You're My Light in the Dark

Chapter 7: A New Direction

"So, how are your heels feelin'?" Lauren asked. She rummaged through our wardrobe, getting ready for her night shift at the Green Dragon.

From my spot on our bed, I shot her what must've been a pathetic looking glance. "I hurt." I had to walk all over town today, delivering orders for Angelica's shop. Hobbiton is a hell of a lot bigger than I expected it to be. My heels have been feeling better as of late, but if I happen to over-use them, they certainly let me know it.

"That sucks," she said, her tone sympathetic.

I waved it off. "Eh, it's not like I can really do anything about it anyway."

"True," she nodded, and then pulled out a hat and scarf, throwing them onto the bed beside me. Seeing them reminded me of how it was nearing the end of autumn, how the cold was becoming crisper. Snow wasn't long off, we knew; growing up in New England certainly made us aware of the changes in seasons, what with the drastic weather we always put up with and all.

"I can't wait for it to snow," I commented.

"You'll be able to ice your heels once it does," she said.

"My thoughts exactly."

She hummed a bit to herself as she glanced over the sweater she just pulled out. "You know, when I was at the market earlier I heard people talking about how they thought it was going to rain tonight."

"Really now?" I murmured. "That's good; it hasn't rained in a while."

Lauren held up the sweater against her, frowning a bit. "What do you think, Kat?"

The sweater was pretty, I had to admit. It was creamy white in color with large stitches, a long torso and belled sleeves. "It's a bit too nice to wear to the pub for work, don't you think?" I said. "You might spill ale or something on it. Besides, one might think that you want to impress somebody wearing something as pretty as that." I gave her an impish look and she rolled her eyes, already knowing that I was teasing her.

"Hey, you never know who you're going to meet," she said in defense.

"Or run into," I added, nodding sensibly.

She raised an eyebrow. "What are you implying exactly, sister-dearest?"

I sighed dramatically, as if the answer was obvious. "Only that my baby sister may or may not have a thing for a certain Brandybuck, who frequently stops to have a drink at the pub she happens to work at."

She let out a laugh. "I barely even know him," she said with a little scoff, pulling on a darker colored dress. "And he doesn't stop by all that often."

"Often enough."

Lauren didn't make any sort of response to that, pointedly ignoring me as she stuffed the wool hat on her head.

"I bet he at least makes a point to talk to you when he is there," I continued on.

"You can be incredibly annoying, you know that, Kat?" she muttered exasperatedly.

"I learned from the very best," I answered, flashing my cheekiest grin.

She rolled her eyes but grinned back at me nonetheless. "Well only I am allowed to be annoying, all right? The pain is going to your head, I think. Go eat a cookie or something to get your mind off of it."

I gave her a salute as she turned for the door. "Aye, aye, mon capitane."

With a little wave in return she was off to work, leaving me all by my lonesome. It was an odd concept as of late, being alone. Usually there was always someone around between Lauren, Frodo, Bilbo, Lily, and Sam, not to mention Merry and Pippin's random visits. Therefore, having time alone wasn't a typical occurrence. I'm glad of this fact, for when I'm alone; I tend to think far too much.

And let's face it: regarding this whole Middle Earth situation, I certainly have a lot to think about.

I sighed a bit, gathering the effort to get up and actually take my sister's advice to heart. Perhaps she was right – maybe something sweet really would do me some good. I shuffled on down to the kitchen, where the sugar cookies we had baked earlier were still out on the counter cooling off. I stole one, letting the weight of it settle in the palm of my hand as I took a seat at the table.

It feels weird being in this house alone. The comfy atmosphere holds memories of many generations of Bagginses; of laughter, of cheer, of good times. This sort of atmosphere was something I hadn't experienced since my early childhood days, since before our dad left our family.

I always envied people who were lucky enough to be around this, because I knew it was something I would never have. And yet here I am, finding myself actually part of it for once. That's just how the Bagginses are, I've found. Their friends are their family, and to actually be included in that category was an amazing feeling. We've only known them for about a month now, and yet… they accepted us into the folds so quickly, so easily. I'm not altogether sure if it was simply due to the nature of hobbits as a whole race – friendliness and caring written right into their very genes – or if that was just the natures of Frodo and Bilbo Baggins.

