~*~*~*~
Marroc's Tale, Part 2: Orphaned
By Hippy Hobbit
Chapter 1: 'Do It Anyways'
Dedicated to Niph
~*~*~*~
The wind and the gale beat up against the porch.
~I'm sorry, papa~
The boy looked inside the beautiful book, which was half hidden under a blanket to keep it from the rain.
~I'm sorry, papa. I should've forgiven you. I should've forgiven you. I should've forgiven you. You said you was sorry. I should've forgiven you. You should've been forgiven.~
He still held the reed in his hand. Teeth marks put small dents in the top from when he'd stuck it in his mouth while thinking about what to write. The book had remained empty, except for that one page, for three years.
The inkwell sat on the chair's armrest, next to him. It was still nearly full and in perfect condition, only opened once.
He lifted the pen and wrote, turning to the next clean page:
'I don't want to go to Hobbiton.'
Only a few days before hand,, it had been decided that Marroc was to be moving to Hobbiton. To Bag End, to be more precise. Bilbo Baggins, has he had done a few years back. The decision had been made without Marroc's discretion. This had angered him greatly. He never knew how much of a burden he'd been on his Uncle.
He knew, of course, he was often in the way, not being his real son. Like when they'd go to family get-togethers. Marroc felt out of place, especially when people he'd never met before would come up and ask him if he was the Master's boy. The bad thing was that they'd always do it with a certain air of disgust, as though he were the previously-unknown product of a night at the bar with too much to drink and too much pleasurable company.
But then came the REAL shocker.
'Uh... no. I'm Tarroc's son.'
Tarroc, oh! Heavens forbid! Not HIM! You poor child! All the responses were the same, although they were never spoken. But Brandybucks had the gift for reading eyes. And Marroc was 1/2 Brandybuck.
Thunder echoed from somewhere far off, drawing Marroc away from his thoughts. He blinked his big eyes and looked down at his book.
What had once been a blank page was now filled with green ink. He hadn't realized completely that he'd been writing all his thoughts. He read them over a few times, then covered up the book in order to avoid another gust of rain that was blown in.
The sound of hooves soon approached. Marroc jumped and tensed, looking around and listening carefully.
The hooves were not heavy, like a ponys, but light and dis-jointed. He blinked.
Merry knew he'd be able to find his little cousin here.
'Marroc! You're going to catch your death!' he was leading the infamous Butch on a leash. The goat bleated happily when it saw it's master.
Marroc smiled as Butch trotted over and lay his head on his knee. Marroc ruffled his ears like a dog.
'Hiya, Butch. Merry.'
Merry frowned.
'He missed you, you know. You should take him too, next time.'
Marroc smiled and ruffled the goat's ears again, absent-mindedly.
'He was sleeping and he gets angry when I wake him up.'
Merry shook his head and suppressed a laugh. He would never understand his little cousin.
'Are you ready to go to Bag End?'
Marroc blinked.
'I...I don't want to go to Hobbiton, Merry.'
This caused Merry to frown. He bent down and scooped up Marroc- blankets, book and all- into his arms.
'Why not?'
'We went there once. They called me 'queer''
Merry laughed loudly.
'It's the curse of being a Bucklander, lad! Everywhere you go in this Shire, folk are gonna call you 'queer', just 'cause you're from Buckland.'
He gave Marroc a small smile.
'Be proud. If they call you that again, say 'Thank you very much.' It's a compliment, after all.'
Marroc still frowned.
'I still don't want to move there.'
'Why? Bilbo's nice, you know.'
'He...he yelled at me.'
This caused the Brandybuck to scoff.
'You gave Frodo dung-stuffed mushrooms!'
'It was Pippin's fault too! He didn't get yelled at.' Marroc growled, sourly.
Merry rolled his eyes. It was useless to argue.
'Let's go home. You still need to finish packing anyway.'
'I'll do it tomorrow.'
'No, you wont. We're leaving early in the morning for Hobbiton. You wont have any time.'
'So then you're taking me?'
'Yeah. What? I'll be staying there for a little bit as well, visitin' Frodo.'
'Oh. Alright then.'
He clung to Merry as the elder adjusted him in his arms. Lying his head on Merry's shoulder, he closed his eyes.
'Merry?' Merry has started walking back towards Brandyhall, having gathered up Marrocs things.
'Hm?'
'Why are we called 'queer'?'
'Because we fool around on boats and such, according to some. Don't let it get to you, lad. We're not queer. The lot of them are.'
There was a moment's silence.
'Really? Can I call them that?'
'No! Don't be mean, Marroc Took. Just ignore them if they make fun of you.
'What if I can't?'
Merry blinked.
'Do it anyways.'
~*~*~*~
A/N: Gosh, doncha just love Marroc? He is such a CUTIE! You could eat 'im up! ^^
Also Butch... he is a lot like a puppy dog, isn't he? My friend Sarah is getting two goats. I think she should name them Peppercorn and Merrimack ^^
Do you have any suggestions for goat names? Post them! ^^
I also suggested 'Nefartiticus the Great', but she seemed to strongly oppose it. I wonder why. Its such an awesome name.
Niph: Have fun?
Elessar*Lover: We've got such a strange love-hate relationship.
Pipinheart: Yeah. Merry is pretty cool, ain't he?
