Notes to Readers:
Please be sure to leave a review! They are very motivating, and each review you
leave entitles you to a free cup of cyber-tea in the parlour (The Muse and I do
try to make our guests feel welcome). What you are seeing here is the edited draft.
(Thanks to my editor who prefers to work behind the scenes.)
Thanks for the comments! How do you like your tea?
Aemilia Rose, I bet they really liked the get-well teddy bear.
Xena, thanks for your thoughtful review. The way you hit the highlights is a
way for me of reliving the chapter as well, with the added plus of seeing
another viewpoint.
Tim, "a bit more polished"! (You noticed (grin). My editor said to say thanks.)
Bookworm, the Question Game is not at all fair, it's rigged to do the most
possible psychological harm, though I'm sure the ruffians didn't think of it in
those exact terms.
FantasyFan, sorry if I sounded defensive. Those near and dear to me make fun of
my "little hobby". I've been catching a bit of flak lately and not wanting to "waste
time" writing because of it.
Another chapter of "Runaway" is in the works and you'll see it as soon as we
can get it finished (Thanks, Jodancingtree!). Expect another chapter of "Small
and Passing Thing" the day after tomorrow, if all goes well. Thank you for your
patience.
***
Chapter 7. One
Step at a Time
On the morning of the following day, Healer Finch re-wrapped Fredegar's right
hand after a more thorough examination. 'He's too weak to bear the pain of
re-setting the bones, at present,' Finch told his parents. 'We need to feed him
up, get his fever under control, heal the infected lesions.'
'Can we take him home now?' Odovacar said. 'He ought to be in a proper hole, a
homelike place, well-intentioned as the hobbits here might be.'
Finch regretfully shook his head. 'I wouldn't chance it,' he warned. Rosamunda
sat silently listening to the conversation, holding her son's left hand, but
when she looked up, her expression went straight to Frodo's heart. They'd
stayed the night in the crowded Town Hole, and while the hobbits of Michel
Delving had been kindness itself to the released prisoners and their loved
ones, the meeting hall was a far cry from a homey hobbit hole.
'Would Hobbiton be too far?' he asked. 'Bag End is a homey place, and...' He
broke off.
'What is it?' Odo said.
'I keep forgetting,' Frodo said ruefully. 'It's not homey, not the last time I
saw it, and...'
'Not to mention that it's not yours to offer anymore,' Merry put in.
'I was about to say just that,' Frodo said. 'I'm certainly glad Lobelia didn't
hear me making free with her hole.'
Lobelia had been driven away in state, carried off by Bracegirdles who'd come
all the way from Hardbottle to look for relatives taken by the ruffians.
There'd been several Bracegirdles in the Lockholes, not surprising considering
their abrasive tongues. She had been crushed by the news of her precious
Lotho's murder. Uncharacteristically silent, she had allowed her relatives to
bundle her into their coach and drive away without a word to anyone, though the
townsfolk had cheered her going. (Folk had often wanted to cheer her
going, in the past, and now that they had a good reason for it, they made the
hills ring with their "huzzahs".)
Farmer Cotton spoke then. He'd joined the procession of hobbits on their way to
Michel Delving, driving his waggon, in order to bring several hobbits of
Bywater back home from the Lockholes. He'd stopped by now to ask when Sam would
be returning, and to offer Frodo a room, in case he'd decided against going
back to the wilds of Buckland, where all this trouble had started. 'There's
plenty of room at my place,' he said.
'I couldn't put you out,' Odovacar said formally.
'Who said anything about you putting me out?' the farmer said in surprise.
'We've plenty of room and to spare. Why, we would have taken the Gamgees in
when Bagshot Row was dug up, if it was allowed.' He nodded. 'There's room,' he
said. 'It may not be fancy, but it's comfortable.'
Odovacar smiled. He'd been living in a large cupboard in the hole of his
gardener, sleeping on a fold-out bed, hiding with his wife whenever ruffians
came around. 'I'd be beholden to you, sir,' he said with a bow.
