Peony - Thank you for your very kind words regarding my stories! I hope you like this one just as much as the others.
Gayalondiel - I'm having a lot of fun writing the S - Bs in this fic. They're just so snarky, they're irresistible. Lotho's relationship with his folks does seem quite a bit like Draco Malfoy's in the Harry Potter series, doesn't it? Lotho is allowed to be stuck - up and snotty, and is practically encouraged in his behavior, particularly by Lobelia.
Endymion - Poor Bilbo would do well to just avoid the S - Bs altogether. I have a feeling that even he couldn't get away with that due to the rules and expectations of hobbit society. He has my heartfelt sympathy!
Kete - My Lotho isn't going to be quite the same kind of evil as yours, but he is most definitely and sneaky cretin!
LotRseer3350 - It's true that Lotho found out about Bilbo's plans in a way that was true to his character. You'll find that Lotho is very sneaky and self - serving in this story, and stooping low enough to read Bilbo's journal is just like him in every way.
GamgeeFest - Frodo is in for a bit of a time, absolutely. Bilbo and Sam will be a great help and comfort to him in days to come. Bilbo was wise to hide the silver, wasn't he? Too bad he forgot about his journal!
Midgette - How bad is what Lotho's got planned? Wait and see! Lotho is very opportunistic, and he will jump at any chance to pull something nasty.
Bookworm2000 - Bilbo's ear twitching was inspired by the bit in the extended version of FOTR. I just loved that in the film. There will be some more Frodo and Sam interaction to come as they get to know each other a little better.
Pebbles - You dislike Lotho already? You are not alone!
Aratlithiel - You summarized everyone's demeanor perfectly. Lotho is sneaky, Lobelia is snooty, Frodo is a bit uncertain, and Bilbo is reassuring. Thank you for your kind comments and for being such a great beta!
FrodoBaggins1982 - Frodo is doing well at being a young gentlehobbit, isn't he? Such a nice lad! We'll get him dressed up properly in time for the Yule party. Poor Bilbo. Believe me, he would much rather have sent Frodo in to keep an eye on Lotho. The only thing that might have kept him from doing it is that it would have been rather rude, and Bilbo does want to show Frodo a good example. He doesn't care if the S - B's are offended. And, he was obeying the author's demand to let something happen to set up the rest of the story. ~winks~
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 3 - Playing Games
Bilbo closed his eyes wearily and exhaled forcefully, his heavy sigh carrying far enough down the hallway for Frodo to hear it. The tween peeked out around the edge of the doorway of his room and smiled. "Relieved?"
"Greatly," Bilbo replied, throwing a sharp glance at the door he had just ushered the Sackville - Bagginses through. "My deepest apologies, Frodo lad. They were every bit as dreadful as I was expecting them to be."
"It wasn't so awful, really," Frodo answered as he shook out his weskit and folded it carefully. "There are worse things than being verbally skewered by one's relations." Frodo's tone was serious as he spoke. He knew full well what some of those things were, and the Sackville - Bagginses didn't seem so terrible when set against them.
"Let us not dwell on them, dear boy," Bilbo said kindly. "There has been enough unpleasantness today without our bringing forth more from memory."
"Agreed," Frodo answered, thinking back on the conversation that afternoon. "Did Lotho really have Southfarthing Spotted Fever?"
Bilbo's expression brightened. "Oh, indeed he did, Frodo. An impressive case of it too, I might add." Bilbo leaned in with a conspiratorial wink. "He was covered in spots as red as a dragon's eyes, from head to toe, all itching and burning like fury."
Frodo laughed outright at the mental picture. Most hobbits had a bout with the illness early in life, and weren't troubled by it after. It seemed to be a little easier on its younger victims for some reason, and those who had the misfortune to contract it as tweens usually suffered more than the younger ones. Frodo was willing to bet some of the swagger was taken out of his haughty cousin by having a face full of itchy red splotches!
"The next time Lotho is being bothersome, I shall picture him as you've described him," Frodo said when he regained his composure. "I guarantee that I shall keep smiling, regardless of anything he says."
"Ahh, Frodo, it does an old hobbit good to laugh," Bilbo said as he hugged Frodo. "This day has been draining," he said at length. "I believe I'll indulge in a nap before dinner, if you don't mind."
"Not at all, Uncle." Frodo stepped out of his room and into the hallway. "I'll take care of the dishes while you rest."
"Such a good lad," Bilbo said proudly, as he wandered off toward his own room. It might not be a bad thing to have someone young and energetic about to help with a task or two.
