As promised, I managed to get the next chapter out more quickly! For those who are wondering, we will check in with Frodo in the next chapter. Thank you again so much for reading and reviewing!
Note to Gamgeefest: I realized my error with Mayor Whitfoot's title after I had posted the story and I was looking back at my original document. I debated about taking it off and fixing it, but decided to leave it. I figured if someone didn't point it out, then I would put a correction at the beginning of this chapter! Anyway, thanks for catching it!
Chapter 20 The Brockenbores
Sam continued running as long as his legs would carry him. He knew the countryside around Hobbiton like the back of his hand and hoped to make his way into the hills of Scary. There were many places to hide up there in the old holes of the Brockenbores and the area was away from the major roads. He hoped he could make it safely and then decide what to do from there.
When darkness finally settled over the land, Sam was still some distance from the hills, but had managed to find a copse of trees that provided some cover. He collapsed onto the ground wiping the sweat from his face. He was exhausted and parched. He had no idea how far he had run, but hoped it was sufficient to give him time to catch his breath. "Samwise Gamgee," he scolded himself, "You have gone and done it now. It was bad enough you were Lotho's slave, but now you're a murderer to boot!" He buried his face in his hands. Sam was a gentle soul and killing did not come naturally to him. Yes, he had killed some orcs when the need arose, but they were hardly what one would call "human" and it was most definitely a case of self-defense. But, killing Fig was nothing more than cold blooded murder. If they caught him, he'd be lucky for a quick death.
"What am I to do now?" he thought miserably. He prayed that Rosie and his Gaffer were safe. If Lotho and his thugs got their hands on them, Sam had no doubt they would pay the price for Sam's rash behavior. He leaned back against the tree and considered his position. Continuing north made the most sense. Leaving the Shire made even more sense, but Sam certainly couldn't leave while Hertig's whereabouts were still unknown, plus he had to make sure Rosie and the Gaffer were out of harm's way. The more he thought about the situation in the Shire, the angrier he grew. Surely there was something he could do to get back at these ruffians? If he could get out of the Shire, he might be able to go for help. But from whom? Rivendell and Rohan were much too far. And what of Frodo and the others? They would be walking into all of this mess without any warning! All this thinking made poor Sam's head swim. He couldn't be responsible for everyone!
"All right, Sam" he said aloud, "You've just got to get far enough away for now to be shed of those ruffians. Then you can decide what to do after that! Now is not the time to try and make decisions!" He rested for awhile longer, then wearily climbed to his feet. The hills of Scary were still many miles away.
He walked all night and when morning came, he could just make out the hills and forest in the distance. He knew there were a few small villages in the area and decided it might be best to avoid them as he didn't know who was friend and who was foe. Plus, there might be Shiriffs in the villages that would be duty-bound to turn him in. Until he knew what was what, Sam would keep to himself. It was predominately open land between here and the hills and he decided it might be best if he found someplace to spend the daylight hours to rest. Then, he could travel under the cover of darkness.
He found a shallow gully with overhanging rocks, the remains of an old stream bed. He had managed to find a small brook during the night, but again was desperately thirsty. Sighing, he burrowed under brush surrounding the rocky overhang and into the cool space beneath, quickly falling into an exhausted, troubled sleep.
How long Sam slept, he could not tell, but he was abruptly wakened by the sound of loud voices. He froze, barely breathing, as the voices seemed to get closer and closer. With horror, Sam suddenly realized they were standing just above him on the rocky outcrop! Soon, he could make out every word and they were not comforting.
"So," the first voice was saying, "Some little shire-rat got uppity and killed Fig, eh? Who woulda thought any of 'em would have the gumption for somethin' like that!"
"Aye," growled the second, "But we're to find the wretch and bring 'im in alive. The Chief wants to make an example of this one. We can't have these halflings think they can go around killin' decent folk whenever the notion takes 'em!"
"You're right there, Ted," agreed the other, "But if it were left up to me, I'd hang the little rat the minute we lays hand on 'im!"
Ted laughed harshly, "Oh, I think hangin's too quick a death for the likes o' this one. I can think of far more satisfyin' ways to kill him. Slower, too!"
His companion laughed as well and Sam could tell they were moving away as their voices became more distant. Releasing his breath, he slowly relaxed. It was worse than he had thought. The men were already searching in this area. Sam wondered how many there were. He had hoped they wouldn't make this far north yet. Well, he would just have to be extra careful.
Sleep was impossible after that. Every little noise convinced Sam that the men were upon him. Several parties did go through during the day, but none noticed the little hideaway under the rock.
