You're My Light in the Dark
Chapter 15: Moments of Passing Years — February
One dreary, late February day with rain flooding the streets, I was occupying my time by tidying up Bag End. Bilbo enjoys clutter. And, well, as we go about our days, the clutter tends to accumulate in rather unexpected ways. So when I woke up that morning and knocked over a stack of books about waist high – topped with a mug, no less – in the hallway as I opened my bedroom door, it was obvious that it was time to reorganize.
The library Bilbo accumulated over the years is quite impressive. The walls of Bilbo's study are lined with large wooden bookshelves, ornate with flowered vine carvings along the front edges. The only wall in the study not covered with books is the outer wall that features a grand window overlooking the side yard. There are even more bookshelves in the den, framing the fireplace. The problem is, all these shelves are largely empty half the time. You see, as Bilbo grabs different books for notes and references he often forgets to put them back. To make matters worse, he's usually so engrossed with his thoughts that he tends to not notice where he leaves things. Which is why, from time to time, we find things in very odd places – like when we find books or quills in the kitchen cupboards.
Placing another large pile of books on a chair in the den — a holding place so I could categorize them back on the shelves — I yelped and nearly jumped out of my skin when I turned around and saw that Bilbo had puttered into the room when my back was to the doorway. He can be incredibly quick, and also unbelievably quiet, that old hobbit.
"Sorry for the mess, Kate-lass," he said with a small, apologetic smile. But even as he spoke the words, he grabbed half the books I'd just collected from around the house and went about his way with them. As soon as he left the room I pinched the bridge of my nose as hard as I could.
No matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to keep up.
That was how Lauren, Lily, and Rosie found me just a moment later as they made their way through the front door. They were drenched from head to toe, their feet slicked with mud, their skirts dripping, with water quickly pooling on the floor around them.
"I hate getting caught in sudden downpours; on dirt roads, no less. One of the only bad things about living around here, I swear," Lauren griped as she rung out her hair.
Rosie placed their packages on the table in the front hall before waving a hand at her coworker. "We told you a storm was comin'."
"Couldn't help it," Lauren replied, "You know we needed cheese."
"Yes, yes, I know."
I had to cut in at that. "No we didn't, Laur – I just went to the market and got cheese yesterday. There's no way we've gone through it all that fast."
"We needed more," my sister said ominously, wiggling her eyebrows. Lily giggled and Rosie had an enormous grin. Immediately I knew something was up.
"What did you guys do?" I questioned and crossed my arms, looking down my nose at them, giving them a suspicious I know you're up to something look. I only received more giggles, this time from all three of them. This is not boding well for me. Not at all. As I started to back up slowly, that was when Lily and Lauren sauntered across the hall, into the den, and I was cornered against the fireplace. "Rosie, I thought you were more sensible than these two. What's going on?"
Rosie was smiling so broadly I could see the dimples in her cheeks even from across the room. "It's a surprise – you'll like it, you'll see."
It didn't matter how much I protested. I didn't have much of a choice but to comply when Lauren and Lily each grabbed an arm and started pulling me toward the kitchen.
Rosie is really a fabulous teacher – very patient and encouraging, even after I burned the first batch of chicken to a crisp and added the wrong spice to the potatoes. "All right – now slip the pan over the fire. You have to remember to sift the potatoes every so often so they all cook evenly."
The big surprise was that Lauren talked Rosie into helping me learn how to cook. And it was going a lot better than I thought it would. I had a hard enough time cooking before, even with the aid of microwaves, ovens, and electric stoves. Cooking straight over a fire and without pre-packaged ingredients is still a scary prospect for me. But with Rosie's guidance, learning how to cook was a lot easier than it ever was with my easily annoyed sister. Lauren has a natural knack for cooking; she just kind of experiments with her ingredients, and somehow her creations come out pretty decent. But that method is utterly unhelpful when it comes to my need for step-by-step instructions and exact measurements since Lauren's instructions are usually along the lines of, "well, just add however much you want."
"Rosie, I really appreciate you coming over here and teaching me some of your recipes," I said as I stepped away from the fireplace, throwing the potholder on the table.
"It's my pleasure," she replied warmly. "I enjoy sharing my recipes with friends."
Lily, from her seat across the table, chuckled. "Doesn't Prim have a problem with one of her own sharing Green Dragon secrets?" She was, of course, talking about Primrose Boffin, who owns the Green Dragon with her husband Essel. Essel focuses his efforts on making the pub's famous ale, while Prim manages the restaurant.