Having put aside his best attire for something more suited to housework, Frodo stepped into the kitchen to see to the dishes. It didn't take him very long to have them washed up and stowed neatly in the cupboards, and he wondered how else he might occupy himself while Bilbo napped.
He wandered idly down the hall again, passing by Bilbo's study as he did. A quick glance inside decided him regarding how to pass the next hour. The study was, quite simply, a disaster. Books and maps lay strewn about, quills and pages of parchment sat jumbled together upon the writing desk. How in the Shire did Bilbo find anything amid such disarray?
Frodo set to work with energy, straightening and dusting, filing books away upon the shelves by subject matter and author. Bilbo's journal lay on the writing desk and Frodo closed it quickly without looking at the page. He doubted very much that Bilbo had meant to leave it lying open, and he felt no temptation to see what private musings the book held.
Before long, the maps were smoothed flat and stacked upon a shelf, the quills placed beside the inkstand. He was just finishing sweeping the small hearth when a surprised intake of breath from the vicinity of the doorway startled him from his task.
"Uncle! Did you have a good rest?" Frodo asked solicitously as he leaned the broom in the corner of the room.
"Oh. Ah, yes, Frodo," Bilbo stammered, trying to keep his dismay hidden from the tween who had clearly meant to do him a good turn. "Quite a fine rest indeed. I see you've kept busy."
"Oh, yes, Uncle. Just tidying up a bit." Frodo shook his head and smiled. "I don't know how you managed to get any work done with all those maps and books lying about everywhere, but they've been put to rights now."
"Um, yes. So I see," Bilbo said, wondering how long it would take him to find items he had known the precise location of only an hour before. He supposed the study might have looked a mess to the untrained eye of the well - meaning tween, but he had known his way around the piles of maps and stacks of books as surely as if he were walking a road clearly marked. But now -
Frodo was looking at him expectantly, and Bilbo cleared his throat and smiled warmly. "Thank you, Frodo. It was a lovely gesture, cleaning up after a slovenly old hobbit like myself." He mustn't let Frodo know of his dismay. After all, the boy had not meant to cause him any consternation. Bilbo opted for applying humor to the situation. "But I fear I shall be requiring more of your time from now on, for I'll not have a notion where to locate particular items. I shall have to ask the help of my personal assistant," he said, letting his eyes come back to rest upon Frodo.
"I suppose I have interfered with the normal state of affairs," the young hobbit said, looking abashed. "Please forgive me, Uncle. I meant no harm."
"Of course you didn't, dear boy," Bilbo said soothingly. "And it does look quite nice, now that I stop to think of it." He was being quite truthful with the lad. The study did indeed look far better than it had in many months. Bilbo doubted he had seen as much of the surface of his writing desk since last Yule.
"Not to worry, Frodo. Thank you for tidying up. I was just a little surprised, nothing more." Bilbo guided the youth toward the parlor. "Why don't you look over your next lesson while I prepare dinner?" Frodo nodded, and they settled in for a quiet evening in the wake of the tumultuous afternoon.
~*~
Lotho glared down into his tankard as he and Ted Sandyman sat by the fire at the Green Dragon. He'd felt far too agitated to spend the evening at home, listening to his parents grouse about Bilbo Baggins and his houseguest. He had been tempted to tell them what he knew of the old hobbit's plans, but he held back.
If he mentioned it to his parents, Lobelia would fly into a rage and simply give old Bilbo an earful of venom. It wouldn't change things a whit, either. Lotho considered his father. Otho would likely stew in silence, letting the matter weigh him down and rob him of sleep. Again, no solution.
If Lotho was going to take matters into his own hands, it was best that he kept what he knew largely to himself, with the possible exception of a few individuals who might be helpful. One of those individuals sat across from him now, listening to the tale of the afternoon's events.
"Your cousin, you say?" Ted Sandyman, the miller's son, questioned Lotho.
"Yes, third cousin or something incredibly useful like that," Lotho replied disdainfully. "He's more Brandybuck than Baggins, if you ask me, coming straight out of Buckland as he has. He's a skinny, pale little orphan, and doesn't even have proper attire to wear to tea with the gentry." How insulting it was that Bilbo would choose such a creature to inherit his wealth and home!
"The old hobbit is entertaining the absurd notion of adopting the little twit, and leaving all his wealth to him in the process!" Lotho sneered angrily at the thought. "Imagine, that little underfed cousin of mine living it up in the finest dwelling in Hobbiton. The thought makes my stomach turn."