Bilbo, as we've come to learn, is a very interesting fellow. He only ever drinks tea ("With nothing but a dash of lemon, lass; oh there you go, spot on!") or the occasional bit of liquor, and he always insists on having a slice of cheese with every meal, even at the two breakfasts. He holes himself up in his study most of the time to write of his travels, and for some reason Lauren and I really can't comprehend, he has taken an immense liking to the two of us. Perhaps it's because he believes us to be travelers, as he himself once was. He often asks us to tell him tales of our 'travels' and we find ourselves making up these elaborate stories in order to appease him. Or if we're feeling particularly uncreative one day, we even tell him tweaked versions of old Disney fairytales, claiming that they're old stories we've picked up along the way. We're always careful to tell of places he's never been – steering clear of any mention of dwarves or Mirkwood elves, etc – and we find ourselves writing down what we say not long after just to keep our white lies in order.

We hate lying but… do we really have a choice in the matter?

I gave a sigh and bit into the cookie; it was moist, but not really all that warm anymore. Nonetheless, it was still delicious. And I was grateful that there were still a few comfort foods to be found around these parts.

"Hullo, Kate-lass," a cheery voice said.

Speak of the devil...

"Hello, Mister Bilbo," I murmured, glancing up. He was leaning against the counter, eyeing me with a curious glance. His greying sandy blond hair was going every which way, giving the impression that he either just got out of bed, or that he's been pulling it out in frustration. Seeing as it was nearly four o'clock in the afternoon, I figured it had to be the latter. "How's the writing coming today?"

He scoffed, waving a hand in my direction as he stole a cookie. "Not too good, lass, not too good. The words aren't flowing today. I needed to take a break before I snapped my quill and quit the whole project altogether."

I nodded sympathetically; I knew that feeling all too well, had dealt with it for the better part of my life. While I had been a high level gymnast, those tricks never came to me easily. I had more of a work ethic than I did talent, I guess you could say. Therefore, I could easily relate.

But the truth is, we hardly ever see Bilbo outside of his study. Half the time one of us even brings his meals to him while he writes. So for him to have hit a writer's block such as this, to have to take a break outside of his sanctuary because of it, that was surely saying something.

I thought back to when I wrote my last essay for school, and how I went about writing it. I never really had a knack for writing per se; I was much more of an athlete than anything else, so I wasn't sure if my advice would actually be of use to him.

"When you write, do you sit there searching for the words you want to use?" I asked.

Bilbo seemed surprised by the question. "Well, yes, that's generally how one gets the words on paper." He gobbled up the rest of his cookie then proceeded to grab another.

"I was just thinking… that maybe, if you put your writing aside for a bit, took your mind off it, you know? That maybe, instead of you searching for the words, the words just might find you instead." It worked often enough during gym practices – have a bad day on bars, so you leave bars to go work on drills or another event instead. More often than not, when you went to go swing on bars the next day, the skills that had been evading you before would catch on later.

He stood there for a moment, just looking at me with a wide, blank stare; cookie half-hanging out of his mouth and everything. I was tempted to laugh at his boggled state, but didn't dare as I was afraid that I had offended him enough already. And suddenly, he was the one that was laughing. The old hobbit has beaten me to it. "That may very well be the best piece of advice I've heard in some time, lass," he said, coming over and ruffling my hair up.

I scowled a bit, the hand on my head making me feel somewhat like a pet dog. "You're welcome?"

"I have been working too much, haven't I?" he continued on, "Can't really be helped though, I'm afraid, have to get all my thoughts down as quickly as possible before all my memories fly out of my head." He stretched then, arms reaching up high, his hands almost knocking against the lamp that hung from the ceiling above our heads. And as he took a seat across from me, he looked wearier than I had ever seen him. "How is Frodo?"

I found that his eyes held genuine concern, as if he honestly didn't know. Lauren and I may have only been here for a month, but since we've met him, Bilbo has spent the majority of his time locked up in his study. So to be honest, the question didn't really surprise me.

Frodo has confided in me on more than one occasion on how he worries about Bilbo's health.