Finally, when evening came, Sam ventured out from his refuge and carefully looked about. There was no one to be seen. With a sigh of relief, Sam climbed to his feet and began briskly hiking towards the hills to the north. Around the hills of Scary were a series of old hobbit holes and small natural caves known as the Brockenbores. The nearby village and many of the inhabitants were known as Brockenborings. Sam knew a few of the Brockenboring family, but not well enough to trust his life to them. Sam was hoping to find someplace to hole up in the old burrows.
Exhausted and discouraged as he was, Sam made good time that night. Occasional streams assuaged his thirst and he managed to steal some produce from the gardens of isolated farms he passed; enough to keep him going at any rate. As dawn's golden rays began to break over the horizon, Sam found himself just on the edge of the Brockenbores. They were low-lying hills leading up to the higher hills of Scary, and although now covered with forests, Sam could just make out a few of the larger holes in the sides of the hills. He knew from his explorations as a boy, many of these holes were connected through a labyrinth of tunnels; a perfect hiding spot for a hunted hobbit.
He began the weary climb up the side of one of the nearest hills. All he wanted to do now was collapse and sleep. He vaguely wondered if his life would ever get back to normal. He had almost reached one of the openings when a voice quietly sounded behind him. "Stop right there," it said in a low but ominous tone.
Sam quickly whirled around, ready to defend himself, but froze when he came face to face with several grim-faced hobbits. All were armed with clubs and one or two carried bows as well. The hobbits studied Sam impassively. They were a thin, haggard lot, clothed in dark, ragged clothing. All had the same fierce, determined looks on their faces. Finally, the tallest one spoke again. "Who are you and what are you doing poking around our land?"
Sam swallowed nervously. These hobbits didn't look like Shirriffs to him and he wondered if he dared trust them. "I..I'm Samwise Gamgee," he said finally, "And I'm looking for shelter."
One of the hobbits looked surprised and leaned over to whisper something in the other's ear. The tall hobbit blinked then looked at Sam more closely. "Samwise Gamgee? From Hobbiton?" Sam nodded. The first hobbit glanced over at his companions. "Aren't you the one they're lookin' for? For killing some lout in Hobbiton a couple o' days ago?"
Again, Sam looked at the others apprehensively but then nodded. "Aye, that was me." Then, in a fierce tone, "But, he had it comin'!"
For the first time, the other hobbits broke into grins. The tallest one even laughed, then clapping Sam on the shoulder said, "Brother Gamgee, you are just the kind of recruit we're looking for! Come along with us and will get you some food and a dry place to bed down for the night. Then, we'll explain our little organization to you!"
Dazed by this sudden turn of events, Sam allowed himself to led into the opening into the hillside and then through a winding maze of dark passageways. Two of the hobbits had lit torches but Sam still wondered how they knew where they were going. He had long ago lost any sense of direction. Finally, they reached a large, well-lit chamber with several more hobbits gathered around a small fire. These turned to watch the newcomers when one abruptly stood up and cried, "Sam!?"
Sam turned his attention to the hobbit hurrying towards them and saw with amazement that it was old Fredegar Bolger, the friend he and the others had left behind to keep an eye on Crickhollow! "Fatty!?"
Fredegar halted in front of Sam and the others. "I haven't been called Fatty in a long while!" he laughed looking down at his much thinner form. "Living in the wild will do that to a body!" He looked fondly at Sam then grew serious. "Welcome to our little band of rebels, Sam," he said placing a hand of Sam's shoulder.
"Rebels?" repeated Sam in confusion looking around at the others. "You mean, you're fighting against Lotho and his bunch?"
"That's right," said the tall hobbit proudly. "I am Largo Brockenboring. Several of my kin as well as others from the area have formed a small group to do what we may against the ruffians."
"We've raided some of their stores," continued Fredegar leading Sam towards the fire. "And helped farmers hide their livestock and so on from those thieves. There are only about 10 of us, but we do what we can to harass the enemy!"
Sam sat down beside his friend as he mulled this over. "I heard the Tooks put up a fight, but I hadn't heard that there were any others fighting back."
"Well," replied Largo ruefully, handing Sam a bowl of stew, "We have been hiding up here in the Brockenbores longer than we have been fighting. The Pimple wanted to force several us to become Shirriffs and we wanted no part of that! So, it was either go into hiding or go into the Lockholes. It was Fredegar here who had the idea of fighting back."
Sam shook his head in wonderment, then turned his attention to the stew. It had been so long since he had eaten a decent meal and it wasn't long before the bowl was empty.