"Well, that doesn't sound like a very good thing for you," Ted said by way of understatement. "Guess you'll just have to wait and see what the old coot decides to do."
"I'm not waiting for anything, Ted," Lotho spat angrily. "That Bucklander needs to go back where he came from, and he will if I have anything to do with it." Lotho downed another swallow of ale as he considered how to go about getting rid of Frodo Baggins. "I have six months to convince him that Hobbiton is not the place for him, and I might need your help from time to time."
Ted nodded. If Lotho were to inherit Bilbo's wealth, surely he would remember his old friend Ted Sandyman. "What's your plan?" Ted inquired as he swigged his ale.
Lotho smiled, a predatory expression rather than one of mirth. He leaned across the table and the two sat whispering for the next hour, plotting the best course of action. One thing was certain, Lotho determined gravely. That little cousin of his had better watch out. After all, accidents could happen.
~*~The next day~*~
Frodo sat down on a bench in the garden, enjoying the afternoon sunshine. The warm days would not linger long, as winter was fast approaching. It was only a month and a half until Yule, after all. He wondered what this part of the Shire would look like covered in snow. He could imagine waking to a perfect blanket of sparkling white, lying cold and crisp over the hills and lanes.
A red and gold leaf fell silently at his feet, and Frodo picked it up to examine it. A voice near him shook him from his reverie. "It's a fine old tree, isn't it, Mr. Frodo?" Young Samwise Gamgee pointed at the huge tree that grew atop the Hill. "It's been there as long as anyone hereabouts can remember, and it'll be there when I'm as old as me Gaffer." He spoke with a kind of reverence and awe that was the hallmark of a dedicated gardener.
"I daresay it will, Samwise," Frodo answered, still turning the leaf over in his hands. He pondered the old expression about turning over a new leaf. New beginnings. The leaf in his palm was the remnant of former glory, fallen away in preparation for the new leaves to come when spring arrived. What new things awaited him, Frodo wondered as he examined the leaf. He sighed as he let the breeze lift the leaf from his hand and carry it away across the garden.
Sam resumed raking, piling the many fallen leaves up at his feet. He was working alone in the garden that afternoon, Frodo noted.
"Where is Master Hamfast? Is he unwell?" Frodo asked cautiously. If something were amiss it may not be his affair, and he didn't wish to pry.
"Oh, he's fine, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied lightly, still raking away diligently. "His joints been botherin' him somethin' mighty of late, with winter comin' on and all."
Frodo looked around for another rake, but no other gardening implements lay within reach. "If you have another rake, I'd be happy to help you, Samwise," Frodo said quietly. He wouldn't mind the company as Sam was a pleasant lad, but he didn't wish to be a distraction. Perhaps he could help as they talked.
Sam was looking at Frodo with a strange expression on his freckled face. "Help me, Mr. Frodo? Oh, but beggin' your pardon, sir. That wouldn't be proper, you being Mr. Bilbo's kin."
Frodo was rather taken aback by Sam's statement, as he was still in the mindset of Brandy Hall, where a rake would wind up in the hands of the Master's son as readily as the hands of an apprentice from Frogmorton. "Oh, please forgive me Samwise," Frodo said, blushing. "I suppose I'm still adjusting to the notions of what is and isn't proper behavior for a gentlehobbit." He sighed and resumed his seat on the bench. "In Buckland, everyone is expected to pull his own weight, and one's family name typically doesn't save his hands from a bit of physical labor."
"You can call me Sam, Mr. Frodo," the younger hobbit said, trying to ease the tension. "I do hear tell they do things different out in Buckland." Sam looked at Frodo a little disbelievingly and said, "Is it true that hobbits in Buckland like to swim?"
Frodo smiled. "We do learn to swim, generally," he said, thinking about his own experience with the activity. "It's wise, with Brandy Hall being so near the Brandywine River. My cousin taught me, and it can be rather refreshing on hot days."
"I can't swim, and I don't go in the water any deeper than the bath, nohow," Sam said, shaking his head. "There's not a great deal of water hereabouts that's deep enough to swim in as it is. There's the pond by Sandyman's mill, and another one off beyond that hill over there." He pointed at a sizeable hill about a quarter mile away from Bag End.
"Not to worry, Sam," Frodo assured him. "If you've naught to swim in, why trouble yourself with learning how?" He smiled as he made a suggestion. "I could show you if you ever want to try."