'What do you think?' Frodo asked Finch. 'Bywater's not that far, a day's
journey, or two at most.'
'I suppose we could bundle him up well,' Finch said slowly. 'I was going to
wait here a few more days before taking Budgie and Robin home. I could check in
on him on our way to Bridgefields, see how he's mending. We can take care of
that hand when you get him home, in three, maybe four weeks, I'm thinking.'
'Home for Yule?' Rosamunda said hopefully. 'And Estella?'
'Stell,' Fredegar breathed.
'What was that, son?' Odovacar said, bending over the makeshift bed on the
floor of the meeting hall.
'Where's Estella?' Fredegar whispered, trying to lift his head. 'Where is she?'
he begged his father. 'Did they lock her up, too?'
'No, of course not!' Odovacar said, shocked. 'She's well and safe, Freddy, you
know that.'
Freddy didn't seem to hear. 'Where is she?' he repeated. 'Where?' His eyes
closed and he let his head fall back again, exhausted.
'Where is Estella?' Frodo asked.
'Freddy took her to Woody End, to the home of Hally and Rosemary Bolger...' At
Frodo's blank look, he added, 'Rosemary was Ferdibrand Took's sister, until she
married against her father's wishes and was disowned. Ferdi stayed in contact
with her.'
'I see,' Frodo said. 'So Estella is in Woody End?'
'No,' Odovacar said. 'Ferdi slipped out of Tookland periodically to gather news
for the Thain. Freddy hoped that Ferdi could slip back into Tookland with
Estella. The Shire was getting to be a dangerous place for pretty lasses, but
Tooks kept the ruffians out of their land.'
'I see,' Frodo said again.
'Once you're settled in Bywater, it's only a dozen or so miles across country
to the Great Smials,' Farmer Cotton said. 'It wouldn't be difficult to send
someone to fetch your daughter, or even to go yourself.'
'True,' Odovacar said, looking into his wife's hopeful face. She'd been bereft
of both her children for far too long. He straightened up, saying decisively,
'Well what are we waiting for? Shall we depart?'
'We'll ride along with you,' Frodo said. 'I think our business here is
finished.'
'I sent Pippin off to the Smials last night; he's probably halfway there this
morning. I'd imagine he stopped off at a farm along the way,' Merry said. 'I'll
go with you, spend a night in Bywater,' he looked to Farmer Cotton, 'if I may,'
and receving a nod, went on, 'and then go on to the Smials to meet up with
Pippin. We'll be planning the campaign to drive the rest of the ruffians out.'
'If there's anything...' Odovacar began, turning to Finch.
The healer smiled and shook his head. 'I'll get everyone back to Budgeford,' he
said. 'I brought two waggons with me, hoping that the full score would have
survived.'
'Old Oakleaf is making everything ready for your return,' Odovacar said. His
gardener would make sure that the rebels would receive a heroes' welcome when
they crossed Budge Ford to enter the town, and he'd already arranged for quite
a few little comforts to be delivered to the homes of their families, courtesy
of the ruffians and the "gathered" goods they'd stashed in storeholes in the
Scary Hills.
'Home,' Rory said. 'A fine word it is; I can hardly believe it's still there.'
'That old wizard used to come around to tell us cheerful little tales. He liked
to promise us that he'd leave nothing standing,' Rocky said darkly.
'He said when he'd finished with the Shire, he'd let us free again, just so we
could crawl across the desert that the land had become, and mourn over the
homes and hobbits that were no more,' Stony said, pulling his wife closer.
'He's the one that's no more,' Frodo said, steel in his voice, curiously
mingled with regret. 'He cannot hurt the Shire or Shirefolk any longer.'
'Praise be,' Rory breathed. 'Did the hobbits rise up against him at last?'
'No,' Merry said quietly. 'Hobbits aren't that sort of folk. He was killed by
one of his own.'