Rosie shook her head. "Prim can't mind too much – I helped improve the menu when I started working there. Half of the new dishes were my ideas."
"Well that certainly explains why our boss loves you so much," Lauren said wryly through a mouthful of bread and cheese.
Lily gave a concerned frown, misinterpreting my sister's sense of humor. "Prim doesn't like you, Lauren?" Lily asked. Rosie gave a little laugh, eyes twinkling, already knowing my sister all too well after working together a good deal at the Green Dragon. She, like me, was expecting the ridiculous response. Lily, on the other hand, missed the sarcasm in my sister's words.
"Oh no, Prim loves me too," Lauren explained before quickly adding, "Everybody does. After all, what's not to love?" With her arms spread wide, she looked every bit the arrogant chit that she is.
Lily scoffed, dipped a hand into the bin of flour, and playfully threw a bit at my sister. Only… it caught Lauren in the face. She spluttered and a look of shocked indignance crossed her features, as if she couldn't believe Lily actually had the gall to do that. Of course, for my sister, retaliation was the only logical thought that followed.
Oh no.
Flour was everywhere. Rosie and I were absolutely covered, even though neither of us had even contributed to the mess. Every time we tried to make a move to intervene and put a stop to the madness, both Lauren and Lily threw a handful of flour at us, laughing their heads off. So Rosie and I took cover behind some chairs, hoping to not get more mixed up in the crossfire. Not like it really mattered, as by that point we were both as white as ghosts. As we sat down, the good half-inch layer of flour on the floor plumed up around us in a thick cloud of dust.
Oh God, Bilbo is going to kill us.
And just as I thought that, another Baggins stepped into the doorway – Frodo, with Sam in tow. Utter disbelief was plastered on their faces. Not that I could blame them, as the kitchen has probably never been in such a state of disarray.
"What is going on here?" Frodo asked. He said it loudly enough, and angrily enough, for the two of them to immediately still. They at least had the decency to look sheepish. Although it seemed they didn't really know how to answer him. After all, what could they possibly say?
"I guess we got a little carried away," Lauren said softly, looking everywhere but at Frodo.
"A little?" Frodo echoed, incredulous. The flour dust permeated the air, choking him, making him cough a bit as if to prove his point.
Sam glanced around Frodo and set his eyes on Rosie and me behind our chairs. "Oh Miss Rosie, not you too," he said, his tone thick with disappointment, as if he couldn't believe she had a hand in it – as if he couldn't believe that she allowed the two foreigners to corrupt her. He's still not our biggest fan, it seems.
"We had nothing to do with it," I said in our defense, getting to my feet and banging my hands on my skirt. Another cloud of dust rose up around me. The amount of flour on us was outrageous.
"It was just Lauren and me," Lily affirmed, waving a hand. "They tried to stop us, we were just too caught up." Troublemaker she might be, but at least she's honest about it. Have to love Lily for that.
Rosie and I made our way across the kitchen, hoping that it was still raining as hard as it was earlier so we could get rinsed off in the rain. As we passed all I could see was Frodo, his face rigid as he gave the two home wreckers a long, hard stare.
Luckily, the rain was still going strong as we stepped outside. The flour didn't wash off easily, but the fat raindrops helped – it slipped off us, flowing toward the cobblestones in Bad End's walkway. I tilted my head back, enjoying the way the water fell on my face and through my hair, even if it was cold. "Well, so much for dinner," I commented.
From a few feet away Rosie chuckled. "They do get excited easily, don't they?"
"It certainly makes things interesting around Bag End," I heard Frodo reply, his voice coming from behind me. I turned to see him standing in the open doorway, slouching comfortably against the doorframe with his hands shoved in his trouser pockets. Sam was taking a seat beside him, stretching out his legs so his floured feet were on the front steps, getting rinsed off by the rain.
"I'm really sorry about that," I said to Frodo.
He gave a small shrug. "It's not your fault."
Sam threw Frodo a pointed look. "You're bein' awfully calm 'bout all this. Had that been my sisters in our kitchen, my Gaffer would'a let them have it."
"No sense in getting too upset about it. Nothing was damaged and they're cleaning up, so in the end there's no harm done," Frodo explained.
"Still…" Sam implored, ever the respectful hobbit, feeling as if he couldn't just let the matter drop. "Perhaps your sister has been spending too much time with Brandybucks and Tooks," he suggested, switching his attention over to me.