Sam smiled back but shook his head emphatically. "No, thank you, Mr. Frodo. I'll stick to the earth under me feet, as I won't be sinkin' in it, like as not." Sam seemed to be a friendly lad, and Frodo was glad to have met him. He had not had much time for making friends as yet, and he was glad of a friendly person to talk to. Even so, Sam obviously had work to do, and Frodo didn't want to keep him with idle banter.
"When you see Uncle Bilbo, will you tell him I've gone for a walk? I'm going to do a little exploring for a while," Frodo said, looking at the path beyond the gate. Sam nodded, and Frodo bade him farewell with a smile and a wave.
Frodo's feet crunched on the dry leaves as he followed the path that led into the heart of Hobbiton. A flock of geese flew above him noisily, seeking the warmer southern climate, and he could hear the sound of voices raised in laughter and shouts of challenge nearby as some young hobbits engaged in a game of some sort.
As Frodo rounded a bend in the path, the players came into view. A group of hobbits, mostly tweenage lads, were playing a game with a ball. They were running, laughing and roughhousing, and generally having a good time. Frodo paused to watch and was startled to hear someone calling his name.
"Frodo! Hey, everyone, it's my cousin Frodo, visiting from Buckland." Lotho called out, gesturing toward where Frodo stood on the path. "Come and join us, Cousin."
Lotho seemed friendlier today, Frodo thought. Had he just been out of sorts at tea the day before? One mustn't judge another merely upon a first impression, Frodo reminded himself, and acknowledged Lotho's summons with a wave. "What are you doing?" he asked curiously.
"It's a game we like to play sometimes," Lotho explained. "We don't usually let the younger lads play because it can get a little rough, but you're big enough to handle it, I'll warrant." Lotho again looked Frodo up and down, measuring, calculating. "You split into teams and each team tries to get the ball to the goal without dropping it. You can throw it or hand it to a teammate, and the other team tries to intercept it or knock it out of your hands before you can throw it. If you drop it, the ball goes to the other team."
The game sounded simple enough, and the other lads were having a lot of fun. "You can join my team," Lotho suggested. "Togo was just about to leave, so that will make us even."
"All right, I'll have a go at it," Frodo said gamely. He positioned himself among the other members of the team as play began, and before long he was quite involved in the game. He caught and passed the ball quickly and accurately, even scoring a point or two himself.
The ball passed to the other team, and they readied their offense as Frodo and Lotho stood waiting. A lad on the other team put the ball in play with a sturdy throw, and the young hobbits moved it down the field of play little by little. A stout lad with auburn hair and freckles chanced a long, hard throw downfield toward a teammate, and Frodo moved to intercept. Lotho noted his cousin's direction, and that Frodo's eyes were on the ball and nowhere else. Perfect.
As the ball came down, Lotho made a show of looking up at it and running backwards with his hands stretched out toward it. He knew Frodo was running forward toward it as well, and if he got his position just right -
Wham! As Lotho propelled himself backward and Frodo came forward, the two collided violently and ended up in a pile of arms and legs on the ground. Frodo, being smaller, got the worst of it as he lay winded and gasping under Lotho's weight.
"Frodo, forgive me," Lotho said as he dusted himself off. "I didn't know you were there, Cousin."
Frodo tried to frame a reply, but the air had been forced from his lungs by the impact. His ribs felt like a troll had stepped on them, and he struggled to raise himself into a sitting position. "I'm all right, Lotho," he said between gasps. "I just need to catch my breath."
Lotho extended a hand and pulled Frodo to his feet. "Perhaps you should sit this round out, Frodo," he suggested. "You look a little pale, if you don't mind my saying so."
Frodo cringed as Lotho pulled him upward. That was a hard hit, he realized, and he felt a little dizzy. His side ached terribly from the blow, and each breath brought a stab of pain. "I think you're quite right, Lotho. I think I'm out of the game," Frodo acknowledged. He shook hands with the other youths and waved gingerly as he turned to walk back up the path to Bag End.
Lotho grinned. He didn't know if he'd hit Frodo hard enough to crack any ribs, but the little Bucklander would surely have an enormous bruise and some soreness from the encounter. He wondered what the Master of Buckland would have to say when he got word of these little accidents in the months to come. Surely he'd be checking up on Frodo to see how he was faring. How fit a guardian could old Bilbo be, allowing his young charge to get himself hurt all the time? Yes, Frodo Baggins would not be long in Hobbiton, Lotho was certain. He went back to the game with energy, almost wishing that Frodo had not been finished off with one hit. Still, he doubted if the same trick would work twice in one day.
