FrodoBaggins1982 - Lotho knows nothing of how Frodo ended up in Hobbiton, or what it would take to convince Saradoc to take him back to Buckland. He's assuming this will be easy, but I don't think so.
Endymion - "Southfarthing Spotted Fever", or chicken pox to you and me. Frodo is still trying his best to give his cousin the benefit of the doubt, but how long can he go on trying? Bilbo is less easily convinced.
QTPie2488 - Good to see you again! You didn't miss much before you found the story. Lotho is a dirty rat for sure!
Shirebound - Your reviews got through just fine, thank you! Those darn nasty S - B's are still stirring the pot! We'll see how badly Frodo was hurt in that game.
LotRseer3350 - Lotho plays dirty indeed, and this is just the first in a series of nasty tricks!
FantasyFan - I've been quite frustrated with the search problems at ff.net myself. I can't find any of the stories I'm following without a massive effort. Lotho is indeed attacking on two levels, trying to scare Frodo by hurting him and trying to make Bilbo look incompetent. He is just a tween, and thinks like one. Will his plan work? Time will tell!
Tavion - Lotho is definitely a rather cunning sort. He's planning to be a problem for Frodo for sure.
Amelia Rose - If I could get my hands on Lotho, I'd want to teach him a lesson too. Maybe by the end of this fic I'll get the chance to try.
Pebbles - Poor Bilbo will have to gradually re - mess his study again. That was inspired by the scenes in the extended version of FOTR when we can see that Bag End is, well, a mess. If you hate Lotho now, just wait. More tweenage snarkiness to come.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 4 - Showing One's True Colors
Frodo stepped out of his room and padded down the hallway on his way to the kitchen. He walked slowly, trying to look as if nothing pained him, but he bore a large, dark bruise on his side where he and Lotho had collided during the game. It had been a couple of days, and as the time had passed, the bruise became darker and his side more tender. Bilbo would worry and fret if he knew, so Frodo had hidden his discomfort as best he could.
He turned the corner and emerged from the hallway just as Bilbo was coming out of the kitchen, and the two ran right into each other. Frodo gasped and doubled over, nearly falling. Bilbo dropped the stack of linens he had been carrying and caught Frodo in time to keep him from hitting the floor. A look of deep concern and fear was in his eyes.
"Frodo, lad! What's wrong?" Bilbo guided Frodo slowly and carefully to a chair. "Are you ill?"
"No Uncle, just a little sore, I suppose," Frodo said, his hand moving instinctively to his side. "It's nothing, just a minor accident."
Bilbo moved Frodo's hand aside and carefully pulled his shirttails clear of his breeches. He lifted the shirt and exposed a large, nasty bruise over the tween's ribs. It was a horrifying purple against the pale skin, fading to a greenish hue around the edges and was still swollen.
"Stars, lad! How did this happen to you?" Bilbo pulled up a chair for himself and waited for Frodo to explain.
"A game of toss - ball the other day. Lotho and I weren't looking and we ran into each other." Frodo shrugged. It was just one of those things that could happen when a bunch of tweens got together to play a vigorous game.
"You were playing toss - ball with Lotho?" Bilbo's voice betrayed his surprise. He hadn't thought that Lotho would have much to do with Frodo by the cool reception the lad had received from him at tea.
"I went for a walk and saw him playing the game with a group of tweens. He introduced me to them and asked if I wanted to join in." Frodo recalled the rather friendly way Lotho had spoken to him, waving and calling his name like an old friend. "He was being quite pleasant, really."
"So he pleasantly asked you to join in, then ran you down like a herd of oliphaunts a few minutes later?" Bilbo asked, still extremely suspicious of Lotho. Since when was Lotho able to be accused of being friendly or pleasant?
"I don't think he did it on purpose, Uncle," Frodo answered honestly. He really did feel that it had just happened because they were both so intent on catching the ball. "The ball was coming down between us and we both tried to catch it. We ended up colliding with each other instead."
"Well did he at least apologize?" Bilbo grumbled, not willing to accept the idea of a Sackville - Baggins acting like a decent citizen.