Fredegar had remained silent until Sam had finished, then hesitantly asked, "Are Frodo and the others...are they..." He couldn't finish the question, fearing what the answer would be.
Sam stared into the fire for a moment, then sighed. "Mr. Frodo, Merry and Pippin were all well when last I saw them," he replied reassuringly. "I, uh, just came home early." Fredegar regarded him with a puzzled frown. Sam sighed again and began telling the story of what had happened to them since leaving Crickhollow so many months ago. The other hobbits had all gathered round, listening intently. Some exchanged glances suggesting that they thought perhaps much of this tale was the result of too many long nights with an ale bottle, but Fredegar had seen the Black Riders and had no doubt Sam spoke the truth.
"That's certainly one for the books!" exclaimed Fredegar at the end. "Orcs and wizards and elves! Something interesting always seems to happen when there's a Baggins around!" The others laughed at this, all well aware of the Baggins unusual history. It would now appear that Frodo Baggins had surpassed even Bilbo's outlandish adventures. However, Fredegar had shrewedly realized that Sam had said little of why he was here and the others were still far away in some city in Gondor (wherever that was), but he decided not to press the issue. It was clear by his appearance that Sam had been through some very rough times.
"So, that brings us to how you got here," said Largo thoughtfully. "You say you killed Lotho's man, Fig?"
Sam nodded. "He and that villain, Ted Sandyman were layin' hands on Miss Rosie Cotton and I just wouldn't stand for that! But, now I'm worried Lotho might take it out on my Gaffer or maybe even Rosie herself!"
"We have friends in Hobbiton," said Largo brushing some dirt off his sleeve. "I'll see what I can find out. Frankly, you did all of us a favor by killing that Fig. He was one of the worst! Of course, that made him one of Pimple's favorites. I doubt they'll stop searching til they find you."
"Maybe, I should go then," said Sam reluctantly. "I don't want to cause any of you any trouble!"
Again, the others all laughed. "Sam!" cried Fredegar clapping his friend on the shoulder, "Don't you understand? We're all wanted! Maybe we haven't done anything quite as dramatic as killing one of those devils, but we're wanted just the same. You, my dear hobbit, are a celebrity among us and we welcome you with open arms!"
The others agreed heartily, all shaking Sam's hand or clapping him on the shoulder. They all seemed delighted to have him and it was at that moment that Sam's life as a rebel had begun.
Note to Gamgeefest: I realized my error with Mayor Whitfoot's title after I had posted the story and I was looking back at my original document. I debated about taking it off and fixing it, but decided to leave it. I figured if someone didn't point it out, then I would put a correction at the beginning of this chapter! Anyway, thanks for catching it!
Chapter 20 The Brockenbores
Sam continued running as long as his legs would carry him. He knew the countryside around Hobbiton like the back of his hand and hoped to make his way into the hills of Scary. There were many places to hide up there in the old holes of the Brockenbores and the area was away from the major roads. He hoped he could make it safely and then decide what to do from there.
When darkness finally settled over the land, Sam was still some distance from the hills, but had managed to find a copse of trees that provided some cover. He collapsed onto the ground wiping the sweat from his face. He was exhausted and parched. He had no idea how far he had run, but hoped it was sufficient to give him time to catch his breath. "Samwise Gamgee," he scolded himself, "You have gone and done it now. It was bad enough you were Lotho's slave, but now you're a murderer to boot!" He buried his face in his hands. Sam was a gentle soul and killing did not come naturally to him. Yes, he had killed some orcs when the need arose, but they were hardly what one would call "human" and it was most definitely a case of self-defense. But, killing Fig was nothing more than cold blooded murder. If they caught him, he'd be lucky for a quick death.
"What am I to do now?" he thought miserably. He prayed that Rosie and his Gaffer were safe. If Lotho and his thugs got their hands on them, Sam had no doubt they would pay the price for Sam's rash behavior. He leaned back against the tree and considered his position. Continuing north made the most sense. Leaving the Shire made even more sense, but Sam certainly couldn't leave while Hertig's whereabouts were still unknown, plus he had to make sure Rosie and the Gaffer were out of harm's way. The more he thought about the situation in the Shire, the angrier he grew. Surely there was something he could do to get back at these ruffians? If he could get out of the Shire, he might be able to go for help. But from whom? Rivendell and Rohan were much too far. And what of Frodo and the others? They would be walking into all of this mess without any warning! All this thinking made poor Sam's head swim. He couldn't be responsible for everyone!