~*~To be continued~*~
Gayalondiel - I'm having a lot of fun writing the S - Bs in this fic. They're just so snarky, they're irresistible. Lotho's relationship with his folks does seem quite a bit like Draco Malfoy's in the Harry Potter series, doesn't it? Lotho is allowed to be stuck - up and snotty, and is practically encouraged in his behavior, particularly by Lobelia.
Endymion - Poor Bilbo would do well to just avoid the S - Bs altogether. I have a feeling that even he couldn't get away with that due to the rules and expectations of hobbit society. He has my heartfelt sympathy!
Kete - My Lotho isn't going to be quite the same kind of evil as yours, but he is most definitely and sneaky cretin!
LotRseer3350 - It's true that Lotho found out about Bilbo's plans in a way that was true to his character. You'll find that Lotho is very sneaky and self - serving in this story, and stooping low enough to read Bilbo's journal is just like him in every way.
GamgeeFest - Frodo is in for a bit of a time, absolutely. Bilbo and Sam will be a great help and comfort to him in days to come. Bilbo was wise to hide the silver, wasn't he? Too bad he forgot about his journal!
Midgette - How bad is what Lotho's got planned? Wait and see! Lotho is very opportunistic, and he will jump at any chance to pull something nasty.
Bookworm2000 - Bilbo's ear twitching was inspired by the bit in the extended version of FOTR. I just loved that in the film. There will be some more Frodo and Sam interaction to come as they get to know each other a little better.
Pebbles - You dislike Lotho already? You are not alone!
Aratlithiel - You summarized everyone's demeanor perfectly. Lotho is sneaky, Lobelia is snooty, Frodo is a bit uncertain, and Bilbo is reassuring. Thank you for your kind comments and for being such a great beta!
FrodoBaggins1982 - Frodo is doing well at being a young gentlehobbit, isn't he? Such a nice lad! We'll get him dressed up properly in time for the Yule party. Poor Bilbo. Believe me, he would much rather have sent Frodo in to keep an eye on Lotho. The only thing that might have kept him from doing it is that it would have been rather rude, and Bilbo does want to show Frodo a good example. He doesn't care if the S - B's are offended. And, he was obeying the author's demand to let something happen to set up the rest of the story. ~winks~
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 3 - Playing Games
Bilbo closed his eyes wearily and exhaled forcefully, his heavy sigh carrying far enough down the hallway for Frodo to hear it. The tween peeked out around the edge of the doorway of his room and smiled. "Relieved?"
"Greatly," Bilbo replied, throwing a sharp glance at the door he had just ushered the Sackville - Bagginses through. "My deepest apologies, Frodo lad. They were every bit as dreadful as I was expecting them to be."
"It wasn't so awful, really," Frodo answered as he shook out his weskit and folded it carefully. "There are worse things than being verbally skewered by one's relations." Frodo's tone was serious as he spoke. He knew full well what some of those things were, and the Sackville - Bagginses didn't seem so terrible when set against them.
"Let us not dwell on them, dear boy," Bilbo said kindly. "There has been enough unpleasantness today without our bringing forth more from memory."
"Agreed," Frodo answered, thinking back on the conversation that afternoon. "Did Lotho really have Southfarthing Spotted Fever?"
Bilbo's expression brightened. "Oh, indeed he did, Frodo. An impressive case of it too, I might add." Bilbo leaned in with a conspiratorial wink. "He was covered in spots as red as a dragon's eyes, from head to toe, all itching and burning like fury."
Frodo laughed outright at the mental picture. Most hobbits had a bout with the illness early in life, and weren't troubled by it after. It seemed to be a little easier on its younger victims for some reason, and those who had the misfortune to contract it as tweens usually suffered more than the younger ones. Frodo was willing to bet some of the swagger was taken out of his haughty cousin by having a face full of itchy red splotches!
"The next time Lotho is being bothersome, I shall picture him as you've described him," Frodo said when he regained his composure. "I guarantee that I shall keep smiling, regardless of anything he says."
"Ahh, Frodo, it does an old hobbit good to laugh," Bilbo said as he hugged Frodo. "This day has been draining," he said at length. "I believe I'll indulge in a nap before dinner, if you don't mind."
"Not at all, Uncle." Frodo stepped out of his room and into the hallway. "I'll take care of the dishes while you rest."
"Such a good lad," Bilbo said proudly, as he wandered off toward his own room. It might not be a bad thing to have someone young and energetic about to help with a task or two.
