QTPie - 2488 - Sam certainly hates to see the destruction of any growing thing, but that weed had to go. The weed itself is an invention, but some of its behaviors like the fast growth rate come from actual plants I've read about.
Iorhael - At this point, Bramblethorn has no idea as to whether he will ever see Frodo again. He has just the memory of right now. Won't he be in for a surprise!
Aratlithiel1 - I'm glad you like the premise of the story. Amazing what pops into your head while you're sitting by a pool enjoying a margarita! That epilogue will be along soon, I hope. It's nearly done.
Aelfgifu - Bramblethorn doesn't care if he's causing harm to something that grows out of the ground or walks upon it. He's an equal - opportunity villain. Sam doesn't like to see Frodo in the least bit of discomfort, so even the effects of a long day of field burning will trouble him a bit.
Peony - Suspense is building, and soon our heroes will meet their opposition. There will be some strong reaction when the truth of the matter comes out and everyone finds that Bramblethorn is involved.
Endymion2 - The weed has pretty much played its part in this story. Now we have to deal with other issues like greed and lust. (Bramblethorn, you know.) The term 'yield' is used sometimes to refer to an agricultural crop. Don't you tell me a thing about ROTK! I'm going to see it Sunday.
Hobbitfeet13 - Thank you for your in - depth review of not just this story so far, but the entire Bramblethorn series. I never intended so many stories to come from one idea, but I found that once I'd created Bramblethorn, I couldn't drop him easily. He kept coming back for more. This story is a little slashy regarding Frodo/Sam, but nothing massively overt.
GamgeeFest - Bramblethorn is nasty, isn't he? Greedy old - nevermind. He's happy as can be that he's making those uppity Bucklanders squirm.
Trust No One - Will Bramblethorn get 'lucky' this time? Read on and find out. The answer lies in future chapters.
Camellia - Gamgee - Took - I'm seeing ROTK this weekend too, and I'm hoping it will inspire me rather than leaving me in a state of mental overload. The latter is more probable, but you never know!
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Author's note - Please forgive me if I make you dizzy with this chapter. There's a lot of jumping around from place to place over a period of several days.
Chapter 3 - Harvest
No sooner had the ashes of the failed crop cooled than Buckland re - planted and a period of waiting and hoping began. Tended by the best masters of the craft, the new crops grew well enough, but harvest time came before they could come to full maturity. Now the grain and corn had been brought in and stored, and the results tallied and recorded.
Merry and Saradoc leaned over the ledger on the desk with grim faces. There had been no celebration at harvest this season, just the observance of the simplest of traditional rites. Dancing and feasting were to be left for times of plenty, when celebration was warranted and hunger not a distinct possibility.
"This simply won't see us through the winter, will it?" Merry asked quietly. He had done the sums in his head, knowing roughly what the population of Brandy Hall and its environs numbered.
Saradoc looked at his son and shook his head sadly. There was no point in pretending or trying to shield Merry from the truth. Merry already knew. It was plain behind the blue of the eyes that peered intently at him now. "We shall have to buy or barter, I fear. I shall write to Paladin and ask if he has any surplus to trade, but I believe I know the answer he will give."
Merry nodded. The Great Smials were no less populated than Buckland, and had fared little better the previous year. Their crops had not been damaged by the invasive weeds this season, but the folk of Tuckborough might very well need all they had gathered as it was.
"I shall send an inquiry to Farmer Maggot," Merry said, knowing it would be of only marginal gain if the old farmer could spare anything in trade. "Perhaps we could trade some barrels of beer or the services of some of our artisans."
"That's a fine suggestion, Merry. I've spoken with the blacksmiths and wheelwrights already, and they've said that they will make their services available to any who need them if grain is to be had as a result," Saradoc told his son.
Merry turned to leave the study, and Saradoc called out to him. "Where are you off to, lad?"
"I'm going to write to Frodo and tell him the news," Merry replied. "He knows most of the farmers around Hobbiton, and maybe he can help us too." Merry was stung by the thought of having to ask for assistance from beyond Buckland's borders. He had never seen a time when such action had to be taken, and it was a bitter thing.
