DISCLAIMER: Belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. I make no profits from it.
Chapter Four: Misgivings
1 October, 1418 S.R.
Hobbiton
She slept fitfully, wandering through senseless dreams she could not remember. Marigold could hear voices in some of them, faint voices that sounded vaguely familiar, but before she could put a face on them the voices were gone and the dream changed. She could not pinpoint the time she had awoken, but a voice rose above the rest, clear and steady, and the lass finally found herself in the real world.
"Master Gamgee?"
"Aye, that's me." She heard her father's familiar voice and opened her eyes, staring up at the low ceiling and listening.
"I have a letter here for you from the Master and Mistress of Buckland. They wished it delivered personally."
"Buckland? I reckon this has somethin' to do with Sam and them." She heard a pause, and muffled sounds as though papers were being exchanged.
"I presume you've heard about the attack on Buckland, yesterday morning?"
"Aye, my daughters mentioned somethin' bout that. Put it off as gossip and nonsense, I did."
"I wish it were so," the voice of the messenger dropped by a few keys and became somewhat graver. Marigold strained to hear. "But it's all in the letter. Good day to you, Master Gamgee. I ought to be on my way. Other letters from Brandy Hall to deliver."
"Good day." She heard the door to their modest yet comfortable hole click shut, and imagined her father was heading towards the kitchen table. A letter! From the Brandybucks, straight to them, simple, working-class hobbits! Marigold felt anxious, as though all of her worst fears were about to be confirmed.
"Goldie!"
The lass jumped straight up in bed, blue eyes darting wildly around the room until she found the source of the voice. It was her older sister, who she shared the room with, standing in the doorway from the kitchen looking both exasperated and amused. She had an apron hanging over her dress and was wiping her hands on it as she looked at Marigold.
"Daisy?"
"Of course, silly. Who'd you think it was? You've been sleepin' for far too long. Missed first breakfast, and about to miss second. You're not feeling ill, are you? Mayhaps the fog yesterday..." A look of matronly concern flashed across Daisy's face and for a moment, Marigold saw her mother in her sister's features. It was a faint reminder of how much the Gamgee siblings had needed each other after their mother's death, when Marigold was so young, not even in her teens. Feeling a surge of affection for her usually quite annoying sister, Marigold shook her head fervently.
"No, no. I feel fine. I just... couldn't get to sleep yesterday, and had a bad dream. Or two. But I'm all fine now." As a matter of fact, she was quite hungry, and could not believe she had missed an entire meal.
"In that case, get yourself presentable and come help me with the food."
They were soon gathered around their table- quite large for a group of three, for when family members with their new families came to call- sipping tea and eating the small meal. Daisy and Marigold's Gaffer soon brought up the letter. Goldie had been dying to read it, but she knew if she asked her father about it, he would go off on a lecture about her "wanting' to know more than is necessary fer a lass o' your age". If he brought it up himself, they could all discuss it to their hearts' content. It was a quirk of her Gaffer's, one that often frustrated her.
"I reckon the both of ye heard the messenger at the door early on- hailed from Buckland, he said. Now, I don't know what them fancy folk from over the River are doing writing to us, but it ought to be important."
He passed the envelope to Goldie in an unspoken agreement. She had learned her letter alongside Sam in Bag End, and while tales of elves and dragons had not captured her heart quite like her brother's, they had done a fiar share of work. Sliding the letter out of the carefully sealed envelope she unfolded it and began to read, somewhat haltingly, in her loud voice.
"To Master Hamfast Gamgee and Family
Number Three Bagshot Row
Hobbiton, Westfarthing
Mr. Gamgee;
I know that we have never met properly, save for several short visits to Bag End over the years, but I, and my husband, felt that this matter was serious enough to be addressed in a personal letter. You are, of course, aware that you son Sam had accompanied Mr. Frodo Baggins on his move to Crickhollow in Buckland. You may have also heard rumours about an attack on the area. I felt that clearing up the facts and details of the matter with you and your family was the least we could do.
In the early morning of the thirtieth of Halimath, a hobbit named Fredegar Bolger- a close friend of Frodo Baggins and his company- came rushing up to the door of the house nearest to Frodo's new home in Crickhollow. It was a good mile away and Fredegar was quite out of breath, but he said several disjointed words about an attack and him not having something. The Brandybucks understood that there had been an attack of some sort on the area and we sounded the traditional horn call for danger.