"My uncle's not a young hobbit anymore," he had said, biting his lip. "He might not look it, but he's one of the oldest hobbits around."

"Really now? You wouldn't know it by just looking at him." And that's when I had remembered about the Ring of Power, since it was undoubtedly the Ring Bilbo carried around in his pocket that's been preserving his youthfulness.

"He works himself too hard for his age," Frodo had murmured.

It seems that now though, I had actually convinced Bilbo to take a little break from his writing. Both were so concerned about the other… their bond was palpable, despite the fact that they haven't spent much time together lately. It made me wonder just how Frodo came to be Bilbo's ward in the first place.

It was too bad that I was the one having this conversation with the old hobbit. Frodo should be here talking to him right now, not me. And that thought brought me back to some of my earlier musings; of how we've been welcomed into the fold, how we've become friends with that small group of hobbits. They went out of their way to give us a place in the world, and yet… Lauren and I still don't quite fit in. And I don't mean that we didn't fit in as hobbits, because actually, we've started adapting quite well.

But in the world of Middle Earth overall, now that was a different story.

We might have been able to fool our friends into thinking that we're Middle Earth-ians, which I'm pretty ashamed of – these people have been so good to us, and this is how we repay them? By lying to them? And yet, at the same time, I'm glad. Because without them, where would we be? (Not to mention what they would think if we did actually tell them where we're from.)

But when you get down to it, the truth is: we don't fit. We're not meant to be here. Just our mere presence could alter things terribly.

But… I've been thinking about it. And really, would some changes be such a bad thing? Isn't it possible to change things for the better?

"Kate-lass?" Bilbo's voice brought me back to the present, and he gave my arm a shake. "You don't look too well, my dear."

I went to speak, but found my throat was dry. So I gave a little cough. "M'fine," I rasped out.

"So Frodo has really been that bad, huh?" Bilbo asked with a small, sad smile.

You've got to get your act together, Kat ole girl. Can't be spacing out during conversations anymore, ya hear? The thought popped up, sounding way too much like something my dear friend Jill would say. Oh boy, I really am going crazy.

I shook my head. "No, no, Frodo's been great." … And he'll be doing even better when he hears you're taking a vacation, I wanted to add. But I didn't. Instead I nibbled on yet another cookie, listening half-heartedly as Bilbo went on to tell amusing stories of Frodo's fiascoes as a boy, all the while saying how he had been such a silly little child; a rascal if you will.

Frodo was one of the kindest, gentlest people I've ever known. But silly was certainly not an adjective that came to mind. I wondered where that silly part of him went.

I also wondered when Lauren was due to return home. We have a lot to talk about.

"You're absolutely nuts, you know that, Kat? But what the hell? I'm in."

That's what her answer had been.

So that was that. We were going to try and change things for the better. Only we had no idea how we were going to actually go about it.

"I hope you realize that this is going to be easier said than done," I said, since it didn't seem as if she altogether understood the situation. It was nearly three in the morning, and we were in Bag End's massive study, history scrolls piled about all around us, reading them by the dim lighting of the oil lamps. We decided that we had to catch up on the history of the Dark Lord and the Second Age, and I was racking my brain trying to remember what little I had read about it in the Lord of the Rings appendices a while back. Thing was though, Bilbo didn't really have all that many texts on those sorts of things, so it was mainly just me and my recollections.

And Lauren was treating the whole ordeal like another one of her skating practices: let's go in, do what we need to do, and be done with it. Easy-weasy lemon-squeezy. It was almost as if she agreed to help me do this just to pass the time. 'Or then again, maybe not,' I thought with a sigh as she then proceeded to chuck a scroll at the wall. With Lauren, it always seemed to be that way. She probably cared a lot more about it than she let on. She has gotten quite close with that Brandybuck and Took, after all, so perhaps she was even doing this for them.

"Did the scroll really offend you that much?" I asked mildly.

She glared at the scroll that now lay on the floor across the room, as if it had done her some injustice. "That one was in fucking Elvish," she growled. "We've been at this for hours. And we haven't learned anything new, nothing that we didn't already know from before. I don't think this is going to help us at all."

"You never know. It just might," I said placatingly, binding back up the text I had just been skimming through.