"He did indeed," Frodo confirmed. "He helped me up and said he was sorry, Uncle. I'll not hold it against him, although I surely got the worse of it."
"That cannot be disputed." Bilbo stood up. "You just be still while I go and get some ice." Something nagged at the elder hobbit and he stopped to address Frodo again. "Why didn't you mention this when it happened?"
Frodo looked at his toes. Old habits were hard to break. "I didn't want to worry you with it, I suppose." At the look of exasperation on Bilbo's face, he continued, "You have other things on your mind as well, and I didn't think it worth mentioning."
"Not worth mentioning? Lad, if you get a sliver in your finger, I want to know about it." Bilbo's tone was stern, but caring lay in it also. "This isn't Brandy Hall. I don't have fifty other tweens demanding or needing my immediate attention. What matters to me is that you remain safe and happy here. Do you understand?"
Frodo nodded. "Yes, Uncle. I promise I won't keep anything like this from you again."
"Good," Bilbo said with a nod. "Now, some ice." He went immediately to the cellar, his mind working feverishly the entire time. Since when did Lotho apologize to anyone for anything he was partly responsible for causing? Was it possible for the lad to change his ways? Bilbo scowled. A thorn bush would always be a thorn bush, even if it bloomed from time to time, he thought grimly. Something about all this sat wrong with him, but Frodo seemed sure there was naught to worry about. If the lad could bear his injury charitably and with good humor, he supposed he owed it to him to keep his suspicious nature under control.
~*~Brandy Hall, a few days after~*~
"I got a letter from Frodo!" Merry burst into the parlor, his enthusiasm pouring forth like a springtime flood over the river banks. Frodo had only been gone a short while, but it had seemed like months to Merry. He missed his favorite cousin even more than he had thought he would, and hearing from him was the next best thing to having him there.
"And how is he faring?" Saradoc asked as he turned his full attention to his son.
Merry plopped down into a chair and unfolded the letter. "Very well, he says. He says Bag End is enormous and sometimes almost too quiet after Brandy Hall."
Saradoc laughed. He could just imagine how strange it must be for Frodo to walk into a room and not hear many voices chattering all at once, or to make his way down a corridor without bumping into countless relatives coming and going. "What else does he say?"
Merry's eyes scanned farther down the page and a small frown creased his brow. "The Sackville - Bagginses came to tea, and Frodo had to meet them. They were rude and nosy, Da." Merry looked up and scowled. "Frodo doesn't need them on his back. I hope they just leave him alone!"
"They are rather abrasive, I admit," Saradoc said thoughtfully. "As to whether they'll leave him be or not, time will tell. I wonder if Bilbo has told them of his plans to adopt Frodo." Saradoc had told Merry of the plan, but had sworn him to utter secrecy. Merry had been as good as his word, telling no one, especially Frodo. He wanted to see how surprised Frodo would be when Bilbo made his announcement at Forelithe.
"So what if he has?" Merry said sharply. "And why would they bother Frodo about something like that?"
It was Saradoc's turn to frown. "Well, Merry, they are Bilbo's closest relations, closer even than Frodo, if all family ties are considered. They are likely under the impression that Bilbo will leave all that he owns, including Bag End to them someday. If Bilbo adopts Frodo, that could seriously jeopardize their chances of laying their hands on any of it."
Merry looked worried. "They'd probably be very upset, wouldn't they? Do you think they'll trouble Frodo over it?"
"Hard to say, lad," Saradoc replied quietly. "I don't know about Otho and Lobelia, but they have a son a few years Frodo's senior who isn't known for being especially friendly or charitable. Lotho might very well be someone to keep an eye on."
Merry read further and his eyes grew large. When he spoke again, it was with an anxious tone. "Frodo has already met up with Lotho, Da. Lotho invited him into a game of toss - ball, and they smashed into each other while trying to make a catch. Frodo says he got a pretty bad bruise out of it."
"Frodo should be careful when participating in those rough games," Saradoc stated. "Some of those boys are likely to be bigger than he is and they don't know their own strength."
"Do you think Lotho did it on purpose?" Merry watched his father's face for some kind of reaction that would confirm his fears.