Before we could take matter into out own hands, however, several black shapes on horses galloped towards the Bree road as quickly as they could, nearly running down several hobbits. We determined that they had broken into Frodo's home in Crickhollow. There was a torn cloak, one belonging to Frodo, lying in front of the door.
We questioned Fredegar in a small group after he had come to his senses. He swore us to secrecy and did not tell us much, but he did tell us some bare details. Apparently, Frodo Baggins had left his new home on a very- he stressed the word very- important and secret mission the same evening he had arrived. He was accompanied by your son Sam, my nephew Peregrin Took, and my son Merry Brandybuck. Fredegar had, apparently, remained to watch the hosue and distract potential visitors. He would not say much on the topic of where our las had gone, only saying a word or two about the Old Forest.
I know how worried you must be about your son, and our hearts go out to you, for we find ourselves in the same position. I hope you can find comfort in the fact that they were well on their way when the Black Men attacked Buckland, and that the Men did not take off down the same road as them.
If you or any of your family have any questions or concerns- or any news about our sons- please feel free to write to us here at Brandy Hall. This is a sad situation, but perhaps all will be soon resolved.
Yours,
Esmeralda Brandybuck, Mistress of Brandy Hall
Saradoc Brandybuck, Master of Brandy Hall and Buckland"
She looked up from the letter, hands shaking ever-so-slightly, not meeting her father's or her sister's eyes. The letter had settled her burning questions, and suddenly fear for her favorite brother consumed all other feelings. She folded the letter again and slid it back into the envelope, putting it down on the table and folding her hands tightly on her lap. Sam! Her mind was calling his name as though he could answer. Sam! What in the world is happening?!
"Adventurin'. I always knew he'd go off about it, just not that he'd do it quite so soon. I knew trouble was brewin' when old Master Gandalf paid me that visit a day or two ago." Hamfast Gamgee's voice was as gruff and disdainful as ever, but his daughters recognized a thread of worry behind the words.
"All those dragons and elves and swords. I knew they'd get to him," Daisy's voice was low and it sounded as though she were about to cry.
Marigold had been silent during her family's comments, and suddenly she felt her temper flaring. She willed it to go back down. Now was not the time. She was not angry at anyone in particular, only at the whole wide world and the powers behind it. "Don't blame the elves and swords. Blame Gandalf. And Master Frodo. And the Black Men. And Buckland. Don't blame Master Bilbo's stories."
There had always been a very soft spot in her heart for those stories, especially the ones about Rivendell and the elves of the Last Homely House. Suddenly, Marigold felt as though she needed air. Fresh, cool air. Her head was pounding from all the information she'd just uncovered, her heart was aching with worry for her brother, her throat was aching from all careful the reading she had been doing. Air.
"I'm going to go down to Bywater and the Cottons after we finish eating. They're as good as family, and I know they will want to know." The Gaffer nodded in approval of her idea, and Daisy added her own words.
"I told Bolco- Chubb, that is- that I'd take a walk with him before elvenses. Are you sure you'll be alright alone here, da? I could mayhaps ask him to come back here..."
Marigold glanced at her sister with narrowed eyes, the respect and appreciation from earlier diminishing somewhat. "Bolco Chubb? Still?"
Daisy looked up just as sharply. "Yes, still, Marigold. You're the one goin' off straight to Young Tom Cotton's place, might I remind you?"
Tensions were running high, and Goldie yearned to make a sharp reply, but she thought better of it and shook her head in surrender. The Gaffer, meanwhile, told Daisy to go on, that he had work to do in the garden and would be well on his own.
- - -
She was dressed and ready quite soon, and left the house with a quick goodbye. Marigold had the letter tucked into her pocket and set off swiftly down Bagshot Row. As she reached the lane heading upward to the door of Bag End, however, she glanced up to see a strange sight. Three men- Big Men, just like the one she'd seen in the cart not long ago- stood at the door. They did not look like any she had ever seen before, leastways not at the door to her beloved Bag End, and the sight scared her quite a lot.
Suddenly, Marigold saw one of them turning around. Something deep within her- intuition, perhaps, better known as good Hobbit-sense- warned her that being spotted staring quite openly up at the Men was not a good idea. The lass ducked behind the corner of Widow Rumble's smial and stayed put for a minute, breathing heavily and worriedly. She looked up after a short while to find the Men gone, clearly inside of Bag End.
Her heart, already full of concern and worry, seemed to swell up even more. As the lass set off quickly down the familiar road, she had only one thought floating in her mind. What is happening?!