Red String

Of A New Thread

 Frodo made his way to Miranda's home later. Merry and Pippin had both seemingly forgotten what they had wanted to speak with him about, meaning they were scheming. He found it odd, how two Knights of the largest Kingdom of Men could both be so foolish and childish at heart….when he, could not even began to pick up the threads of his own life.

 He noticed that more and more children had come out to play by the day. Normally Buckland wasn't in such a bustle as it was now, only on May-Day, but that had already passed. He saw that more children were playing 'Lords and Ladies', and it seemed that spring was blossoming late this year. Perhaps it was just because the Shire had been behind on rejuvenating, so it was making up for lost time.

 Or he was late on seeing things.

 Frodo had to admit that ever since his brief talk with Miranda that morning, things seemed to be more open to him. He noticed more, and was interested in more doings of what hobbits were up too. Normally, he would shut himself into the rooms that Merry had accommodated him with, and wrote in the Red Book that Bilbo had bestowed him with. Frodo doubted he could write everything of his adventure…some things, some hurts, were too deep to mention…nor heal. He sighed sadly, closing his eyes. It seemed no matter how much he wanted to put it those wounds behind him, even for a moment.

 He found himself before the gate to the address that Merry and Pippin had given to him. He looked over the gate, at the small little flowers that were planted. Purple where their peddles, he knew that he had heard Sam speak of them once, but the name he couldn't recall. His hand went to the gate to open it.

 "Frodo, Frodo Baggins is that you?"

 Frodo looked over his shoulder to see Pearl Proudfoot. She had been another one of the friends of Pippin when they were younger. Frodo nodded to her in seeing her, and turned to her. The Proudfoot was shorter than him about a few inches, long brown hair that was curly. She wore a red dress, a ivory colored bodice atop of it, the cuffs around her forearms and collar were ruffled, tied with pink lace.

 "Good afternoon, Ms. Proudfoot." He said.

 Pearl looked at him oddly. "You sure are more formal than you were before you left, Frodo." She mentioned.

 "I was only a lad then, Ms. Proudfoot." Frodo spoke, calmly and tonelessly. "I have to admit that I did not expect to see you about today."

 Pearl smiled, and shrugged. Frodo glanced down, seeing that she had a basket filled with some bread, fruits and other foods, most likely to make luncheon for her family. "I had heard you were just walking, and I figured I'd catch up with you."

 Frodo followed her eyesight, seeing that Pearl was looking at the small purple flowers in the planting box outside Mirandas' hole. He looked back up at Pearl, seeing that she was thinking about something. "I was invited to a luncheon."

 "Oh yes, I've heard from friends in Brandy Hall that you and Ms. Chubb have been conversing much more lately." Pearl smiled. Frodo shook his head, hating how rumors and gossip where always what was going on in Brandy Hall. Pearl nodded. "Well, I shall be going then, Frodo. I hope to see you around dinner sometime and Brandy Hall." She turned on her heal quickly, and headed down for the road. She seemed to have an odd skimp in her step.

 Frodo placed his hand on the gate again, pushing the small swinging door open. He walked to the front door, giving it a slight tap. There was some bustling and within a moment Miranda had come to the door, opening and gave a small smile. "Good afternoon, Ms. Chubb." Frodo gave a small smile in return of hers.

 "More as a hot afternoon I'd say." Miranda mumbled, but Frodo caught on to it. She stepped aside, allowing him to enter. She gestured to the coat rack near the door once she had closed it. "If you feel comfortable in doing so, you can hang your cloak there, Mr. Baggins." She then trotted off down the hall and turned.

 Frodo unpinned the Leaf of Lorien broach around his neck and hung it by the hood on the rack. He looked around the hole, seeing that it was much too large for just one hobbit alone. He thought it interesting that none of Miranda's brothers he had heard of lived with their sister. He frowned, it must have been horribly sad and lonely living in such a large place like this…and it didn't seem like she had much company either.

 There was a sound of water and pans knocking. Frodo followed in Miranda's footsteps, finding himself standing in the archway into the kitchen. Miranda was cutting some potatoes, something seemed to be cooking on the iron rack above the fireplace. It must not have been done, seeing as how he could not smell it. He looked around the some what messy kitchen, seeing it looked like she had been busy.

 Miranda stopped and turned to look up at him. Her hair, pulled back loosely from her face was nearly everywhere, strands sticking out as if she had placed it back in a rush. Unlike Pearl, she had on a light green dress with a bodice – Frodo wondered if all hobbit lasses wore those. Adorning the skirt was a white apron to keep from anything spilling on the skirt of her dress.