"All right, Sam" he said aloud, "You've just got to get far enough away for now to be shed of those ruffians. Then you can decide what to do after that! Now is not the time to try and make decisions!" He rested for awhile longer, then wearily climbed to his feet. The hills of Scary were still many miles away.
He walked all night and when morning came, he could just make out the hills and forest in the distance. He knew there were a few small villages in the area and decided it might be best to avoid them as he didn't know who was friend and who was foe. Plus, there might be Shiriffs in the villages that would be duty-bound to turn him in. Until he knew what was what, Sam would keep to himself. It was predominately open land between here and the hills and he decided it might be best if he found someplace to spend the daylight hours to rest. Then, he could travel under the cover of darkness.
He found a shallow gully with overhanging rocks, the remains of an old stream bed. He had managed to find a small brook during the night, but again was desperately thirsty. Sighing, he burrowed under brush surrounding the rocky overhang and into the cool space beneath, quickly falling into an exhausted, troubled sleep.
How long Sam slept, he could not tell, but he was abruptly wakened by the sound of loud voices. He froze, barely breathing, as the voices seemed to get closer and closer. With horror, Sam suddenly realized they were standing just above him on the rocky outcrop! Soon, he could make out every word and they were not comforting.
"So," the first voice was saying, "Some little shire-rat got uppity and killed Fig, eh? Who woulda thought any of 'em would have the gumption for somethin' like that!"
"Aye," growled the second, "But we're to find the wretch and bring 'im in alive. The Chief wants to make an example of this one. We can't have these halflings think they can go around killin' decent folk whenever the notion takes 'em!"
"You're right there, Ted," agreed the other, "But if it were left up to me, I'd hang the little rat the minute we lays hand on 'im!"
Ted laughed harshly, "Oh, I think hangin's too quick a death for the likes o' this one. I can think of far more satisfyin' ways to kill him. Slower, too!"
His companion laughed as well and Sam could tell they were moving away as their voices became more distant. Releasing his breath, he slowly relaxed. It was worse than he had thought. The men were already searching in this area. Sam wondered how many there were. He had hoped they wouldn't make this far north yet. Well, he would just have to be extra careful.
Sleep was impossible after that. Every little noise convinced Sam that the men were upon him. Several parties did go through during the day, but none noticed the little hideaway under the rock.
Finally, when evening came, Sam ventured out from his refuge and carefully looked about. There was no one to be seen. With a sigh of relief, Sam climbed to his feet and began briskly hiking towards the hills to the north. Around the hills of Scary were a series of old hobbit holes and small natural caves known as the Brockenbores. The nearby village and many of the inhabitants were known as Brockenborings. Sam knew a few of the Brockenboring family, but not well enough to trust his life to them. Sam was hoping to find someplace to hole up in the old burrows.
Exhausted and discouraged as he was, Sam made good time that night. Occasional streams assuaged his thirst and he managed to steal some produce from the gardens of isolated farms he passed; enough to keep him going at any rate. As dawn's golden rays began to break over the horizon, Sam found himself just on the edge of the Brockenbores. They were low-lying hills leading up to the higher hills of Scary, and although now covered with forests, Sam could just make out a few of the larger holes in the sides of the hills. He knew from his explorations as a boy, many of these holes were connected through a labyrinth of tunnels; a perfect hiding spot for a hunted hobbit.
He began the weary climb up the side of one of the nearest hills. All he wanted to do now was collapse and sleep. He vaguely wondered if his life would ever get back to normal. He had almost reached one of the openings when a voice quietly sounded behind him. "Stop right there," it said in a low but ominous tone.
Sam quickly whirled around, ready to defend himself, but froze when he came face to face with several grim-faced hobbits. All were armed with clubs and one or two carried bows as well. The hobbits studied Sam impassively. They were a thin, haggard lot, clothed in dark, ragged clothing. All had the same fierce, determined looks on their faces. Finally, the tallest one spoke again. "Who are you and what are you doing poking around our land?"
Sam swallowed nervously. These hobbits didn't look like Shirriffs to him and he wondered if he dared trust them. "I..I'm Samwise Gamgee," he said finally, "And I'm looking for shelter."
One of the hobbits looked surprised and leaned over to whisper something in the other's ear. The tall hobbit blinked then looked at Sam more closely. "Samwise Gamgee? From Hobbiton?" Sam nodded. The first hobbit glanced over at his companions. "Aren't you the one they're lookin' for? For killing some lout in Hobbiton a couple o' days ago?"
Again, Sam looked at the others apprehensively but then nodded. "Aye, that was me." Then, in a fierce tone, "But, he had it comin'!"
