Hard Choices
Chapter Four

The very book Frodo had damaged was lying open before Rorimac's eyes. The new leather was bright and smooth on the binding. Frodo turned white, frozen where he was with one hand on the door-latch.

"What are you doing up here, boy?" growled Rory. "Your penance was over yesterday."

Frodo gulped. He had lost track of the days, and had come out of sheer habit. He stuttered out the first excuse he could think of. "I...I wanted to borrow a b...book."

Bilbo laughed and waved Frodo to his side. The boy obeyed instantly. "Look here, Frodo my lad. Here is your name," and he pointed at the open page on the desk. Frodo looked, and recognized the shape of the letters his mother had said spelled his name. They were at the end of a line that connected lots of other lines like a map, but they were all straight or sharp bent, and had other words scrawled about that he could not read. "Can you tell me what it says right under your name?"

"No, sir." Frodo confessed.

"You see, Rory, the lad must be tutored. We can't have Drogo and Primula's son growing up illiterate. And he's a Baggins... That's all right, my lad," Bilbo said to him kindly, "It says 'September the twenty-second'. That is my birthday, too, you know." Bilbo beamed at the lad, who smiled back tentatively. "Run down to the kitchen, now, and bring us back some tea, would you? Three cups!" he called after the running child.

Frodo dashed off to obey Bilbo's request, but heard with his quick ears Rory's comment, "Well, you do have a hand with the boy, I see..."

Frodo took his tea with his cousin and Master Rorimac, who behaved rather stiffly throughout the meal, but spoke very courteously to him. Frodo listened politely as the older hobbits talked, answering only question directed at him. He hoped that if he was very good, Bilbo would tell stories that night.

As he piled the dishes to return to the kitchen, Bilbo asked him in a whisper in his ear, "What story would you like to hear tonight?"

Frodo glanced apprehensively at the Master, then said very softly, "Elves, sir." Bilbo smiled at him and ruffled his curly hair.

Frodo did not get to hear any stories about elves that night, but he was not disappointed; Uncle Bilbo told them many other tales, all about the founding of the Shire and of Buckland. Frodo loved hearing such tales, having always been keenly interested in histories and legends. He sat with the other hobbit-lads and lasses, listening raptly. Bilbo ended the evening with a story about old Master Gorbadoc 'Broadbelt', Master Rorimac's father and Frodo's own grandfather. Everyone was laughing when he ended, and Rorimac was in such good humour that he actually patted Frodo on the head as he passed to say 'Good night' on the way out of the Hall. His own grandson Meriadoc was already down the hall and squeaking for a snack before bed.

Things went smoothly for the rest of the summer, and Frodo managed to stay out of trouble, or at least to avoid being caught at it, for he seemed to be unable to stay away from situations that lead easily to mischief. He began to face each day warily, as if he knew luck was running out on him.

One day, as he was playing a game with the other children outside the front of Brandy Hall, Frodo saw a small boat coming down the river toward the dock where the Ferry was moored. He paused in his game to watch it, remembering how his parents used to enjoy short jaunts on the river. The little craft was carried slowly to the dock, but the single occupant seemed to be having difficulty mooring the boat. Now closer, Frodo saw that the boater was a lady-hobbit. There were no older hobbits nearby, and since she was in danger of being swept past the dock and down-river, Frodo disobeyed Rorimac's order for him to stay away from the river.

He caught her thrown rope and tied it off deftly, and then stepped on the gunwale to steady the craft for her to step out. She disembarked gracefully, but before she could utter her thanks, Frodo felt his ear twisted and he was hauled back up the bank.

Rorimac was furious, and he scolded Frodo soundly as soon as he was calm enough to speak clearly. Frodo endured the harangue stoically, though he still smarted from the beating Rory had dealt him once he had brought the lad inside. He offered no excuse, and said nothing but "Yes, sir," and "No, sir," until Rorimac ran out of threats and curses. He went to his room without supper or dinner, but he felt too queasy to eat, anyway. He sat on his bed and stared out the window at the treetops far way, holding in a bleakness that seemed too big to contain.

After dinner, several of the younger hobbits dared to approach Rorimac and told him what had happened before the older hobbit had come out of the Hall and seen Frodo at the riverbank. The young lady hobbit that had been assisted out of her boat came to him and demanded to know why her gallant rescuer had been disiplined. Too proud to apologize to a child, Rorimac relented and sent food up with one of the aunties for Frodo.

She returned in dismay. Frodo was not in his room. A quick search proved that the boy was nowhere inside Brandy Hall. Night had fallen, so Rory gathered all the hobbits he could with lanterns to go out and look for the child. Menegilda was furious with her spouse, and shoved him out of the house with a lantern to go looking with the others.

They returned empty-handed. The Ferry-man had not seen him, nor the bridge-keepers. So the lad could only be in one of two places; fallen into the River, or lost in the Old Forest.

Rorimac called in the searchers for the night, ignoring the glares his wife dealt him. He told everyone to be ready in the morning to begin searching for his nephew. As he said this, he realized it was the first time he had ever thought of the boy as his own kin. He got no sleep that night.