Exile From the Shire

[Bess the Bard]

Disclaimer—These characters don’t belong to me, I just get to take them out and play with them on rainy days. Original fictional characters and any mistakes are mine.

Note—Story begins in August, 3018 (Third Age)

Prologue

The sun was just peeking over the eastern hills. The late August morning was already warm and hinted at the steamy heat that would hang over the Shire later in the day. A sturdy hobbit figure strode confidently through the field, the leathery leaves of pipe weed slapping at his bare feet. The soil was wet and dark from last night’s rain. Evenly spaced rows of the golden crop stretched as far as the eye could see across the gently rolling hills of the Southfarthing. The summer had been one of the most bountiful in memory. It would soon be harvest time and thousands of leaves would be laid up in the drying sheds to cure.

Domfast Stooptoe continued walking to where the field was bordered by a lively stream and turned to hike north along the bank. Soon he came to another field, covered in the detritus of harvested crops several seasons old. He crouched down and took up a handful of the earth. It was wet from rain but not as dark or rich as that in the fields nearby. He crumpled it through his fingers, sniffed it briefly and let it fall back to earth. This field would need another season to recover the nutrients leeched from the soil by the thirsty pipe weed.

He stood up, brushing the soil off his knee breeches. The clothing was exceptionally fine for a farmer walking his fields. A dark blue velvet coat with silver buttons, gray embroidered waistcoat and a fine lawn shirt with lace ruffles at the cuffs topped his well-cut velvet breeches. To his embarrassment, his mother said the deep blue set off his dark chestnut curls quite nicely.

Dom brushed a bit harder, hoping to hide any sign he had failed to resist the siren’s call of looking over his fields this morning, as he had every day since his father had given over this land to be his own. His mother would have his hide. He’d best stop at the well and make sure his feet were clean and brushed by the time he ventured through the round door of the ample but inviting Stooptoe kitchen.

He started back across the fields. The sun was now completely up and time ran on. He would not normally have been too worried about his mother’s opinion of his appearance but he had to allow that this morning she had a right to be vigilant. After all, he had a wedding to go to.

[Tar-Ancalimë]

hmm... a wedding... and he is digging in the dirt?? :o heehee lol

his wedding maybe??? :grin:

but...exile from the shire... that does not sound good for the main character, now does it? ;)

[Bess the Bard]

Well, this story is a little different for me. I'd really like to know what people think. Good, bad or indifferent. Plus any suggestions you have for improvement. Thanks to those who read and review my stories so faithfully, especially Tar and Pil.

****

The Wedding Breakfast
Chapter 1

Afterwards, everyone said Periwinkle Took was the prettiest, most charming bride of her generation. There was no doubt that Periwinkle’s dark curls, creamy skin and shining gray eyes made an enchanting picture as she stood under the bridal arch in the garden of Great Smials with her groom, Halmeth Stooptoe. The weather was hot by mid-morning but the sky was blue and cloudless; a wonderful day for a Shire wedding.

Envious hobbit maids noted every detail of the wedding dress made of materials imported all the way from mysterious lands beyond Bree. The gown was a pale blue satin with silver lace at the bodice and along the flounced hem. The stiffened underskirt was of white satin embroidered with silver thread.

Standing proudly next to his new bride, the broad-shouldered groom cut a fine figure in a dark blue velvet coat and knee breeches with a silver waistcoat. His twin brother, Domfast, stood up with him during the ceremony and the unmarried lasses unanimously agreed he looked just as handsome as the groom did.

Of course, the bountiful table set for the wedding breakfast and the free-flowing ale, beer and rare wines tended to leave the guests with a nice mellow glow for the duration of the affair.

The bride’s family in the Shire traditionally provided the wedding meal after the ceremony. In recent years, a wedding breakfast had become fashionable. The term “breakfast” was quite flexible, however, and could last well into the afternoon by the time the festivities commenced. Indeed, at events the size of this Took wedding, the meal was essentially an unending feast, continually replenished from the well-stocked larders of Great Smials.

Wedding guests partook of pigeon-pie, ham, and goose; a round of cold boiled beef; and endless loaves of soft white bread served on wooden trenchers with drippings of honey and sweet butter. Stout servers puffed up from the kitchens with large platters of hot food; kidneys, steaks with succulent broiled mushrooms, poached eggs, rashers of bacon, sausages, boiled potatoes with onions, buttered toast and muffins, and tea. Although officially a breakfast, there was also a wide selection of sweets, pies and tarts.

Hobbit matrons in attendance agreed the gardens were especially lovely for the occasion. The Took gardeners had spent days feverishly devising a wedding garden and bridal arch for the new couple. Plants and flowers hobbits associated with good fortune adorned the structure: ivy, representing fidelity, was studded with forget-me-nots and Queen’s Lace, then entwined with golden fairy lanterns. There were carefully designed beds of white trillium, for purity; pansies, for merriment; honeysuckle, for honesty; hyacinths, for constancy; and buttercups for prosperity. The bride carried azaleas to symbolize passion. The guests were provided with grains of barley to toss at the couple to ensure numerous, healthy progeny.