For the first time, the other hobbits broke into grins. The tallest one even laughed, then clapping Sam on the shoulder said, "Brother Gamgee, you are just the kind of recruit we're looking for! Come along with us and will get you some food and a dry place to bed down for the night. Then, we'll explain our little organization to you!"
Dazed by this sudden turn of events, Sam allowed himself to led into the opening into the hillside and then through a winding maze of dark passageways. Two of the hobbits had lit torches but Sam still wondered how they knew where they were going. He had long ago lost any sense of direction. Finally, they reached a large, well-lit chamber with several more hobbits gathered around a small fire. These turned to watch the newcomers when one abruptly stood up and cried, "Sam!?"
Sam turned his attention to the hobbit hurrying towards them and saw with amazement that it was old Fredegar Bolger, the friend he and the others had left behind to keep an eye on Crickhollow! "Fatty!?"
Fredegar halted in front of Sam and the others. "I haven't been called Fatty in a long while!" he laughed looking down at his much thinner form. "Living in the wild will do that to a body!" He looked fondly at Sam then grew serious. "Welcome to our little band of rebels, Sam," he said placing a hand of Sam's shoulder.
"Rebels?" repeated Sam in confusion looking around at the others. "You mean, you're fighting against Lotho and his bunch?"
"That's right," said the tall hobbit proudly. "I am Largo Brockenboring. Several of my kin as well as others from the area have formed a small group to do what we may against the ruffians."
"We've raided some of their stores," continued Fredegar leading Sam towards the fire. "And helped farmers hide their livestock and so on from those thieves. There are only about 10 of us, but we do what we can to harass the enemy!"
Sam sat down beside his friend as he mulled this over. "I heard the Tooks put up a fight, but I hadn't heard that there were any others fighting back."
"Well," replied Largo ruefully, handing Sam a bowl of stew, "We have been hiding up here in the Brockenbores longer than we have been fighting. The Pimple wanted to force several us to become Shirriffs and we wanted no part of that! So, it was either go into hiding or go into the Lockholes. It was Fredegar here who had the idea of fighting back."
Sam shook his head in wonderment, then turned his attention to the stew. It had been so long since he had eaten a decent meal and it wasn't long before the bowl was empty.
Fredegar had remained silent until Sam had finished, then hesitantly asked, "Are Frodo and the others...are they..." He couldn't finish the question, fearing what the answer would be.
Sam stared into the fire for a moment, then sighed. "Mr. Frodo, Merry and Pippin were all well when last I saw them," he replied reassuringly. "I, uh, just came home early." Fredegar regarded him with a puzzled frown. Sam sighed again and began telling the story of what had happened to them since leaving Crickhollow so many months ago. The other hobbits had all gathered round, listening intently. Some exchanged glances suggesting that they thought perhaps much of this tale was the result of too many long nights with an ale bottle, but Fredegar had seen the Black Riders and had no doubt Sam spoke the truth.
"That's certainly one for the books!" exclaimed Fredegar at the end. "Orcs and wizards and elves! Something interesting always seems to happen when there's a Baggins around!" The others laughed at this, all well aware of the Baggins unusual history. It would now appear that Frodo Baggins had surpassed even Bilbo's outlandish adventures. However, Fredegar had shrewedly realized that Sam had said little of why he was here and the others were still far away in some city in Gondor (wherever that was), but he decided not to press the issue. It was clear by his appearance that Sam had been through some very rough times.
"So, that brings us to how you got here," said Largo thoughtfully. "You say you killed Lotho's man, Fig?"
Sam nodded. "He and that villain, Ted Sandyman were layin' hands on Miss Rosie Cotton and I just wouldn't stand for that! But, now I'm worried Lotho might take it out on my Gaffer or maybe even Rosie herself!"
"We have friends in Hobbiton," said Largo brushing some dirt off his sleeve. "I'll see what I can find out. Frankly, you did all of us a favor by killing that Fig. He was one of the worst! Of course, that made him one of Pimple's favorites. I doubt they'll stop searching til they find you."
"Maybe, I should go then," said Sam reluctantly. "I don't want to cause any of you any trouble!"
Again, the others all laughed. "Sam!" cried Fredegar clapping his friend on the shoulder, "Don't you understand? We're all wanted! Maybe we haven't done anything quite as dramatic as killing one of those devils, but we're wanted just the same. You, my dear hobbit, are a celebrity among us and we welcome you with open arms!"
The others agreed heartily, all shaking Sam's hand or clapping him on the shoulder. They all seemed delighted to have him and it was at that moment that Sam's life as a rebel had begun.