"Please tell him your mother and I send our best wishes." As Saradoc watched his son leave the room, pride warred with sorrow within him. He was very proud of Merry for the effort he had put forth so far during the crisis, and he was certain the young hobbit would be more than ready to take on the responsibilities of the Master when the time came. Still, it grieved Saradoc to see his son so burdened at a time in his life that should be filled with cheer and vigor.
~*~Several days later, Bag End~*~
Frodo let his tea grow cold in the cup as he gave his full attention to Merry's letter. Sam took several furtive glances at Frodo as he peeled a potato, and was alarmed by the deepening frown on his master's brow.
"It seems Merry's fears have been realized," Frodo said glumly as he put the letter down. He lifted his teacup and stared into it blankly, then set it down again without drinking. "The harvest was poorer even than last year's, and now they've got to ask for help."
"Can we do aught for them ourselves?" Sam asked quietly, knowing that his own family had nothing to spare.
"I don't know, Sam," Frodo replied. "I intend to speak with some of the farmers in and around Hobbiton. I think I can afford to purchase some wheat and corn to give to Buckland, but there's some question as to whether there's much to be had."
"I know what you mean, sir," Sam said. "I was talkin' to Tom Cotton just the other day, an' he said they're ready for the winter, but only just."
"Whatever can be found will help, I know," Frodo said with a nod, "I only wish there were more I could do." Buckland, after all, was Frodo's original home and he would always do anything in his power to ease the troubles of his family there.
"Don't you fret so, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, trying to cheer his friend and master. "Mr. Merry and Mr. Saradoc are two of the smartest hobbits in the Shire, an' if there's a way through this, they'll think of it."
"I do hope you're right, Sam." Frodo rose from the table. "I'm going to go out for a while and see what support I can raise for them." Sam nodded and watched Frodo leave Bag End. He turned back to the potatoes with a heavy sigh.
~*~later~*~
Frodo returned to Bag End hours later, tired and hungry. He had missed tea and was late for supper, having spent much of the day talking with those farmers who were available. Many of them had only small land holdings and grew enough to sustain their own families. Those whose lands produced more than was strictly needed were few, but they had agreed to help. Frodo had offered them a good price for a share of their crops, and several deals had been struck.
"Sam?" Frodo called as he opened the door. Sam jumped at the sound of Frodo's voice, having been absorbed in watering several plants on a windowsill.
"Mr. Frodo, I was beginnin' to think I ought to go an' look for you," Sam said with relief. "Where have you been all this time?"
"I must have walked the length of half the Westfarthing today," Frodo said wearily. "I've managed to make several agreements that will gain Buckland an extra wagon load of wheat, but nothing more. I'll need your help to retrieve and load it."
"So we're bound for Buckland again?" Sam said, looking out the window at the garden. It had fared well enough in his absence before, he supposed.
"As soon as we've gathered the wheat I was able to purchase," Frodo confirmed. "We must get it tomorrow and start for Buckland the following day. I'm going to write Merry right now and let him know we're coming." Frodo padded into the study as Sam followed.
"But Mr. Frodo, you must be hungry, what with all that walkin'," Sam said. "Don't you want something to eat?"
"I would be grateful for a good meal, Sam," Frodo said with a smile. "If you get something ready, I promise I'll be along in a few moments." Sam nodded and proceeded to the kitchen to put the kettle over the fire.
~*~Two days later, Bag End~*~
"Well, Sam, that's the last of it," Frodo said as he checked the tally he had made of the contents of the wagon. The entire bed was filled with sacks of grain. Sam and Frodo had spent most of the previous day visiting the farmers and purchasing the grain, and had left tallying the totals for the next morning.
"I'd say you've done Buckland a good turn, sir," Sam declared, impressed with the amount that Frodo had managed to procure.
"Perhaps, but I still wish I could do more. I feel so useless, Sam," Frodo confessed.
"Please don't take on so, Mr. Frodo," Sam soothed. "You ain't at all useless, an' that's a fact. Mr. Merry will know you done what you could an' he'll be right glad of it."
Frodo smiled. Deep down, he knew Sam was right. Merry would indeed be glad of any help that came from Hobbiton, and would give Frodo the same gentle admonishment. "We had better get started, Sam," he said and handed Sam his pack.