 There was a silence; the only thing being heard was the cooking of whatever luncheon was in the pot.

 "Do you want to help me, or am I making a silly accusation?" Miranda asked. Frodo let out another smile, and came forward.

 "Only if you need it, Ms. Chubb." He responded.

 Miranda raised her eyebrows for a moment then returned to slicing her potatoes. "Well….you know…" she trailed off for a moment. Frodo looked from her potatoes to her. "In private like this, you don't have to act such formalized…but, if you are more comfortable with speaking formal than you don't have to…"

 "I don't mind." Frodo cut in, guessing that she'd start rambling. Something that Pippin had warned him about. "If it makes you more comfortable in your own home, Miranda, then I'll call you buy what you ask."

 Miranda smiled, and then placed the knife down on the cutting board, turning to him. She looked around the kitchen, trying to see what she would need help with. Most of the cooking had been started already. She glanced back behind her at the few potatoes that had been skinned already, and needed to be sliced. "If you wish to help me, Frodo, then you could slice these last few potatoes for me…." She looked back up at him, seeing that he was a bit confused. She giggled. "Or you could always just watch what's in the pot, making sure that it doesn't over boil, I have a tendency to do that…"

 Frodo nodded and went over to the fireplace. He put his arm out on the bricks, leaning over and watched the fire as if it brought him comfort.

 Miranda noticed the dreadful silence that had developed over the last few moments. She had hopped that they could have some conversation, and then she realized that they hardly knew one another. That could cause an interesting uproar in Buckland. Two hobbits, hardly knowing one another, and then he starts to show up to her home for meals. She smiled, it sounded like some fairy tale that girls would always listen to when they were younger.

 Then a clatter, a rather loud one, was heard and there was a gasp. Miranda dropped the knife and turned, seeing Frodo waving his hand in the air like you did when you burned yourself. She came over, picked up a towel and clasped the hot lid Frodo had dropped and placed it back over the cooking soup once she had seen that it was not done. She turned and looked over at him. "I don't suppose you ever learned how to clasp a hot kettle, Frodo?"

 "I was never present in the kitchen besides meals." Frodo said softly, waving his hand to cool it. "I was mostly out with my cousins or something to the extent of that." He brought his hand back, looking at it to see if there were any burns.

 "Here, let me see." Miranda said, coming over. She bent down on her knees, gently taking Frodo's hand into her own and looking at it. She looked down each digit seeing nothing wrong, although his middle finger did have a small red mark, nothing to minor. She paused at his ring-finger then – or rather, what seemed to be a stub. Half of it was missing, but it seemed like it had healed a rather long while ago. Miranda saw she was staring at it and quickly looked over his other finger, seeing nothing wrong. She nodded and patted his hand.

 "Nothing wrong, just a red mark…it'll be gone by the end of the day." She stood and walked back over to her slicing. She stopped and looked over her shoulder to find that Frodo was staring straight into her own eyes. He looked grateful for something. She wondered what it was. Perhaps it was that she wasn't gawking at his maimed hand. She smiled and turned back to her cooking.

 Frodo came up behind her; more fascinated it seemed by the potatoes then a pan. "What is it exactly we are having?"

 "You'll see, if you don't burn your hand off before we eat." Miranda laughed. Frodo smiled, shaking his head.

 "So, Pippin's warning was right." He said thoughtfully.

 Miranda turned her head over her shoulder, looking at him oddly. Frodo seemed to be in thought again. "What warning did Peregrin give you? I bite?"

 "No, no." Frodo shook his head. "More as in the words of, you use rather large ones to insult others jokingly."

 Miranda laughed again, shaking her head. "No, I only do that around him, I use rather short words, Frodo." She then took the sliced potatoes into a large bowl and spread them into a pan, placing shredded cheese onto it. She felt Frodo watching her and felt nervous. "My brother lives down the road, and I figured I'd make something for his little girl and boy to snack on…" she explained.

 "So, you do live alone?" Frodo asked. Miranda was silent. "…I thought it was odd, seeing how one hobbit lived in such a large hole as this one…"

 "My father gave it to me in his will." Miranda cut him off, placing the potatoes onto the next rack in the fireplace. She stepped back, watching the embers and folding her arms across her chest. "My elder brother had gotten married, and my younger one moved in with him…so I was the only one to leave it with." She sighed sadly. "It is lonely, living in a large place like this."