"You and your fucking books," she muttered darkly. "You know what I think might be a better way of passing our time? That might be of some actual help to us?" She stood up abruptly, and looked down at me with about the dirtiest glare she could muster. "Our training."

Later on that morning after the sun had risen, Frodo sat out on Bag End's doorstep, a book propped open on his lap. Samwise was not too far off, putting the finishing touches on the garden. Winter was going to blow in soon, so everything had to be all set before the first snow of the season.

"So where are the two sisters?" Sam asked.

"Out," Frodo replied with a little wave of his hand, eyes never glancing up away from the book's pages. "They left pretty early this morning. I think they said something about dragging Merry and Pippin 'out for a run' or something of that sort. I dunno. I was half asleep when they told me about it and you know how they say things oddly sometimes."

From his spot on all fours planting bulbs, Sam nodded his agreement. "They do have a queer way about them, don't they?"

"It's part of their charm, really," Frodo murmured. "Their opinions are rather refreshing, I must admit."

"They're a lot like you and Mister Bilbo in that respect, eh?" Sam commented.

At that, Frodo did look up.

"Meaning no offense, of course," he continued on quickly. "It's just that they're different, bound to be after travelin' about so. There's nothin' wrong with being interested in the world outside the Shire after all."

"O' course," Frodo agreed with a small smile, gesturing to the Elvish text he was currently reading through.

"I myself would love to see an Elf some day," Sam said, giving the soil one last pat before getting back up to his feet, brushing his hands against the legs of his trousers. "But I doubt I'll be so lucky."

"But you just might be."

Sam gave him a look clearly saying, 'Pffft, no.'

He shrugged in response. "Who knows? I just might end up dragging you on an adventure some day. And we'll go visit the Elves, I promise you." Frodo was only half-joking with that statement. It's been an idea he's had since he was a boy, to go traveling and visit far away places like his Uncle Bilbo had done.

"Really now?" Sam said with a smile. "I might take you up on that offer then. My old Gaffer probably won't be too keen on the idea, though. 'Gotta keep yer nose outta trouble, Samwise,' is what he always says. 'Don't go lookin' for it and none will come to ya.'"

"I wouldn't dream of getting you in trouble with your Gaffer," Frodo replied.

Sam shook his head. "Just because he won't be keen on it doesn't mean I won't go," he rebutted.

"So it's settled then."

Sam nodded, and then frowned. "Wait… Did you just hear—?"

Frodo marked his page and then put the book aside, listening real closely for anything unusual. But there didn't seem to be. Just the birds chirping overhead, fallen leaves scuttling down the dirt road as the wind blew them what ways it pleased. He was just about to tell him that no, he didn't hear anything, that Sam was just imagining things. But then, there was a shout. A couple of shouts, actually; loud whoops of joy, and then laughter. They both went over to the edge of the garden and peered over the hedges and down the road that led toward the center of town. And that's when they saw them: four hobbits – Merry, Pippin, Kate, and Lauren, to be exact – the lot of them with their pockets bulging. In fact, anyone who didn't know the Tamsin sisters well enough might even mistake them for lads at first glance, seeing as the girls both had their hair pulled back tight and were clad in brown trousers and white cotton tunics. The four came to a skidding halt at the edge of garden in front of them, their faces bright red and their chests heaving.

"What did you do?" Sam questioned, his tone one of accusation.

The four could only gasp for air. They were having a hard enough time trying to catch their breaths, never mind talk.

"You lot ran here all the way from the Marish, didn't you?" Frodo realized, taking note of the carrot sticking out of Pippin's pocket.

A grunt and several slow nods were his only replies. "Poor Farmer Maggot," Sam commented.

"But that's an awful long way aways from here," Frodo said with a frown.

"No shit," Lauren rasped, glancing briefly over at Merry as he toppled over with a groan.

Kat was sitting down at this point, clutching at her feet as she huffed. "Stop… complaining. All… your idea." She even pointed an accusing finger in her sister's direction, but it was weak and tired looking.

"Good exercise," was all Lauren said in reply.

Frodo felt as if he was left out on a crucial part of their conversation, but wasn't altogether sure if he really wanted to be let in on it.