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland~*~
A genuine smile lit Merry's face for the first time in days as he surveyed the wagonload of corn and barley that had come in from Tuckborough. It was a generous amount, given the circumstances, and a letter of thanks had already gone out to the Thain and his family.
Saradoc stood at his son's side and clasped his shoulder. "Farmer Maggot has traded another wagon load to us for the services of our wheelwright," he told Merry. "It seems several of his wagons and carts are in need of repair, or so he says."
Merry nodded knowingly. It was unlikely that Farmer Maggot's wagons had been in need of attention, but it would be just like the old fellow to claim such a thing so as not to make his assistance seem like charity. "A fine hobbit, Farmer Maggot. We're fortunate to have him as an ally."
Saradoc supervised the storage of the additional grain, as Merry joined in the process of unloading it. By the time they were finished, the overall tally was looking a little better, though still not near what it should be. When they returned to the Hall, a letter from Hobbiton was waiting for them.
Merry ripped it open anxiously. What had Frodo accomplished in the past few days? If he knew his cousin, Frodo had been dedicating himself to the project of procuring more grain since his receipt of Merry's last message.
"Frodo, you're a wonder!" Merry breathed as he read the note. "Frodo says he has managed another wagonload for us and he and Sam are on their way here as we speak." Merry's eyes shone as he handed the letter to his father. "It was so very generous of Frodo to spend part of his own inheritance to purchase grain for us."
"Bilbo was quite generous with his fortune before he left the remainder to Frodo," Saradoc remarked. "It seems Frodo takes after him in that respect." Of course Frodo would have the gratitude and future support of the Hall in all his efforts as well. Had the situation been reversed, the Brandybucks would have brooked any expense to assist Frodo.
"Another wagonload will be quite helpful, but we still haven't enough, have we?" Merry said, sobering. He fixed his father with a serious gaze and asked, "Have you any plans to purchase from outside?"
Saradoc eyed his son sharply. Merry was quick - minded, indeed, if he had already been considering the possibility. "I've thought of it. I know it would be an unusual measure to take, but given our situation, it may be our only hope of a winter without hunger."
"Consider me a volunteer for the task," Merry said gravely, hoping his father would find him able to deal with such a responsibility. "You have so much to do here, you might as well send me as your emissary."
"You've proven yourself to be equal to any task I've set you so far," Saradoc admitted. "Should such a decision be made, it would be to Bree that I would send you, perhaps farther if need be. We can discuss it further when Frodo and Sam arrive."
Merry felt a twinge of hope. If he were sent to Bree to barter for grain, perhaps Frodo and Sam would be able to go with him. The journey would be much more pleasant with company, and safer with three together, for Bree was certainly not the same as the quiet, peaceful Shire. The people of Buckland traveled there somewhat frequently and were familiar with the village and its inhabitants; still one could find an enemy around any corner as easily as one could find a friend.
~*~Bree~*~
"Keep your ears and eyes open," Bramblethorn instructed his henchmen. "Unless I miss my guess, those Bucklanders have brought in their harvest by now and should be considering their options. I want to know if any of them show up in town asking to purchase grain."
Monto and Anson nodded. They would be hanging around the inns and listening, as well as watching for unfamiliar hobbits who might be coming into Bree from the Shire. Not a bad assignment, sitting around drinking ale and eavesdropping. There were worse ways to occupy one's time, that was certain.
"If you hear anything even marginally unusual or see anyone nosing about, I want to know about it immediately. Your job is to make sure any potential buyers are sent in my direction." Bramblethorn fancied he could feel the weight of the coins in his hands already. "I will be watching as well." Between the three of them, they should be able to manage a thorough watch of the town.
The game was afoot, and all that remained was waiting for the Bucklanders to make their move, and move they must if they wanted to last the winter. How much grain could he sell them, Bramblethorn wondered? If they only asked for a small amount, he might be able to persuade them to buy more. He could declare that he only sold the grain in lots of a certain amount and demand that they buy the larger quantity. They wouldn't do any better up the road, in any case.