I let out a giggle at that idea. "I don't think that's it," I said gently, in a way that I hoped conveyed my appreciation at his concern. "She's always been hyper like this. If anything she may even be a bad influence on them sometimes." My thoughts drifted back to the day before, when I'd run into Lauren, Merry, and Pippin playing some sort of rock-throwing game in a snowy field while I was out jogging. I'd heard Pippin curse 'dammit' when he missed his mark on a throw – a curse word that he had picked up from Lauren, no doubt. Our influence on the hobbits around us, like in that instance, worries me a little.
Sam's expression was set with a serious yet disappointed look, as if he had been expecting more out of us and we'd failed him. I knew a lot of it was that he disapproved of the ruckus we'd just caused the Bagginses. I looked Sam dead in the eye as I added, "Don't worry, I'll talk to her about it."
Some things will never be the same. There's really not much we can do about it. And sometimes it's hard to wrap my mind around it all. Aside from Lauren's and our friends' escapades, life is just so quiet these days.
A "quiet night" used to involve quite a bit of noise, actually. Radios, stereos, televisions… Even when I read or studied, I always used to put on a CD for background noise. It helped me focus, you see. More often than not, I wouldn't even be listening to what was on — tuning it out was just part of the process. Probably a result of gymnastics, to be honest. Gymnastics meets were ridiculously loud affairs; you never knew when the floor music would come blaring on or if the crowd would yell and jeer in the middle of your beam routine. Once you saluted there was no second chances and no excuses. So I guess it's not surprising I learned to tune things out to help me focus.
But here? It's so damn quiet.
It's hard to believe the amount of mundane noise we used to live with: the hum of fluorescent lights; the thrum of heat and air conditioners; our violent, thrashing, jet engine-like dryer that used to drive our mother up a wall (God help you if you needed to dry a pair of sneakers); the buzzing appliances; the traffic…
It's crazy the things you get used to. All that noise was normal. But now? Well, not so normal here, obviously. The quiet can be so stark and deafening.
I used to have this nightmare as a kid: trapped all alone in an empty black room with an unbearable quiet. And I yelled, hollered, and screamed only to find that no matter how much I strained my voice, no sound was produced. That was the scary part of the dream, you see. Not the logical fear that I'd gone deaf or anything like that. No, I feared not being able to make a sound at all — that I'd have no control and be trapped in that room with no way out, unable to even yell for help.
Sometimes when I'm home alone, the quiet reminds me of those old nightmares… and for half a moment I fear that it all had come true and if I tried to say anything, nothing will come of it. Hits too close to home, that. So I've started humming all the time. Everything and nothing, just something to disturb the silence. The Sounds of Silence is a '60s song that's oddly fitting, so I find myself humming that more often than anything else. Lauren never commented on my new pastime; she just started joining in, singing the lyrics under her breath if she happened to know the song.
One afternoon found us in the den, a rare occasion with both of us off from work. Me with my drawing, Lauren trying to teach herself crochet as she hummed The Sounds of Silence yet again, no doubt still blaming me for getting the song stuck in her head. And for the first time in a long time, I found that zen-like concentration; that lovely feeling of tuning out everything else in the world. It was just me and my drawing. This one was of Jill and her mischievous smile, an image I don't want to forget anytime soon.
It's been four months now… she must be so worried about us. I hope she's taking care of herself. Is she still doing gymnastics? Has she started applying for colleges?
And then, just as quickly, my focus snapped and I became aware of the room once more. God only knows how much time had passed, with me lost in my own head. Lauren was still humming, but slowly now as Frodo was seated beside her with a string instrument — a lute, I think — deft fingers trying to mimic the song to the best of his ability.
They were a vision, the pair of them. Side by side, comfortably close as if they were old friends. Lauren with her failing mess of a crochet scarf in her lap, Frodo leaning toward her with the lute, eyes closed and brow furrowed as he strained his ears on her humming, trying to find the correct notes by ear. He was a bit off, wrong notes or wrong key, something I wouldn't know the first thing about. But he'll get it with time, I'm sure of that.
Aside from Jingle Bells, this is the first time she's really tried teaching him a song — teaching him well enough to play it, anyway. It wouldn't surprise me if this was her way of apologizing to him for the Flour Fiasco the other day. I set the drawing of Jill aside for the moment, grabbing a new piece of parchment from my stash and quickly set to work sketching their outlines before the moment passed.
And once again, perhaps for the thousandth time since we arrived here in Middle Earth, I wished I had a camera.