"Hard to say, lad. I wasn't there when it happened." He rubbed at his jaw as he considered. "Still, if I were Frodo, I would be wary of him."
"Me too. I'm going to tell Frodo to stay away from him." Merry nodded curtly. "He may not listen, but I'm still going to warn him."
"Share your feelings with him, certainly. Just be prepared, Merry." Saradoc gave his son a serious look. "Frodo may not heed your advice, and you mustn't be insulted if he doesn't. He's a tween now, and if he follows the usual pattern, he will keep his own counsel regarding who he takes as his companions."
Merry read on and a relieved smile crossed his face. "Well this sounds better. The Gamgees, who keep Uncle Bilbo's garden for him, seem to have made a good impression on Frodo. He says their youngest son, Samwise is a very friendly fellow a near to my age. Frodo says he's a nice lad and very polite. Maybe they'll be friends."
"Let us hope so," Saradoc said with a smile. "When you write back to him, tell him I said hello, and to warn Bilbo that I'll come for Frodo myself if he doesn't take proper care of him!" A teasing note had come into Saradoc's voice.
Merry grinned. "I'll tell him, Da." He knew his father wasn't serious. Besides, Bilbo would take excellent care of Frodo. Merry gave his father a quick hug, then bounded from the room to find paper and quill so he could pen an answer to the letter.
Saradoc stood lost in thought after Merry's exit. Bilbo had not likely divulged his plans to adopt Frodo and name him as his heir. The situation was indeed somewhat delicate, and the natures of the people involved could be genuinely volatile. Frodo was in the middle of it all, and when or if the storm broke, it could be an uncomfortable position for him.
The Master of Buckland sighed and took up the book he had been reading. He would trust to Bilbo's keen intuition, and await further reports from Frodo. He knew how much Bilbo cared for the boy, and Saradoc was confident that the elderly gentlehobbit wouldn't do anything to put Frodo in harm's way.
~*~
Lotho lay back on the sofa, brooding. He rubbed at his elbow absently, feeling the slightly sore spot that resulted from his crashing into Frodo during the game. A small price to pay for such satisfaction, he mused. Frodo had to be feeling much worse, for Lotho had made sure to jab his elbow into his cousin's ribs as he fell atop him. "Take that, Bucklander brat," he muttered to the otherwise empty room.
He had plans to make. The game had been just a warning, just the first in a series of possible actions he might take against Frodo. And best of all, the fool had genuinely believed that the hit was accidental! So trusting, the sweet little orphan who stood between him and his legacy. All the better, he realized with a grin. The more Frodo trusted him, the closer Lotho could get and the more 'accidents' he could cause.
He'd have to watch his step around old Bilbo, of course. Bilbo didn't trust him at all. Not him, or any of his family, it seemed. Why, he had even gone so far as to accuse Lotho's mother of stealing some silver spoons! The nerve of the old fool! Lotho would be careful not to let the old hobbit see him at his tricks, that was certain. Bilbo couldn't stand guard over Frodo night and day, could he?
"Ahh, Frodo, my little cousin, you're a burr in my breeches," Lotho muttered. "I'll get you out yet, mark me." He made a rude gesture in the general direction of Bag End and rose from the sofa.
He penned a quick note to his parents to let them know of his whereabouts and headed out the door for an ale at the Green Dragon. Perhaps Ted would be there. Ted wasn't very smart, nor was he much above common, really. Being the miller's son gave him a certain amount of status, but one couldn't describe Ted Sandyman as gentry by any stretch. Normally, Lotho wouldn't have cared to spend his time around such individuals, but there was something to be said for one's friends not being quite one's equals. It made one look better by comparison.
He wondered if Frodo had figured out that trick. No, he decided. Not Frodo. That Bucklander would likely genuinely befriend anyone, giving no thought to how it might affect him or his status. Bucklanders were strange that way, he mused. They didn't seem to care much for certain social conventions, nor did old Bilbo for that matter.
Lotho strode down the path, grinning at the prospect of getting the better of Frodo again. Soon, he vowed. Just let me catch you looking in the other direction, rat. Opportunity was all he awaited, and he was sure it was just around the corner.