Having put aside his best attire for something more suited to housework, Frodo stepped into the kitchen to see to the dishes. It didn't take him very long to have them washed up and stowed neatly in the cupboards, and he wondered how else he might occupy himself while Bilbo napped.
He wandered idly down the hall again, passing by Bilbo's study as he did. A quick glance inside decided him regarding how to pass the next hour. The study was, quite simply, a disaster. Books and maps lay strewn about, quills and pages of parchment sat jumbled together upon the writing desk. How in the Shire did Bilbo find anything amid such disarray?
Frodo set to work with energy, straightening and dusting, filing books away upon the shelves by subject matter and author. Bilbo's journal lay on the writing desk and Frodo closed it quickly without looking at the page. He doubted very much that Bilbo had meant to leave it lying open, and he felt no temptation to see what private musings the book held.
Before long, the maps were smoothed flat and stacked upon a shelf, the quills placed beside the inkstand. He was just finishing sweeping the small hearth when a surprised intake of breath from the vicinity of the doorway startled him from his task.
"Uncle! Did you have a good rest?" Frodo asked solicitously as he leaned the broom in the corner of the room.
"Oh. Ah, yes, Frodo," Bilbo stammered, trying to keep his dismay hidden from the tween who had clearly meant to do him a good turn. "Quite a fine rest indeed. I see you've kept busy."
"Oh, yes, Uncle. Just tidying up a bit." Frodo shook his head and smiled. "I don't know how you managed to get any work done with all those maps and books lying about everywhere, but they've been put to rights now."
"Um, yes. So I see," Bilbo said, wondering how long it would take him to find items he had known the precise location of only an hour before. He supposed the study might have looked a mess to the untrained eye of the well - meaning tween, but he had known his way around the piles of maps and stacks of books as surely as if he were walking a road clearly marked. But now -
Frodo was looking at him expectantly, and Bilbo cleared his throat and smiled warmly. "Thank you, Frodo. It was a lovely gesture, cleaning up after a slovenly old hobbit like myself." He mustn't let Frodo know of his dismay. After all, the boy had not meant to cause him any consternation. Bilbo opted for applying humor to the situation. "But I fear I shall be requiring more of your time from now on, for I'll not have a notion where to locate particular items. I shall have to ask the help of my personal assistant," he said, letting his eyes come back to rest upon Frodo.
"I suppose I have interfered with the normal state of affairs," the young hobbit said, looking abashed. "Please forgive me, Uncle. I meant no harm."
"Of course you didn't, dear boy," Bilbo said soothingly. "And it does look quite nice, now that I stop to think of it." He was being quite truthful with the lad. The study did indeed look far better than it had in many months. Bilbo doubted he had seen as much of the surface of his writing desk since last Yule.
"Not to worry, Frodo. Thank you for tidying up. I was just a little surprised, nothing more." Bilbo guided the youth toward the parlor. "Why don't you look over your next lesson while I prepare dinner?" Frodo nodded, and they settled in for a quiet evening in the wake of the tumultuous afternoon.
~*~
Lotho glared down into his tankard as he and Ted Sandyman sat by the fire at the Green Dragon. He'd felt far too agitated to spend the evening at home, listening to his parents grouse about Bilbo Baggins and his houseguest. He had been tempted to tell them what he knew of the old hobbit's plans, but he held back.
If he mentioned it to his parents, Lobelia would fly into a rage and simply give old Bilbo an earful of venom. It wouldn't change things a whit, either. Lotho considered his father. Otho would likely stew in silence, letting the matter weigh him down and rob him of sleep. Again, no solution.
If Lotho was going to take matters into his own hands, it was best that he kept what he knew largely to himself, with the possible exception of a few individuals who might be helpful. One of those individuals sat across from him now, listening to the tale of the afternoon's events.
"Your cousin, you say?" Ted Sandyman, the miller's son, questioned Lotho.
"Yes, third cousin or something incredibly useful like that," Lotho replied disdainfully. "He's more Brandybuck than Baggins, if you ask me, coming straight out of Buckland as he has. He's a skinny, pale little orphan, and doesn't even have proper attire to wear to tea with the gentry." How insulting it was that Bilbo would choose such a creature to inherit his wealth and home!
"The old hobbit is entertaining the absurd notion of adopting the little twit, and leaving all his wealth to him in the process!" Lotho sneered angrily at the thought. "Imagine, that little underfed cousin of mine living it up in the finest dwelling in Hobbiton. The thought makes my stomach turn."