Bramblethorn's self - satisfied smirk grew larger as he watched his hirelings leave to begin their information - gathering mission.
~*~ To be continued ~*~
Iorhael - At this point, Bramblethorn has no idea as to whether he will ever see Frodo again. He has just the memory of right now. Won't he be in for a surprise!
Aratlithiel1 - I'm glad you like the premise of the story. Amazing what pops into your head while you're sitting by a pool enjoying a margarita! That epilogue will be along soon, I hope. It's nearly done.
Aelfgifu - Bramblethorn doesn't care if he's causing harm to something that grows out of the ground or walks upon it. He's an equal - opportunity villain. Sam doesn't like to see Frodo in the least bit of discomfort, so even the effects of a long day of field burning will trouble him a bit.
Peony - Suspense is building, and soon our heroes will meet their opposition. There will be some strong reaction when the truth of the matter comes out and everyone finds that Bramblethorn is involved.
Endymion2 - The weed has pretty much played its part in this story. Now we have to deal with other issues like greed and lust. (Bramblethorn, you know.) The term 'yield' is used sometimes to refer to an agricultural crop. Don't you tell me a thing about ROTK! I'm going to see it Sunday.
Hobbitfeet13 - Thank you for your in - depth review of not just this story so far, but the entire Bramblethorn series. I never intended so many stories to come from one idea, but I found that once I'd created Bramblethorn, I couldn't drop him easily. He kept coming back for more. This story is a little slashy regarding Frodo/Sam, but nothing massively overt.
GamgeeFest - Bramblethorn is nasty, isn't he? Greedy old - nevermind. He's happy as can be that he's making those uppity Bucklanders squirm.
Trust No One - Will Bramblethorn get 'lucky' this time? Read on and find out. The answer lies in future chapters.
Camellia - Gamgee - Took - I'm seeing ROTK this weekend too, and I'm hoping it will inspire me rather than leaving me in a state of mental overload. The latter is more probable, but you never know!
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Author's note - Please forgive me if I make you dizzy with this chapter. There's a lot of jumping around from place to place over a period of several days.
Chapter 3 - Harvest
No sooner had the ashes of the failed crop cooled than Buckland re - planted and a period of waiting and hoping began. Tended by the best masters of the craft, the new crops grew well enough, but harvest time came before they could come to full maturity. Now the grain and corn had been brought in and stored, and the results tallied and recorded.
Merry and Saradoc leaned over the ledger on the desk with grim faces. There had been no celebration at harvest this season, just the observance of the simplest of traditional rites. Dancing and feasting were to be left for times of plenty, when celebration was warranted and hunger not a distinct possibility.
"This simply won't see us through the winter, will it?" Merry asked quietly. He had done the sums in his head, knowing roughly what the population of Brandy Hall and its environs numbered.
Saradoc looked at his son and shook his head sadly. There was no point in pretending or trying to shield Merry from the truth. Merry already knew. It was plain behind the blue of the eyes that peered intently at him now. "We shall have to buy or barter, I fear. I shall write to Paladin and ask if he has any surplus to trade, but I believe I know the answer he will give."
Merry nodded. The Great Smials were no less populated than Buckland, and had fared little better the previous year. Their crops had not been damaged by the invasive weeds this season, but the folk of Tuckborough might very well need all they had gathered as it was.
"I shall send an inquiry to Farmer Maggot," Merry said, knowing it would be of only marginal gain if the old farmer could spare anything in trade. "Perhaps we could trade some barrels of beer or the services of some of our artisans."
"That's a fine suggestion, Merry. I've spoken with the blacksmiths and wheelwrights already, and they've said that they will make their services available to any who need them if grain is to be had as a result," Saradoc told his son.
Merry turned to leave the study, and Saradoc called out to him. "Where are you off to, lad?"
"I'm going to write to Frodo and tell him the news," Merry replied. "He knows most of the farmers around Hobbiton, and maybe he can help us too." Merry was stung by the thought of having to ask for assistance from beyond Buckland's borders. He had never seen a time when such action had to be taken, and it was a bitter thing.