~*~To be continued~*~
Endymion - "Southfarthing Spotted Fever", or chicken pox to you and me. Frodo is still trying his best to give his cousin the benefit of the doubt, but how long can he go on trying? Bilbo is less easily convinced.
QTPie2488 - Good to see you again! You didn't miss much before you found the story. Lotho is a dirty rat for sure!
Shirebound - Your reviews got through just fine, thank you! Those darn nasty S - B's are still stirring the pot! We'll see how badly Frodo was hurt in that game.
LotRseer3350 - Lotho plays dirty indeed, and this is just the first in a series of nasty tricks!
FantasyFan - I've been quite frustrated with the search problems at ff.net myself. I can't find any of the stories I'm following without a massive effort. Lotho is indeed attacking on two levels, trying to scare Frodo by hurting him and trying to make Bilbo look incompetent. He is just a tween, and thinks like one. Will his plan work? Time will tell!
Tavion - Lotho is definitely a rather cunning sort. He's planning to be a problem for Frodo for sure.
Amelia Rose - If I could get my hands on Lotho, I'd want to teach him a lesson too. Maybe by the end of this fic I'll get the chance to try.
Pebbles - Poor Bilbo will have to gradually re - mess his study again. That was inspired by the scenes in the extended version of FOTR when we can see that Bag End is, well, a mess. If you hate Lotho now, just wait. More tweenage snarkiness to come.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 4 - Showing One's True Colors
Frodo stepped out of his room and padded down the hallway on his way to the kitchen. He walked slowly, trying to look as if nothing pained him, but he bore a large, dark bruise on his side where he and Lotho had collided during the game. It had been a couple of days, and as the time had passed, the bruise became darker and his side more tender. Bilbo would worry and fret if he knew, so Frodo had hidden his discomfort as best he could.
He turned the corner and emerged from the hallway just as Bilbo was coming out of the kitchen, and the two ran right into each other. Frodo gasped and doubled over, nearly falling. Bilbo dropped the stack of linens he had been carrying and caught Frodo in time to keep him from hitting the floor. A look of deep concern and fear was in his eyes.
"Frodo, lad! What's wrong?" Bilbo guided Frodo slowly and carefully to a chair. "Are you ill?"
"No Uncle, just a little sore, I suppose," Frodo said, his hand moving instinctively to his side. "It's nothing, just a minor accident."
Bilbo moved Frodo's hand aside and carefully pulled his shirttails clear of his breeches. He lifted the shirt and exposed a large, nasty bruise over the tween's ribs. It was a horrifying purple against the pale skin, fading to a greenish hue around the edges and was still swollen.
"Stars, lad! How did this happen to you?" Bilbo pulled up a chair for himself and waited for Frodo to explain.
"A game of toss - ball the other day. Lotho and I weren't looking and we ran into each other." Frodo shrugged. It was just one of those things that could happen when a bunch of tweens got together to play a vigorous game.
"You were playing toss - ball with Lotho?" Bilbo's voice betrayed his surprise. He hadn't thought that Lotho would have much to do with Frodo by the cool reception the lad had received from him at tea.
"I went for a walk and saw him playing the game with a group of tweens. He introduced me to them and asked if I wanted to join in." Frodo recalled the rather friendly way Lotho had spoken to him, waving and calling his name like an old friend. "He was being quite pleasant, really."
"So he pleasantly asked you to join in, then ran you down like a herd of oliphaunts a few minutes later?" Bilbo asked, still extremely suspicious of Lotho. Since when was Lotho able to be accused of being friendly or pleasant?
"I don't think he did it on purpose, Uncle," Frodo answered honestly. He really did feel that it had just happened because they were both so intent on catching the ball. "The ball was coming down between us and we both tried to catch it. We ended up colliding with each other instead."
"Well did he at least apologize?" Bilbo grumbled, not willing to accept the idea of a Sackville - Baggins acting like a decent citizen.
"He did indeed," Frodo confirmed. "He helped me up and said he was sorry, Uncle. I'll not hold it against him, although I surely got the worse of it."