"Well, that doesn't sound like a very good thing for you," Ted said by way of understatement. "Guess you'll just have to wait and see what the old coot decides to do."
"I'm not waiting for anything, Ted," Lotho spat angrily. "That Bucklander needs to go back where he came from, and he will if I have anything to do with it." Lotho downed another swallow of ale as he considered how to go about getting rid of Frodo Baggins. "I have six months to convince him that Hobbiton is not the place for him, and I might need your help from time to time."
Ted nodded. If Lotho were to inherit Bilbo's wealth, surely he would remember his old friend Ted Sandyman. "What's your plan?" Ted inquired as he swigged his ale.
Lotho smiled, a predatory expression rather than one of mirth. He leaned across the table and the two sat whispering for the next hour, plotting the best course of action. One thing was certain, Lotho determined gravely. That little cousin of his had better watch out. After all, accidents could happen.
~*~The next day~*~
Frodo sat down on a bench in the garden, enjoying the afternoon sunshine. The warm days would not linger long, as winter was fast approaching. It was only a month and a half until Yule, after all. He wondered what this part of the Shire would look like covered in snow. He could imagine waking to a perfect blanket of sparkling white, lying cold and crisp over the hills and lanes.
A red and gold leaf fell silently at his feet, and Frodo picked it up to examine it. A voice near him shook him from his reverie. "It's a fine old tree, isn't it, Mr. Frodo?" Young Samwise Gamgee pointed at the huge tree that grew atop the Hill. "It's been there as long as anyone hereabouts can remember, and it'll be there when I'm as old as me Gaffer." He spoke with a kind of reverence and awe that was the hallmark of a dedicated gardener.
"I daresay it will, Samwise," Frodo answered, still turning the leaf over in his hands. He pondered the old expression about turning over a new leaf. New beginnings. The leaf in his palm was the remnant of former glory, fallen away in preparation for the new leaves to come when spring arrived. What new things awaited him, Frodo wondered as he examined the leaf. He sighed as he let the breeze lift the leaf from his hand and carry it away across the garden.
Sam resumed raking, piling the many fallen leaves up at his feet. He was working alone in the garden that afternoon, Frodo noted.
"Where is Master Hamfast? Is he unwell?" Frodo asked cautiously. If something were amiss it may not be his affair, and he didn't wish to pry.
"Oh, he's fine, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied lightly, still raking away diligently. "His joints been botherin' him somethin' mighty of late, with winter comin' on and all."
Frodo looked around for another rake, but no other gardening implements lay within reach. "If you have another rake, I'd be happy to help you, Samwise," Frodo said quietly. He wouldn't mind the company as Sam was a pleasant lad, but he didn't wish to be a distraction. Perhaps he could help as they talked.
Sam was looking at Frodo with a strange expression on his freckled face. "Help me, Mr. Frodo? Oh, but beggin' your pardon, sir. That wouldn't be proper, you being Mr. Bilbo's kin."
Frodo was rather taken aback by Sam's statement, as he was still in the mindset of Brandy Hall, where a rake would wind up in the hands of the Master's son as readily as the hands of an apprentice from Frogmorton. "Oh, please forgive me Samwise," Frodo said, blushing. "I suppose I'm still adjusting to the notions of what is and isn't proper behavior for a gentlehobbit." He sighed and resumed his seat on the bench. "In Buckland, everyone is expected to pull his own weight, and one's family name typically doesn't save his hands from a bit of physical labor."
"You can call me Sam, Mr. Frodo," the younger hobbit said, trying to ease the tension. "I do hear tell they do things different out in Buckland." Sam looked at Frodo a little disbelievingly and said, "Is it true that hobbits in Buckland like to swim?"
Frodo smiled. "We do learn to swim, generally," he said, thinking about his own experience with the activity. "It's wise, with Brandy Hall being so near the Brandywine River. My cousin taught me, and it can be rather refreshing on hot days."
"I can't swim, and I don't go in the water any deeper than the bath, nohow," Sam said, shaking his head. "There's not a great deal of water hereabouts that's deep enough to swim in as it is. There's the pond by Sandyman's mill, and another one off beyond that hill over there." He pointed at a sizeable hill about a quarter mile away from Bag End.
"Not to worry, Sam," Frodo assured him. "If you've naught to swim in, why trouble yourself with learning how?" He smiled as he made a suggestion. "I could show you if you ever want to try."