"Please tell him your mother and I send our best wishes." As Saradoc watched his son leave the room, pride warred with sorrow within him. He was very proud of Merry for the effort he had put forth so far during the crisis, and he was certain the young hobbit would be more than ready to take on the responsibilities of the Master when the time came. Still, it grieved Saradoc to see his son so burdened at a time in his life that should be filled with cheer and vigor.
~*~Several days later, Bag End~*~
Frodo let his tea grow cold in the cup as he gave his full attention to Merry's letter. Sam took several furtive glances at Frodo as he peeled a potato, and was alarmed by the deepening frown on his master's brow.
"It seems Merry's fears have been realized," Frodo said glumly as he put the letter down. He lifted his teacup and stared into it blankly, then set it down again without drinking. "The harvest was poorer even than last year's, and now they've got to ask for help."
"Can we do aught for them ourselves?" Sam asked quietly, knowing that his own family had nothing to spare.
"I don't know, Sam," Frodo replied. "I intend to speak with some of the farmers in and around Hobbiton. I think I can afford to purchase some wheat and corn to give to Buckland, but there's some question as to whether there's much to be had."
"I know what you mean, sir," Sam said. "I was talkin' to Tom Cotton just the other day, an' he said they're ready for the winter, but only just."
"Whatever can be found will help, I know," Frodo said with a nod, "I only wish there were more I could do." Buckland, after all, was Frodo's original home and he would always do anything in his power to ease the troubles of his family there.
"Don't you fret so, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, trying to cheer his friend and master. "Mr. Merry and Mr. Saradoc are two of the smartest hobbits in the Shire, an' if there's a way through this, they'll think of it."
"I do hope you're right, Sam." Frodo rose from the table. "I'm going to go out for a while and see what support I can raise for them." Sam nodded and watched Frodo leave Bag End. He turned back to the potatoes with a heavy sigh.
~*~later~*~
Frodo returned to Bag End hours later, tired and hungry. He had missed tea and was late for supper, having spent much of the day talking with those farmers who were available. Many of them had only small land holdings and grew enough to sustain their own families. Those whose lands produced more than was strictly needed were few, but they had agreed to help. Frodo had offered them a good price for a share of their crops, and several deals had been struck.
"Sam?" Frodo called as he opened the door. Sam jumped at the sound of Frodo's voice, having been absorbed in watering several plants on a windowsill.
"Mr. Frodo, I was beginnin' to think I ought to go an' look for you," Sam said with relief. "Where have you been all this time?"
"I must have walked the length of half the Westfarthing today," Frodo said wearily. "I've managed to make several agreements that will gain Buckland an extra wagon load of wheat, but nothing more. I'll need your help to retrieve and load it."
"So we're bound for Buckland again?" Sam said, looking out the window at the garden. It had fared well enough in his absence before, he supposed.
"As soon as we've gathered the wheat I was able to purchase," Frodo confirmed. "We must get it tomorrow and start for Buckland the following day. I'm going to write Merry right now and let him know we're coming." Frodo padded into the study as Sam followed.
"But Mr. Frodo, you must be hungry, what with all that walkin'," Sam said. "Don't you want something to eat?"
"I would be grateful for a good meal, Sam," Frodo said with a smile. "If you get something ready, I promise I'll be along in a few moments." Sam nodded and proceeded to the kitchen to put the kettle over the fire.
~*~Two days later, Bag End~*~
"Well, Sam, that's the last of it," Frodo said as he checked the tally he had made of the contents of the wagon. The entire bed was filled with sacks of grain. Sam and Frodo had spent most of the previous day visiting the farmers and purchasing the grain, and had left tallying the totals for the next morning.
"I'd say you've done Buckland a good turn, sir," Sam declared, impressed with the amount that Frodo had managed to procure.
"Perhaps, but I still wish I could do more. I feel so useless, Sam," Frodo confessed.
"Please don't take on so, Mr. Frodo," Sam soothed. "You ain't at all useless, an' that's a fact. Mr. Merry will know you done what you could an' he'll be right glad of it."
Frodo smiled. Deep down, he knew Sam was right. Merry would indeed be glad of any help that came from Hobbiton, and would give Frodo the same gentle admonishment. "We had better get started, Sam," he said and handed Sam his pack.
