Disclaimer: I do not own Middle Earth, nor any of the characters or places
mentioned in the works of J.R.R. Tolkien in his incredible stories. I am
not making any money off of these stories, they are written purely for
pleasure, and the intellectual idea of alternate endings. I promise
to bring the "boys" home in time for supper, none the worse for wear after
our little adventures.
Meli remembers him, remembers his life and his ways long before the quest came to destroy him, to gut his bright and beautiful candle for the world. She remembered his joy, his gentle laughter so unexpected and hearty in one so grave and solemn. She remembered him as her older cousin, one she had heard the stories about as a child. The loss of his parents, the reasons for his fears of water and especially boating. How could he have grown up into anything but the hobbit he was? Such a contradiction in terms, of physicality, of mind and spirit. He was thin, lithe and graceful and elvish, so different from most other hobbits, who were sturdy and strong. But he had that sturdiness also, there beneath the surface. That strength of will and powerful determination that seemed to be able to weather most any storm. Almost any storm. There was one whose outcome might still be in question.
Meli remembers the early summer afternoon she spent with him in a time that seemed like decades past, but was really not more than a few years. She had fallen into the Water after a younger cousin and had knocked on his door, sopping wet and frightfully embarrassed. He had smiled at her, that silly, welcoming smile that reached his eyes and made the day brighter simply because those twin blue irises were bright and sunny. They had spent the next several hours there in his smial, recently left to him by his Uncle's departure. She had talked and he had listened, and vice versa. For the first time in her life she was comfortable with someone not of her immediate family, the mind-numbing shyness and anxiety that usually plagued her around those she did not know well wasn't a problem, a fact which was amazing to her, and so very welcome.
She had grown up with him in a way, being a cousin of his Uncle's and also one of his own in a distant way. He had moved to Hobbiton when she was only twelve, but she easily recalled his exploits on visits with her cousin Merry, and the then still young Pippin Took. Being a lass, and a shy one, she never participated in the lads' rough play or unending stream of practical jokes, but she had watched and shared in the fun from her own small, sheltered world. She and Merry were occasional playmates in Brandy Hall, and she was often entertained with stories about Merry's "favorite cousin Frodo".
She remembered the sight of him one afternoon, strolling around the market place in Hobbiton, looking through the bookseller's cart, and making a careful purchase of quill nibs and parchment. Her family was on their way back to North Farthing when they had stopped for lunch at an Inn. Meli had always enjoyed Hobbiton, and after quickly eating her lunch, she had begged off from her family to go and explore for a bit, promising to be back before they would be ready to leave. From there, she had wandered to the market, and was window shopping as she strolled in the crisp, autumn afternoon.
She first noticed his hands, stained with splotches of ink, but smooth and white and delicately formed, but somehow also giving the impression of strength, or perhaps more an impression of competence. She was still staring more than was polite when he looked up from his purchases and caught sight of her, obviously aware of who she was, but knowing her as more of a distant relation than a close family member or true friend. As such, his smile was warm and kind, but that was all. Blushing furiously, Meli curtsied slightly to him as she had been taught as a very young lass, but then felt silly to be doing so to someone who had not yet even met his majority. In an effort to appease her embarrassment, Frodo nodded his head slightly, and his smile widened before wishing her a good day and turning to walk back to Bag End and his waiting Uncle. Meli lived off the moment for days, recalling to herself the warmth of his eyes and the genuine amusement they held at her mistake.