~Hippy
Marroc's Tale, Part 2: Orphaned
By Hippy Hobbit
Chapter 1: 'Do It Anyways'
Dedicated to Niph
~*~*~*~
The wind and the gale beat up against the porch.
~I'm sorry, papa~
The boy looked inside the beautiful book, which was half hidden under a blanket to keep it from the rain.
~I'm sorry, papa. I should've forgiven you. I should've forgiven you. I should've forgiven you. You said you was sorry. I should've forgiven you. You should've been forgiven.~
He still held the reed in his hand. Teeth marks put small dents in the top from when he'd stuck it in his mouth while thinking about what to write. The book had remained empty, except for that one page, for three years.
The inkwell sat on the chair's armrest, next to him. It was still nearly full and in perfect condition, only opened once.
He lifted the pen and wrote, turning to the next clean page:
'I don't want to go to Hobbiton.'
Only a few days before hand,, it had been decided that Marroc was to be moving to Hobbiton. To Bag End, to be more precise. Bilbo Baggins, has he had done a few years back. The decision had been made without Marroc's discretion. This had angered him greatly. He never knew how much of a burden he'd been on his Uncle.
He knew, of course, he was often in the way, not being his real son. Like when they'd go to family get-togethers. Marroc felt out of place, especially when people he'd never met before would come up and ask him if he was the Master's boy. The bad thing was that they'd always do it with a certain air of disgust, as though he were the previously-unknown product of a night at the bar with too much to drink and too much pleasurable company.
But then came the REAL shocker.
'Uh... no. I'm Tarroc's son.'
Tarroc, oh! Heavens forbid! Not HIM! You poor child! All the responses were the same, although they were never spoken. But Brandybucks had the gift for reading eyes. And Marroc was 1/2 Brandybuck.
Thunder echoed from somewhere far off, drawing Marroc away from his thoughts. He blinked his big eyes and looked down at his book.
What had once been a blank page was now filled with green ink. He hadn't realized completely that he'd been writing all his thoughts. He read them over a few times, then covered up the book in order to avoid another gust of rain that was blown in.
The sound of hooves soon approached. Marroc jumped and tensed, looking around and listening carefully.
The hooves were not heavy, like a ponys, but light and dis-jointed. He blinked.
Merry knew he'd be able to find his little cousin here.
'Marroc! You're going to catch your death!' he was leading the infamous Butch on a leash. The goat bleated happily when it saw it's master.
Marroc smiled as Butch trotted over and lay his head on his knee. Marroc ruffled his ears like a dog.
'Hiya, Butch. Merry.'
Merry frowned.
'He missed you, you know. You should take him too, next time.'
Marroc smiled and ruffled the goat's ears again, absent-mindedly.
'He was sleeping and he gets angry when I wake him up.'
Merry shook his head and suppressed a laugh. He would never understand his little cousin.
'Are you ready to go to Bag End?'
Marroc blinked.
'I...I don't want to go to Hobbiton, Merry.'
This caused Merry to frown. He bent down and scooped up Marroc- blankets, book and all- into his arms.
'Why not?'
'We went there once. They called me 'queer''
Merry laughed loudly.
'It's the curse of being a Bucklander, lad! Everywhere you go in this Shire, folk are gonna call you 'queer', just 'cause you're from Buckland.'
He gave Marroc a small smile.
'Be proud. If they call you that again, say 'Thank you very much.' It's a compliment, after all.'
Marroc still frowned.
'I still don't want to move there.'
'Why? Bilbo's nice, you know.'
'He...he yelled at me.'
This caused the Brandybuck to scoff.
'You gave Frodo dung-stuffed mushrooms!'
'It was Pippin's fault too! He didn't get yelled at.' Marroc growled, sourly.
Merry rolled his eyes. It was useless to argue.
'Let's go home. You still need to finish packing anyway.'
'I'll do it tomorrow.'
'No, you wont. We're leaving early in the morning for Hobbiton. You wont have any time.'
'So then you're taking me?'
'Yeah. What? I'll be staying there for a little bit as well, visitin' Frodo.'
'Oh. Alright then.'
He clung to Merry as the elder adjusted him in his arms. Lying his head on Merry's shoulder, he closed his eyes.
'Merry?' Merry has started walking back towards Brandyhall, having gathered up Marrocs things.
'Hm?'
'Why are we called 'queer'?'
'Because we fool around on boats and such, according to some. Don't let it get to you, lad. We're not queer. The lot of them are.'
There was a moment's silence.
'Really? Can I call them that?'
'No! Don't be mean, Marroc Took. Just ignore them if they make fun of you.
'What if I can't?'
Merry blinked.
'Do it anyways.'
~*~*~*~
A/N: Gosh, doncha just love Marroc? He is such a CUTIE! You could eat 'im up! ^^
Also Butch... he is a lot like a puppy dog, isn't he? My friend Sarah is getting two goats. I think she should name them Peppercorn and Merrimack ^^
Do you have any suggestions for goat names? Post them! ^^
I also suggested 'Nefartiticus the Great', but she seemed to strongly oppose it. I wonder why. Its such an awesome name.
Niph: Have fun?
Elessar*Lover: We've got such a strange love-hate relationship.
Pipinheart: Yeah. Merry is pretty cool, ain't he?
~Hippy