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland~*~
A genuine smile lit Merry's face for the first time in days as he surveyed the wagonload of corn and barley that had come in from Tuckborough. It was a generous amount, given the circumstances, and a letter of thanks had already gone out to the Thain and his family.
Saradoc stood at his son's side and clasped his shoulder. "Farmer Maggot has traded another wagon load to us for the services of our wheelwright," he told Merry. "It seems several of his wagons and carts are in need of repair, or so he says."
Merry nodded knowingly. It was unlikely that Farmer Maggot's wagons had been in need of attention, but it would be just like the old fellow to claim such a thing so as not to make his assistance seem like charity. "A fine hobbit, Farmer Maggot. We're fortunate to have him as an ally."
Saradoc supervised the storage of the additional grain, as Merry joined in the process of unloading it. By the time they were finished, the overall tally was looking a little better, though still not near what it should be. When they returned to the Hall, a letter from Hobbiton was waiting for them.
Merry ripped it open anxiously. What had Frodo accomplished in the past few days? If he knew his cousin, Frodo had been dedicating himself to the project of procuring more grain since his receipt of Merry's last message.
"Frodo, you're a wonder!" Merry breathed as he read the note. "Frodo says he has managed another wagonload for us and he and Sam are on their way here as we speak." Merry's eyes shone as he handed the letter to his father. "It was so very generous of Frodo to spend part of his own inheritance to purchase grain for us."
"Bilbo was quite generous with his fortune before he left the remainder to Frodo," Saradoc remarked. "It seems Frodo takes after him in that respect." Of course Frodo would have the gratitude and future support of the Hall in all his efforts as well. Had the situation been reversed, the Brandybucks would have brooked any expense to assist Frodo.
"Another wagonload will be quite helpful, but we still haven't enough, have we?" Merry said, sobering. He fixed his father with a serious gaze and asked, "Have you any plans to purchase from outside?"
Saradoc eyed his son sharply. Merry was quick - minded, indeed, if he had already been considering the possibility. "I've thought of it. I know it would be an unusual measure to take, but given our situation, it may be our only hope of a winter without hunger."
"Consider me a volunteer for the task," Merry said gravely, hoping his father would find him able to deal with such a responsibility. "You have so much to do here, you might as well send me as your emissary."
"You've proven yourself to be equal to any task I've set you so far," Saradoc admitted. "Should such a decision be made, it would be to Bree that I would send you, perhaps farther if need be. We can discuss it further when Frodo and Sam arrive."
Merry felt a twinge of hope. If he were sent to Bree to barter for grain, perhaps Frodo and Sam would be able to go with him. The journey would be much more pleasant with company, and safer with three together, for Bree was certainly not the same as the quiet, peaceful Shire. The people of Buckland traveled there somewhat frequently and were familiar with the village and its inhabitants; still one could find an enemy around any corner as easily as one could find a friend.
~*~Bree~*~
"Keep your ears and eyes open," Bramblethorn instructed his henchmen. "Unless I miss my guess, those Bucklanders have brought in their harvest by now and should be considering their options. I want to know if any of them show up in town asking to purchase grain."
Monto and Anson nodded. They would be hanging around the inns and listening, as well as watching for unfamiliar hobbits who might be coming into Bree from the Shire. Not a bad assignment, sitting around drinking ale and eavesdropping. There were worse ways to occupy one's time, that was certain.
"If you hear anything even marginally unusual or see anyone nosing about, I want to know about it immediately. Your job is to make sure any potential buyers are sent in my direction." Bramblethorn fancied he could feel the weight of the coins in his hands already. "I will be watching as well." Between the three of them, they should be able to manage a thorough watch of the town.
The game was afoot, and all that remained was waiting for the Bucklanders to make their move, and move they must if they wanted to last the winter. How much grain could he sell them, Bramblethorn wondered? If they only asked for a small amount, he might be able to persuade them to buy more. He could declare that he only sold the grain in lots of a certain amount and demand that they buy the larger quantity. They wouldn't do any better up the road, in any case.
Bramblethorn's self - satisfied smirk grew larger as he watched his hirelings leave to begin their information - gathering mission.
~*~ To be continued ~*~