She had loved him all her life, she realized one rainy afternoon, watching as Pippin and Merry made forts out of couch cushions. She had considered for a moment taking up Pippin's eager request for her to play too, but had decided that at twenty, she was too old to scuffing around the floor playing with a child and a teenager. Propriety would not hold for such things, and Meli had been made well aware of her new position as tweenaged lass, and was expected to behave accordingly. As such, she sat and watched at Pippin repeatedly took over the "fort" from his older cousin, and delightedly crowed his victory to all within hearing distance. But as the afternoon had worn on, Meli soon left off with watching the boys, and began to think about her life and her upcoming courtship rituals she would be unwillingly engaged in. She was the only daughter of old Marmadas Brandybuck, and as the daughter of a gentle hobbit family, she would be expected to marry within her own class, or if possible, higher. It was silly, she thought, to be given away like a cow or a horse, being told that the only things that truly mattered was to get along well with her potential suitor, and marry the one who would best be able to care for her, both monetarily and emotionally. She understood what her parents spoke of, and how the regular practice was as such, but Meli did not wish to marry someone simply for security. She wished to marry someone she liked and held as a dear and true friend, and perhaps even loved a great deal, though she was not naïve enough to think that friendship and loyalty were something lesser to passion and fire. Short, silly love might fade, but a deeper lasting feeling would last and weather all things. She knew her silly ideas of romance with the heir of "Old Mad Bilbo Baggins" existed only in her own mind, but she could not rid herself of it, and the reality of the situation did not stop her wool-gathering.
That had all been long ago and in a place she now felt of as far away. Mistress Rose Gamgee had invited her for tea one afternoon, and to Meli's surprise, who else sat in the parlor but Frodo Baggins, worn and wan from his journey, his eyes betraying the pain and hopelessness that was eating him alive...but the hobbit was the one from her childhood, however changed. Meli smiled at him graciously as she was introduced to him for the first time in a formal manner, Mayor Samwise smiling brightly to her as she was seated next to him, making her feel warm and bright, despite the pale ghost of sadness that lingered in the room. The afternoon passed quickly, with Rosie playing the perfect hostess, and Sam carrying the conversation into happy, pleasant waters. By the end of the allotted hour, Frodo had begun to pick up a bit, and seemed to be less tired, and more vibrant than either of the Gamgees had seen him in months. Rose smiled to herself secretly, and Sam was hard pressed to contain his joy at his Master's even slightest improvement. At that stage, the family and friends of the Ringbearer were happy to take any crumbs thrown to them, hoping that as enough time passed, they might form a whole once again.
That evening, he left with Melilot, walking her down the lane to the Boffins' home where she was staying for the summer.
Rose and Sam watched, and hoped.
Meli remembers him, remembers his life and his ways long before the quest came to destroy him, to gut his bright and beautiful candle for the world. She remembered his joy, his gentle laughter so unexpected and hearty in one so grave and solemn. She remembered him as her older cousin, one she had heard the stories about as a child. The loss of his parents, the reasons for his fears of water and especially boating. How could he have grown up into anything but the hobbit he was? Such a contradiction in terms, of physicality, of mind and spirit. He was thin, lithe and graceful and elvish, so different from most other hobbits, who were sturdy and strong. But he had that sturdiness also, there beneath the surface. That strength of will and powerful determination that seemed to be able to weather most any storm. Almost any storm. There was one whose outcome might still be in question.
Meli remembers the early summer afternoon she spent with him in a time that seemed like decades past, but was really not more than a few years. She had fallen into the Water after a younger cousin and had knocked on his door, sopping wet and frightfully embarrassed. He had smiled at her, that silly, welcoming smile that reached his eyes and made the day brighter simply because those twin blue irises were bright and sunny. They had spent the next several hours there in his smial, recently left to him by his Uncle's departure. She had talked and he had listened, and vice versa. For the first time in her life she was comfortable with someone not of her immediate family, the mind-numbing shyness and anxiety that usually plagued her around those she did not know well wasn't a problem, a fact which was amazing to her, and so very welcome.
She had grown up with him in a way, being a cousin of his Uncle's and also one of his own in a distant way. He had moved to Hobbiton when she was only twelve, but she easily recalled his exploits on visits with her cousin Merry, and the then still young Pippin Took. Being a lass, and a shy one, she never participated in the lads' rough play or unending stream of practical jokes, but she had watched and shared in the fun from her own small, sheltered world. She and Merry were occasional playmates in Brandy Hall, and she was often entertained with stories about Merry's "favorite cousin Frodo".
