That afternoon Hope and Smeagol took Samara home. Much to their luck, Samara's father was the only one home. Hope felt herself clinging onto Samara's shoulder tighter. How could she leave her alone when it was clearly not safe, especially when the mother was gone.
"Hello, Smeagol," said the father kindly as he let them in. Hope looked down at Samara and stepped inside with her and Smeagol. "And who are you?" he asked her.
"Hope-Anne," she replied. "Your daughter is really a great child."
"Well," he said with less enthusiasm. "That's good to hear. Can I get you two anything?"
"Some answers," replied Smeagol. The man seemed confused but listened. Hope held up Samara's bloodstained dress.
"Can you please tell us where the blood came from?" she asked. The man's eyes widened.
"I'm... sorry, I really don't know. Is she all right?"
"We found a whip lash on her back. Do you know where it came from?"
"Whip lash?" he asked. Hope rolled her eyes.
"Oh, don't act dumb. As if you don't know." She turned Samara around and showed him the nasty cut. "There," she said, pointing to it. "You know where it came from and we want some answers."
"I swear, I don't know," he said defensively. "I was gone all morning. Her mother..."
"Wouldn't do something like this," said Smeagol. "But we'll ask her, just the same. In the meantime, for your sake, I suggest you leave the girl alone." He shot the father a warning glance and then dragged Hope out the door.
"Smeagol!" she protested once they were away from the house. "You don't honestly believe him, do you?"
"I don't know," he said, staring at the ground. "I haven't heard enough. He really didn't seem to know what we were talking about. Maybe he's telling the truth."
"Oh yeah, and Gollum really didn't mean to try and kill Frodo in the spider pit!"
"What?" he asked. She stopped herself and shook her head.
"Never mind. It's something you won't get till much later. But that's not important! The point is, is it really a good idea to leave her alone with him? Especially now that he knows we know?"
"But we don't know it was him," he objected.
"You said yourself you didn't trust him."
"And I don't. But if he really was, do you honestly think he'd so much as lay a finger on her, hurtfully now that we know what to look for? It'd be unwise." Hope sighed and her pace was slowly turning into an angry stomp. "Besides, if he did, she'd tell us." Hope stopped dead in her tracks and looked at him, trembling.
"Smeagol," she muttered. "What if she can't?" Smeagol stared at her confused. "Children don't just shut down by themselves. I saw those portraits, Smeagol. She used to be normal like the other children. Whatever's happened to her was done on purpose. What if this is her way of telling us something's wrong? What if he's threatened her each time he beats her so she's become too afraid to talk? I've seen it happen."
"Well I haven't, but it's a possibility. Let's just wait till the morning when we can ask the mother, all right?" Hope groaned, but nodded.
"Fine," she snarled. "But he had better not touch her again. I lost one friend to an abusive father. I won't do it again."
"Come on, Deagol, you almost had it that time," urged Hope as she and Deagol struggled with the guitar. It was the next day and Smeagol and her hand planned to visit the mother in the afternoon. She should be home this time.
"I don't think I'm getting the hang of it. It's too hard."
"Don't give up," warned Hope. "Do you think I got to where I am in an instant? I had to practice my butt off for days just to learn how to strum properly. What makes you think you'll get it all in one minute? Just give yourself some time. Now, try again." Deagol positioned his fingers and tried to strum again. Strumming down had already been mastered. But strumming back up was more of a challenge. He tried twice and then shook his head.
"I'm not meant to do this, Hope." Hope sighed and looked off into the distance. She could see the forest ahead and hear the sounds of running water from the river. At that moment and idea came to her.
"Deagol, you like fishing, right?"
"I love it," he said with a smile. "It's so much more relaxing to get out in a boat in the middle of the river and just watch the sky."
"Great," she said with a smile. "I have an idea."
"Okay, now once more..."
They were in the middle of the river Anduin, in a boat, Deagol with a guitar in his hands. He smiled at her brilliant idea and tried again. Hope had figured it would be easier if he were in a more relaxing environment. He started strumming and before he knew it, he had it right. Hope applauded and cheered him on.
"Awesome!" she said with a big smile. "I told you you could do it."
"Well," he said, handing her the guitar. "You promised if I got it down today that you would play me another song."
"What is it with you guys and my songs?" she asked, half laughing. She took the guitar from him and started strumming.
You come out at night
When the energy comes
And the dark side's light
And the vampire's roam
You strut your rasta wear
And your suicide poem
And a cross from a faith
That died before Jesus came
You're building a mystery
You live in a church
Where you sleep with voodoo dolls
And you won't give up the search
For the ghosts in the halls
You wear sandals in the snow
And a smile that won't wash away
Can you look out the window
Without your shadow getting in the way
Oh your so beautiful
With an edge and a charm
But so careful
When I'm in your arms
Cause your working
Building a mystery
Holding on, holding in
Yeah your working
Building a mystery
And choosing so carefully
You woke up screaming aloud
A prayer from your secret god
You feed off your fears
And hold back your tears
Give us a tantrum and
A know it all grin
Just when we need one
When the evening's thin
Oh your beautiful
A beautiful fucked up man
And setting up your razor wire shrine
Cause you're working
Building a mystery
And holding on, holding in
Yeah, you're working
Building a mystery
And choosing so carefully
(song by Sarah McLachlan)
"I love your voice," said Deagol with a smile. "Especially with songs like that."
"The hard thing is, the majority of the songs I like are too high for me to sing," she laughed.
"Can I ask you something?" he asked softly.
"Okay," she said.
"What's a clown?" Hope made a face.
"What?"
"Your shirt says that clowns will eat you if you fall asleep." She started laughing and looked down at her shirt. It was black with white writing that went in a spiral saying "Can't sleep! Clowns will eat me..." repeatedly.
"A clown is kind of like a court Jester, you know what I'm talking about right?"
"Yeah. I know what those are."
"That's basically what a clown is except they have their faces painted white and they had orange frizzy hair, and a big red mouth. I used to be so afraid of them when I was little."
"I can understand," he laughed.
"So. Do you want to do this again next lesson?"
"Of coarse! This worked perfectly."
"Glad to hear it. We'd better head back though before your father thinks I took you fishing." They rowed back and after being paid, Hope headed back to Smeagol's home and they prepared to leave to Samara's house.