Sam smiled back but shook his head emphatically. "No, thank you, Mr. Frodo. I'll stick to the earth under me feet, as I won't be sinkin' in it, like as not." Sam seemed to be a friendly lad, and Frodo was glad to have met him. He had not had much time for making friends as yet, and he was glad of a friendly person to talk to. Even so, Sam obviously had work to do, and Frodo didn't want to keep him with idle banter.
"When you see Uncle Bilbo, will you tell him I've gone for a walk? I'm going to do a little exploring for a while," Frodo said, looking at the path beyond the gate. Sam nodded, and Frodo bade him farewell with a smile and a wave.
Frodo's feet crunched on the dry leaves as he followed the path that led into the heart of Hobbiton. A flock of geese flew above him noisily, seeking the warmer southern climate, and he could hear the sound of voices raised in laughter and shouts of challenge nearby as some young hobbits engaged in a game of some sort.
As Frodo rounded a bend in the path, the players came into view. A group of hobbits, mostly tweenage lads, were playing a game with a ball. They were running, laughing and roughhousing, and generally having a good time. Frodo paused to watch and was startled to hear someone calling his name.
"Frodo! Hey, everyone, it's my cousin Frodo, visiting from Buckland." Lotho called out, gesturing toward where Frodo stood on the path. "Come and join us, Cousin."
Lotho seemed friendlier today, Frodo thought. Had he just been out of sorts at tea the day before? One mustn't judge another merely upon a first impression, Frodo reminded himself, and acknowledged Lotho's summons with a wave. "What are you doing?" he asked curiously.
"It's a game we like to play sometimes," Lotho explained. "We don't usually let the younger lads play because it can get a little rough, but you're big enough to handle it, I'll warrant." Lotho again looked Frodo up and down, measuring, calculating. "You split into teams and each team tries to get the ball to the goal without dropping it. You can throw it or hand it to a teammate, and the other team tries to intercept it or knock it out of your hands before you can throw it. If you drop it, the ball goes to the other team."
The game sounded simple enough, and the other lads were having a lot of fun. "You can join my team," Lotho suggested. "Togo was just about to leave, so that will make us even."
"All right, I'll have a go at it," Frodo said gamely. He positioned himself among the other members of the team as play began, and before long he was quite involved in the game. He caught and passed the ball quickly and accurately, even scoring a point or two himself.
The ball passed to the other team, and they readied their offense as Frodo and Lotho stood waiting. A lad on the other team put the ball in play with a sturdy throw, and the young hobbits moved it down the field of play little by little. A stout lad with auburn hair and freckles chanced a long, hard throw downfield toward a teammate, and Frodo moved to intercept. Lotho noted his cousin's direction, and that Frodo's eyes were on the ball and nowhere else. Perfect.
As the ball came down, Lotho made a show of looking up at it and running backwards with his hands stretched out toward it. He knew Frodo was running forward toward it as well, and if he got his position just right -
Wham! As Lotho propelled himself backward and Frodo came forward, the two collided violently and ended up in a pile of arms and legs on the ground. Frodo, being smaller, got the worst of it as he lay winded and gasping under Lotho's weight.
"Frodo, forgive me," Lotho said as he dusted himself off. "I didn't know you were there, Cousin."
Frodo tried to frame a reply, but the air had been forced from his lungs by the impact. His ribs felt like a troll had stepped on them, and he struggled to raise himself into a sitting position. "I'm all right, Lotho," he said between gasps. "I just need to catch my breath."
Lotho extended a hand and pulled Frodo to his feet. "Perhaps you should sit this round out, Frodo," he suggested. "You look a little pale, if you don't mind my saying so."
Frodo cringed as Lotho pulled him upward. That was a hard hit, he realized, and he felt a little dizzy. His side ached terribly from the blow, and each breath brought a stab of pain. "I think you're quite right, Lotho. I think I'm out of the game," Frodo acknowledged. He shook hands with the other youths and waved gingerly as he turned to walk back up the path to Bag End.
Lotho grinned. He didn't know if he'd hit Frodo hard enough to crack any ribs, but the little Bucklander would surely have an enormous bruise and some soreness from the encounter. He wondered what the Master of Buckland would have to say when he got word of these little accidents in the months to come. Surely he'd be checking up on Frodo to see how he was faring. How fit a guardian could old Bilbo be, allowing his young charge to get himself hurt all the time? Yes, Frodo Baggins would not be long in Hobbiton, Lotho was certain. He went back to the game with energy, almost wishing that Frodo had not been finished off with one hit. Still, he doubted if the same trick would work twice in one day.
~*~To be continued~*~