The Family Tree
Chapter Two
Frodo's shame did not die in that hour, or on that day after his meeting with Farmer Maggot. For a whole week Frodo was to endure penance ordered by Rorimac, the Master of the Hall, who was Frodo's guardian. He had been set to dusting the old books in the Master's study, and to oil the old crackling leather spines and covers. His punishment was made worse by the mockery of his peers, the scores of young fellows living in the vast Hall. Merciless in youth, they taunted the capitulated Baggins, compounding his misery.
Now he sat alone in the library, carefully wiping decades of dust from an old manuscript of family linage. He had long hours to reflect bitterly on his ill fate, and to feed the rebellious flames that grew in his heart. He thumped the old book aside, heedless of it's ancientry, and stalked to the window to look out at the trees that stood tall behind the High Hay, which ran along the eastward side of the Hall. No one would miss him, he thought glumly, if he were to disappear into those dark trees and never return.
In that moment he most missed his parents, whose untimely death had stranded him here, one child among many, instead of the loved and protected child he had been; the treasure and pride of his doting parents. What a cruel world this was, he thought, and then the tears were no longer for himself. They flowed down his cheeks as memories came to him slowly of his mother and father, indistinct and fragmented. Shocked, he realized that he could barely recall his mother's face.
'How can you wallow about in self-pity like this?' he scolded himself. He wiped his eyes and sniffed, then turned back to his chore. He would not again dishonour his mother's memory. Angry with himself, he rubbed the book cover with excessive force, and was dismayed as it came apart in his hands.
He gaped at the ruined book. Now he would never get back into the Master's good grace! Vainly, he tried to pat the cover back together, but the old leather was too worn. It crumbled in his hands. As the young hobbit contemplated places where he might hide this disaster, the library door opened suddenly, and Frodo was caught in a guilty spotlight.
An older hobbit stood in the doorway, seeming surprised to find anyone in the musty old study. "Hullo! And what are you doing in here on such a fine summer day?" He saw the damaged book in Frodo's hands then, and with an exclamation took it from him. "And did you do this, now? Well, there's no need to cry over it. These things can be mended."
To Frodo's intense embarrassment, he realized that there were tears on his face. He dashed them away angrily, and said in a breaking voice, "'m not crying!"
The hobbit looked briefly at the manuscript in his hand, then down at Frodo's proud but splotchy face. "Ah, I see. Forgive me, my lad. I have come in at a bad time. Master Rorimac gave me permission to borrow a couple of his books. Why don't I just take this old thing, too? And when I get home to the Bag End, I will fix it up a treat, and have it back before anyone thinks to look for it. What do you say to that?"
Frodo lowered his proud eyes in genuine gratitude. "Thank you, sir."
Bilbo smiled. He was pleased to find a young hobbit in a library, and one so sensitive and spirited. "Frodo, isn't it? Drogo's boy? I am glad to know that you read, young Frodo. Too few do, and I didn't realize that old Rory had taken time to teach young ones their letters."
"Mum taught me, sir" Frodo said in a small voice. "I only read a little, sir." He opened his mouth to confess the true reason that he was in the study, but Bilbo interrupted him.
"You must call me 'Uncle Bilbo', my dear boy. Actually we are cousins, but that's no nevermind. Can only read a little, eh? Well, you are in the right place to learn more. And when you have, then you will know how much you still do not know." Bilbo frowned. "Did that make any sense to you? I doesn't to me, no matter how many times I say it."
Frodo did not have a clue what his cousin was talking about, but he smiled at him shyly. Bilbo was kind and friendly, and Frodo felt his heavy heart lifting a little for the first time in many days.
"That's better!" exclaimed Bilbo, patting the child's shoulder. "Now keep at it! I will see you later at supper." He left the room with the torn book under his arm, humming a tune.