Chapter 5: The Guardian

Celandine Took was older than Eos by four years, Berylla by two years. Eos had been the smallest of the three, Berylla the tallest, Celandine the most powerfully built.

Celandine had the darkest complexion, and disobedient dark brown curls. She had always been the most stubborn and staunch of the Took girls. The people on the farms and remote countryside said that this was the reason for which she had not found a husband until very recently. Many men found her hard to reason with. Still, she made a loyal housewife, and was never known to shirk any of her duties in her life.

Berylla, the middle sister and the most cheerful, was Eos's favorite, as rumors had it. She was round-faced and had golden-brown hair, along with unbeatably good humor. The latter complemented her main vice, which was her feebleness. She had married shortly before Eos did, and now had a son who was about eleven.

The two came to the Cottons' shortly after second breakfast. Farmer Cotton cordially invited them in and ushered them to the sitting room, where Rosie had set a tea tray. He then called to Frodo that his guests were here.

Frodo greeted them and sat across from them. Frodo was about to speak when Crystal ran in, clutching her doll and sporting the clean hand-me-down pinafore Rosie had given her. She climbed into Frodo's lap. "Frodo! Frodo! Rosie says she can take me down to the Tunellys' farm and I can meet their little girl and the baby. Can I go, Frodo?"

"Whoa, Crystal," said Frodo, setting her down. "Before you do anything, say hello to your aunts." He turned her around to face the two women.

"Hello, Aunt Celandine. Hello, Aunt Berylla." Crystal went up to each of them and kissed them on the cheek. Then she ran back to Frodo, face expectant.

Frodo sighed. Should he start acting like her parent when her guardians were here? "Maybe, Crystal. We'll see. Just run along and play now. I'll tell you later."

Crystal went obediently to her room. Berylla glanced at her thoughtfully and turned back to Frodo. "I wonder, has she given you a hard time yet, Mr. Baggins?"

"Quite the opposite, Miss Berylla. The girl's been good as gold, thus far." He glanced after the little girl. "I wouldn't think it possible for her to trouble you too much to take her back?"

The sisters glanced at one another. "That's what we wanted to talk to you about," said Berylla. She held up a hand as Frodo opened his mouth. "It is not what you think. For now, I only ask you to hear our explanation. Celandine?"

"You see, Mr. Baggins," said Celandine, "Our family does business with the mills around the area. While Sharkey's occupation, his people took away most of our mills. So now we are rather tight on money, having been out of business for a while. Everard and Reginard are in the same status as well, down in Tighfield. Mr. Baggins, we cannot afford to accommodate any more children."

Frodo could not believe what he was hearing. "So… you are telling me…"

"Keep the girl, Mr. Baggins," said Berylla. "I believe Eos would have appreciated it," she added, quietly. Frodo almost drew back. How many people knew about him and Eos?

Celandine laughed softly. "So send Crystal to visit the Tunellys' farm and their daughter. From now on, she will be your little girl."

Frodo was reading by the fire when Crystal came back. She immediately climbed into Frodo's lap, bubbling with excitement.

"The girl said she liked my doll," she said, "and the baby has brown eyes, like me, but its hair sticks up, like grass!"

"Hm," said Frodo a bit lazily, softly stroking her hair. "And does she want you to go back?"

"She didn't say, but her mama does." Crystal settled back in Frodo's arms. She became fascinated in Frodo's book. "Why doesn't it have pictures?"

"Because, when you grow up, you don't need pictures anymore when you read," he replied, kissing the tousled brown curls.

Crystal yawned, saying, "I'm not growing up. I want books with pictures." Frodo laughed softly, then put the book down. "I think I do have a book with pictures," he said, leaning over to reach a pile of books at his feet. "Ah, right here." It was a volume in which elves had translated some of their legends, including Luthien and Beren. The water colored paintings drew Crystal to it at once.

"But I can't read though."

"Then, I think it's about time."

Eos was hunched over a beer in the Prancing Pony. She hadn't bothered to tie her long black hair back, for it shielded her face from anyone who would recognize her.

Barliman Butterbur came by and placed a plate of food in front of her. Her fingers shook from the lack of nourishment as she brought it closer and attacked it like a wolf would fresh meat. I'm pathetic, she thought. Who would have thought Eos Took would be living a hand to mouth existence, and in Bree of all places?

There was always a group of drinkers in the inn that brought in news from the Shire and the borders of Bree. Eos liked to listen to what they had to say.

"Tom, there is no danger of ruffians anymore," said one of the gossipers. "Sure, there'll be a pickpocket now and then, but no more army under that Sharkey we heard about yonder. I have better news, my fellers."