She remembered the sight of him one afternoon, strolling around the market place in Hobbiton, looking through the bookseller's cart, and making a careful purchase of quill nibs and parchment. Her family was on their way back to North Farthing when they had stopped for lunch at an Inn. Meli had always enjoyed Hobbiton, and after quickly eating her lunch, she had begged off from her family to go and explore for a bit, promising to be back before they would be ready to leave. From there, she had wandered to the market, and was window shopping as she strolled in the crisp, autumn afternoon.
She first noticed his hands, stained with splotches of ink, but smooth and white and delicately formed, but somehow also giving the impression of strength, or perhaps more an impression of competence. She was still staring more than was polite when he looked up from his purchases and caught sight of her, obviously aware of who she was, but knowing her as more of a distant relation than a close family member or true friend. As such, his smile was warm and kind, but that was all. Blushing furiously, Meli curtsied slightly to him as she had been taught as a very young lass, but then felt silly to be doing so to someone who had not yet even met his majority. In an effort to appease her embarrassment, Frodo nodded his head slightly, and his smile widened before wishing her a good day and turning to walk back to Bag End and his waiting Uncle. Meli lived off the moment for days, recalling to herself the warmth of his eyes and the genuine amusement they held at her mistake.
She had loved him all her life, she realized one rainy afternoon, watching as Pippin and Merry made forts out of couch cushions. She had considered for a moment taking up Pippin's eager request for her to play too, but had decided that at twenty, she was too old to scuffing around the floor playing with a child and a teenager. Propriety would not hold for such things, and Meli had been made well aware of her new position as tweenaged lass, and was expected to behave accordingly. As such, she sat and watched at Pippin repeatedly took over the "fort" from his older cousin, and delightedly crowed his victory to all within hearing distance. But as the afternoon had worn on, Meli soon left off with watching the boys, and began to think about her life and her upcoming courtship rituals she would be unwillingly engaged in. She was the only daughter of old Marmadas Brandybuck, and as the daughter of a gentle hobbit family, she would be expected to marry within her own class, or if possible, higher. It was silly, she thought, to be given away like a cow or a horse, being told that the only things that truly mattered was to get along well with her potential suitor, and marry the one who would best be able to care for her, both monetarily and emotionally. She understood what her parents spoke of, and how the regular practice was as such, but Meli did not wish to marry someone simply for security. She wished to marry someone she liked and held as a dear and true friend, and perhaps even loved a great deal, though she was not naïve enough to think that friendship and loyalty were something lesser to passion and fire. Short, silly love might fade, but a deeper lasting feeling would last and weather all things. She knew her silly ideas of romance with the heir of "Old Mad Bilbo Baggins" existed only in her own mind, but she could not rid herself of it, and the reality of the situation did not stop her wool-gathering.
That had all been long ago and in a place she now felt of as far away. Mistress Rose Gamgee had invited her for tea one afternoon, and to Meli's surprise, who else sat in the parlor but Frodo Baggins, worn and wan from his journey, his eyes betraying the pain and hopelessness that was eating him alive...but the hobbit was the one from her childhood, however changed. Meli smiled at him graciously as she was introduced to him for the first time in a formal manner, Mayor Samwise smiling brightly to her as she was seated next to him, making her feel warm and bright, despite the pale ghost of sadness that lingered in the room. The afternoon passed quickly, with Rosie playing the perfect hostess, and Sam carrying the conversation into happy, pleasant waters. By the end of the allotted hour, Frodo had begun to pick up a bit, and seemed to be less tired, and more vibrant than either of the Gamgees had seen him in months. Rose smiled to herself secretly, and Sam was hard pressed to contain his joy at his Master's even slightest improvement. At that stage, the family and friends of the Ringbearer were happy to take any crumbs thrown to them, hoping that as enough time passed, they might form a whole once again.
That evening, he left with Melilot, walking her down the lane to the Boffins' home where she was staying for the summer.
Rose and Sam watched, and hoped.