"That cannot be disputed." Bilbo stood up. "You just be still while I go and get some ice." Something nagged at the elder hobbit and he stopped to address Frodo again. "Why didn't you mention this when it happened?"
Frodo looked at his toes. Old habits were hard to break. "I didn't want to worry you with it, I suppose." At the look of exasperation on Bilbo's face, he continued, "You have other things on your mind as well, and I didn't think it worth mentioning."
"Not worth mentioning? Lad, if you get a sliver in your finger, I want to know about it." Bilbo's tone was stern, but caring lay in it also. "This isn't Brandy Hall. I don't have fifty other tweens demanding or needing my immediate attention. What matters to me is that you remain safe and happy here. Do you understand?"
Frodo nodded. "Yes, Uncle. I promise I won't keep anything like this from you again."
"Good," Bilbo said with a nod. "Now, some ice." He went immediately to the cellar, his mind working feverishly the entire time. Since when did Lotho apologize to anyone for anything he was partly responsible for causing? Was it possible for the lad to change his ways? Bilbo scowled. A thorn bush would always be a thorn bush, even if it bloomed from time to time, he thought grimly. Something about all this sat wrong with him, but Frodo seemed sure there was naught to worry about. If the lad could bear his injury charitably and with good humor, he supposed he owed it to him to keep his suspicious nature under control.
~*~Brandy Hall, a few days after~*~
"I got a letter from Frodo!" Merry burst into the parlor, his enthusiasm pouring forth like a springtime flood over the river banks. Frodo had only been gone a short while, but it had seemed like months to Merry. He missed his favorite cousin even more than he had thought he would, and hearing from him was the next best thing to having him there.
"And how is he faring?" Saradoc asked as he turned his full attention to his son.
Merry plopped down into a chair and unfolded the letter. "Very well, he says. He says Bag End is enormous and sometimes almost too quiet after Brandy Hall."
Saradoc laughed. He could just imagine how strange it must be for Frodo to walk into a room and not hear many voices chattering all at once, or to make his way down a corridor without bumping into countless relatives coming and going. "What else does he say?"
Merry's eyes scanned farther down the page and a small frown creased his brow. "The Sackville - Bagginses came to tea, and Frodo had to meet them. They were rude and nosy, Da." Merry looked up and scowled. "Frodo doesn't need them on his back. I hope they just leave him alone!"
"They are rather abrasive, I admit," Saradoc said thoughtfully. "As to whether they'll leave him be or not, time will tell. I wonder if Bilbo has told them of his plans to adopt Frodo." Saradoc had told Merry of the plan, but had sworn him to utter secrecy. Merry had been as good as his word, telling no one, especially Frodo. He wanted to see how surprised Frodo would be when Bilbo made his announcement at Forelithe.
"So what if he has?" Merry said sharply. "And why would they bother Frodo about something like that?"
It was Saradoc's turn to frown. "Well, Merry, they are Bilbo's closest relations, closer even than Frodo, if all family ties are considered. They are likely under the impression that Bilbo will leave all that he owns, including Bag End to them someday. If Bilbo adopts Frodo, that could seriously jeopardize their chances of laying their hands on any of it."
Merry looked worried. "They'd probably be very upset, wouldn't they? Do you think they'll trouble Frodo over it?"
"Hard to say, lad," Saradoc replied quietly. "I don't know about Otho and Lobelia, but they have a son a few years Frodo's senior who isn't known for being especially friendly or charitable. Lotho might very well be someone to keep an eye on."
Merry read further and his eyes grew large. When he spoke again, it was with an anxious tone. "Frodo has already met up with Lotho, Da. Lotho invited him into a game of toss - ball, and they smashed into each other while trying to make a catch. Frodo says he got a pretty bad bruise out of it."
"Frodo should be careful when participating in those rough games," Saradoc stated. "Some of those boys are likely to be bigger than he is and they don't know their own strength."
"Do you think Lotho did it on purpose?" Merry watched his father's face for some kind of reaction that would confirm his fears.