They all leaned in closer. "That Mr. Baggins, you know the one who came back?" Eos's ears pricked.

"You mean, the one who said to call him Mr. Underhill the first time?"

"Yeah, that one. I heard he took a little girl into his custody."

Eos's heart did a somersault.

"What!" They leaned in even closer. "Now, where'd ye hear that, Bob?"

"That Robin Smallbarrow, the member of the Shire Watch. He was put on patrol on the borders and dropped by."

"Mr. Baggins, you say, took a girl into his custody?" Eos asked quietly as she approached them. The man named Bob nodded to the rest, and they shifted to allow the hobbit lady in.

"Quite true, madam, quite true."

"Are you sure this is no rumor?"

"As far as we know, Robin Smallbarrow tells no lies."

"May I ask which little girl?"

The men guffawed loudly. "Why, a drunkard shirriff who bought illegal pipeweed from southern ruffians! Olo – Proudfoot – yes, that's the name. Someone reported him, Mr. Baggins took his little girl, and he's been caring for her ever since. He dotes in her, and taught her to read, even, as I gather."

Eos struggled not to look astonished. "And what say had the mother in this?"

"Ah, that's the interesting part. 'Round the end of October, she disappeared, without a trace. Had a queer name, Eos, I think. She was one of the Tooks. Anyway, people came up with all kinds of stories. Some say Olo knocked her cold and abandoned her somewhere far away, others say she ran away to escape from her marriage. Oh yes, they also say Olo beat Eos and their little girl often."

"In that case, I shan't blame her for running," said the man named Tom. "But I wonder, why wouldn't she bring her girl with her?"

"No one knows. But curious, anyhow."

Eos was silent for a moment. Then she stirred and said, "Thank you gentlemen, for this piece of news." She took the mug of beer from her table and went to her room. The group of men began speaking of the anticipated harvest and the farmers.

Eos closed the door and leaned against it for a few minutes, quietly letting the news she had heard sink in. Was she supposed to laugh or cry? Frodo's got my little girl. Was she to feel shame or joy? He taught her to read. He dotes on her, that man said.

She started throwing items into the pack she had brought along. Among them were her crochet hook, knitting needles, needle book, and cards of wool. She put on a pendant her mother had given her as a baby, a silver nightingale.

An hour later, she was camping in a bramble of bushes at the edge of Bree.

She was going back.

Frodo and Crystal had developed a nighttime tradition of reading in the big armchair by the fire before Frodo carried Crystal to bed. Crystal quickly picked up reading, and soon, Frodo let her read tall tales and elvish lore to him.

Tonight, though, Frodo was reading more advanced lore to Crystal. When he looked at her after he was finished, she was fast asleep in his arms, her lips in a little pout.

Frodo loved looking at her pout long after she had gone to sleep. It made her look so impotent and innocent that it melted his heart. It also reminded him of Eos when he knew her, and how her lips were in each of her different moods. Frodo shook his head. Would he ever stop thinking of Eos when he looked at her daughter?

He took a quilt draped over a nearby chair and covered them both with it. Crystal made a small mew in her throat and snuggled closer to his chest. Frodo's arms held her tightly. He would always love this little girl, even when she grew older and wanted to run after the lads at parties. He would always be the father figure in her life, if not her blood father.

And she would carry his love throughout her life.

There was a knock on the door, and Sam came in. "It is way past Her Royal Highness's bedtime," he said, grinning at the sight of the two of them. He liked to call Crystal Her Royal Highness these days, since she demanded so much of Frodo's attention.

"I'll take her to bed presently, Sam. She's asleep anyway."

Sam watched Frodo cradle her. A question came out of the blue. "Why do you care so much for one girl? Surely you don't do all this out of charity?"

"What does 'all this' mean?"

"Reading to her every night, buying her trinkets every week, doting on her."

"I guess…" Frodo paused a moment. "I guess… I couldn't take misery out of everyone's lives by destroying the Ring, but I feel whole when give one person happiness."

There was silence. Then Sam said, "I guess Olo wasn't too happy at the trial when he saw his daughter clinging to you. I remember that he said, 'Don't hide behind someone who ain't your father!'"

"I can understand. I wouldn't like to be in his position. Ten years in the Lockholes, my, my."

They both laughed. Frodo stood up, picking up Crystal. As Sam went past him to bank the flames, he carried Crystal to her room. He tucked her in, kissed her forehead, and left.

Crystal curled up into a ball under the covers in the moonlight after he had gone. She dreamed that her mother had come back to her, saying, "Sweet, where is Frodo?"

A.N.: Readers, if Frodo starts sounding a bit too much like Atticus from "To Kill A Mockingbird", do tell me.