 "I can imagine." Frodo said, looking out one of the windows in the kitchen. Miranda turned her head to him, seeing that he was looking far away again. "I live in the hole I had inherited from my Uncle; it's rather large as well. It was lonely, but now that my friend and his family have taken up occupancy there, it is far from quiet. Sometimes I miss it."

 "Its far to quiet here." Miranda said. "You're my first visitor in a long time.."

 Frodo turned and looked at her, Miranda was looking at the embers again.

 "One Tugo, my little brother died, less people started to show up, leaving my father with his grief, me also. Then once father died, everyone thought it was best to leave me alone until my grief passed…but when I had become social, people didn't want to spend time with me." Miranda spoke softly, looking into the embers meditatively, trying to seek some comfort from the flames. "Either they forgot how social I was…or, they just found other interests. So, before Merry invited me over, I just sat in here, doing whatever I could think of to occupy my time."

 There was another silence.

 "I suppose it's for the better." Miranda said, grabbing the towel again, lifting the lid on the soup to see if it was done. "I am most likely horrible company."

 Frodo came over, taking her arm. "On the contrary, Miranda…." She stopped and turned to look up at him. "I think you provide good company, able to shift from one subject to another, that's very hard for most hobbit lasses to do…especially in Buckland."

  Miranda placed the lid back down. She stood elegantly, her skirt flowing with her movements. She kept her even eyesight with Frodo, and held the silence for a moment. "And you, Frodo Baggins." She said slowly and softly. "You make excellent company as well…more people would see that if you spoke more than a whisper here and there."

 Frodo sighed, turning to lean against the table. He sat on the table, his hands planted on the surface, fingers rolled to hold on to the under edge. "No, I must disagree with you, Miranda." He looked into the fire, avoiding her gaze. "No one but my servant can understand what I went through when I went out of the Shire." He chose his words carefully. "And even then, not even Sam can completely understand."

 "I never said you had to speak of your doings beyond the borders of the Shire, Frodo."

 Frodo gave a sad grim smile. "Then may I inquire what you meant?"

 Miranda thought for her words. "Well, I mean if you spoke more about the Shire…and things you plan on doing in the future, not meaning your adventure…quest, journey, whatever you want to call it." She felt Frodo look at her. "I guess that's another reason why hobbits do not like to be around me much, I'm not into gossip anymore…or seeing what is going on in others lives. I mean, if they don't mention it then why should I bother to dig into things they wouldn't want to be known?"

 "Sometimes knowing someone's past is the only way to know someone." Frodo spoke.

 "Is that the same for you?" Miranda asked softly. Frodo didn't answer. "Should I dig and inquire into an adventure that you do not want to share with others? That changed you from what you were before? Should I ask and make you relive things you don't want to relive….?" She trailed off for a moment. Frodo sensed that there was a personal experience behind her words.

 Frodo looked at the fire. "I do not think that anyone would want to hear an adventure that's not like Bilbo's."

 "Not everyone has the same experiences." Miranda said. She gulped and stood, looking at him. "Frodo, don't think that I am forcing you to tell me your adventure…I'm not, if you don't want to tell me, that's fine…I'm just…" she heard herself babbling.

 There was a silence. Miranda took the lid off, letting the aroma of the smell fill the kitchen. Miranda then took the pot off the racks of iron, placing it on the cooling board on the counter. The only sound beside those of the outside and of the kitchen was Frodo tapping his fingers on the surface of the table.

 "Would you like to hear it?" Frodo asked tonelessly.

 Miranda looked over at him, seeing him staring back into the fire. His eyes were on the flames, but it seemed as if his mind were far off. "Only…only if you want to tell the tale, Frodo."

 Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap tap.

 Frodo was silent for another long moment. "We can meet at Brandy Hall tomorrow morning, and speak then, if you have nothing else planed." His voice was soft as if he were truly far off.

 Miranda nodded and turned back to serving the food. The rest of the meal was silent until the two said their goodbyes.

-*-

a/n: Wow, already four chapters…this is going by fast. I'm sorry if this chapter was to long for everyone, but now the chapters will be fairly long.

And I did notice that Fanfiction.net did not kindly allow my link. Here it is here, after the review responses.

Zam Kenobi: Thank You ^^ I try not to do serious Mary Sues (hehe)

FrodoBaggins87: I like the idea to. Merry's in on it also, don't forget about him!

Ivy Borrows: Once again I don't know of the ending of the havens, it might be, it might not, we'll see. Although I think its pointing in the direction of a not Havens story. (*ponder*)

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