offer was watching them with something rather like amusement as they argued. He didn't care if they came to blows or if they kissed and made up later, as long as they helped him get what he was after.
"Yer a bleedin' coward, Dolan," Fergus accused. "Always knew it, I did. Ye don't want any part of it? Well that's dandy wi' me."
"Call me what you will, Fergus," Dolan growled, "but don't call me when that fella rams a knife into your gut for breaking into his home."
Fergus had imbibed enough ale and heard enough talk. He rose from the table and swung at Dolan, catching him in the jaw with a solid roundhouse punch. Dolan got to his feet slowly, rubbing his jaw. In a swift motion, he grabbed Fergus by his collar and slammed him into the wall.
"You're on your own, Fergus. Good luck. I hope that merchant cuts your heart out." He let go, then turned and stalked out of the common room.
Brushing himself off and gathering his composure, Fergus turned back to the man at the table. "Fine thing, when ye learn who yer friends are." He seated himself at the table again. "What's yer name, friend?"
"You can call me Gavin," the man said. Gavin and Fergus shook hands.
~*~To be continued~*~