"Hard to say, lad. I wasn't there when it happened." He rubbed at his jaw as he considered. "Still, if I were Frodo, I would be wary of him."
"Me too. I'm going to tell Frodo to stay away from him." Merry nodded curtly. "He may not listen, but I'm still going to warn him."
"Share your feelings with him, certainly. Just be prepared, Merry." Saradoc gave his son a serious look. "Frodo may not heed your advice, and you mustn't be insulted if he doesn't. He's a tween now, and if he follows the usual pattern, he will keep his own counsel regarding who he takes as his companions."
Merry read on and a relieved smile crossed his face. "Well this sounds better. The Gamgees, who keep Uncle Bilbo's garden for him, seem to have made a good impression on Frodo. He says their youngest son, Samwise is a very friendly fellow a near to my age. Frodo says he's a nice lad and very polite. Maybe they'll be friends."
"Let us hope so," Saradoc said with a smile. "When you write back to him, tell him I said hello, and to warn Bilbo that I'll come for Frodo myself if he doesn't take proper care of him!" A teasing note had come into Saradoc's voice.
Merry grinned. "I'll tell him, Da." He knew his father wasn't serious. Besides, Bilbo would take excellent care of Frodo. Merry gave his father a quick hug, then bounded from the room to find paper and quill so he could pen an answer to the letter.
Saradoc stood lost in thought after Merry's exit. Bilbo had not likely divulged his plans to adopt Frodo and name him as his heir. The situation was indeed somewhat delicate, and the natures of the people involved could be genuinely volatile. Frodo was in the middle of it all, and when or if the storm broke, it could be an uncomfortable position for him.
The Master of Buckland sighed and took up the book he had been reading. He would trust to Bilbo's keen intuition, and await further reports from Frodo. He knew how much Bilbo cared for the boy, and Saradoc was confident that the elderly gentlehobbit wouldn't do anything to put Frodo in harm's way.
~*~
Lotho lay back on the sofa, brooding. He rubbed at his elbow absently, feeling the slightly sore spot that resulted from his crashing into Frodo during the game. A small price to pay for such satisfaction, he mused. Frodo had to be feeling much worse, for Lotho had made sure to jab his elbow into his cousin's ribs as he fell atop him. "Take that, Bucklander brat," he muttered to the otherwise empty room.
He had plans to make. The game had been just a warning, just the first in a series of possible actions he might take against Frodo. And best of all, the fool had genuinely believed that the hit was accidental! So trusting, the sweet little orphan who stood between him and his legacy. All the better, he realized with a grin. The more Frodo trusted him, the closer Lotho could get and the more 'accidents' he could cause.
He'd have to watch his step around old Bilbo, of course. Bilbo didn't trust him at all. Not him, or any of his family, it seemed. Why, he had even gone so far as to accuse Lotho's mother of stealing some silver spoons! The nerve of the old fool! Lotho would be careful not to let the old hobbit see him at his tricks, that was certain. Bilbo couldn't stand guard over Frodo night and day, could he?
"Ahh, Frodo, my little cousin, you're a burr in my breeches," Lotho muttered. "I'll get you out yet, mark me." He made a rude gesture in the general direction of Bag End and rose from the sofa.
He penned a quick note to his parents to let them know of his whereabouts and headed out the door for an ale at the Green Dragon. Perhaps Ted would be there. Ted wasn't very smart, nor was he much above common, really. Being the miller's son gave him a certain amount of status, but one couldn't describe Ted Sandyman as gentry by any stretch. Normally, Lotho wouldn't have cared to spend his time around such individuals, but there was something to be said for one's friends not being quite one's equals. It made one look better by comparison.
He wondered if Frodo had figured out that trick. No, he decided. Not Frodo. That Bucklander would likely genuinely befriend anyone, giving no thought to how it might affect him or his status. Bucklanders were strange that way, he mused. They didn't seem to care much for certain social conventions, nor did old Bilbo for that matter.
Lotho strode down the path, grinning at the prospect of getting the better of Frodo again. Soon, he vowed. Just let me catch you looking in the other direction, rat. Opportunity was all he awaited, and he was sure it was just around the corner.
~*~To be continued~*~