“Yes”, mused Petronilla Took to herself as she strolled regally through the gardens. “I have given the child a proper send-off.” She stopped occasionally to graciously accept the congratulations and good wishes of friends and family.

Raucous laughter echoed across the garden. She knew that sound. She turned to see her husband Berengar slap the back of a friend companionably. Berengar laughed uproariously when the hapless friend choked and spewed his cider all over the other drinkers. Petronilla shook her head with affectionate exasperation. As usual, Berengar was having a marvelous time with his friends and cousins, helped along by the ale they quaffed down with merry abandon.

To look at him, you would think this wedding had been paid for with Berengar’s own funds and taken place in his own spacious gardens rather than those of his cousin Paladin Took, the current Thane. The genteelly decaying cottage of Berengar and Petronilla, a mile from Tuckburrow, could never have accommodated this grand a gathering, nor their purse its cost.

“Thank goodness for Took family loyalty and generosity,” Petronilla thought, “for Berengar has the name but has never possessed the Took ability to put two silver pennies together and get eight!”

But Petronilla depended on this wedding to change all that. Periwinkle had the good fortune to catch the eye of the son of one of the most prosperous farmers in the Shire. Petronilla Took noticed the attraction early on and had done her research discreetly and well.

Ivo Stooptoe had taken the knowledge gained in his youth tending the fields of the Hornblower clan and started growing pipe weed on his own farm. After many years of hard work, Longbottom Leaf was set fair to rival the most famous pipeweed, Old Toby. Although well into his middle years, he had managed to marry Dionesia Hornblower, only child and heir to that noble pipe weed fortune. This simply increased Ivo’s reputation for cleverness.

Ivo and Dionesia proceeded to surprise and delight the Southfarthing when they promptly produced twin boys, Domfast and Halmeth, or Dom and Hal, as they were universally known. Although large families were not unusual among hobbits, twins were rare and considered good fortune for the lucky parents.

Petronilla’s inquiries had come to the attention of Dionesia. That Petronilla had not inquired further than the well-known prosperity and ambition of the Stooptoe family did not surprise Dionesia. Petronilla tended to measure a man by the cut of his clothes and the weight of his purse, if he was not blessed with an “acceptable” lineage.

Dionesia knew Petronilla obtained enough information about Ivo’s worth to satisfy her the marriage was desirable. But she thought Petronilla missed the most important details about life at the Stooptoe farm.

All the local families knew that to ring the front door bell of Stooptoe Hollow would result in quite a long wait for a response. Friends were expected to come round to the kitchen door where Dionesia was almost always to be found cooking or working in her nearby still room.

Dionesia had only one maid-of-all-work to help her, Goldcorn Puddlefoot. Between them the women did all the cooking for the farm laborers, although an extra maid might be hired to help during the harvest when the number of workers could double. Despite her well-to-do background, Dionesia never put on any airs. She was frugal with a penny but generous at table, two of the many reasons Ivo keenly appreciated her.

The new bride would find her good-mother kind, supportive and loving. But the new Took in-laws were not going to find Dionesia Stooptoe an easy touch.

[Bess the Bard]

Comfortably unaware of the mettle of her new relative, Petronilla waved at Dionesia and moved gracefully through the throng of well-wishers to where the mother of the groom stood with her other son, Domfast.

Musicians played a popular tune and hobbits of all ages whirled merrily around a cleared space under some trees. Petronilla proudly noted her daughter and son-in-law danced with outstanding grace and energy. When she came to rest beside to him and his mother, she saw Domfast watching the newlyweds. He looked rather somber considering this was his brother’s wedding.

“Now, Dom,” she said tapping his arm playfully. “You need to get right out there with the other young people and dance. I am sure there is a hobbit maid somewhere here just waiting for you to sweep her off her feet.”

Dionesia smiled and said wryly, “Yes, I believe that is Amaryllis Bogbean over there trying to catch your eye. I think she would like to dance. Either that, or she is suffering from an unfortunate twitch.” Dom rolled his own eyes at his mother for Amaryllis loved nothing more than the sound of her own voice. But Stooptoes never shirked their duty.

Dionesia’s eyes twinkled as she gave him a small push in the direction of Mistress Bogbean. “At least Amaryllis can dance. Betony Broadleaf is on her way over and that girl has been responsible for more sore feet on the dance floor than I can remember. So be off with you, there’s a good lad.”

Wisely picking the lesser of two evils, Dom led Amaryllis out for an energetic reel that left the dancers little time or breath for talking. She was a good dancer and did not have the opportunity to chatter. So Dom was able to say with complete honesty that he had a fine time by the end of two sets when he delivered Amaryllis back to her family. Because she could properly expect him to offer to get her some punch and spend time in conversation with her afterward, Dom cast about for a plausible excuse to make his escape.

His attention was caught and held by figures near the laden tables. He had his alibi. “Pardon me, Amaryllis, but I see my father with some family friends and he is signaling for me to come over.” Moving adroitly as hobbits can, Dom eluded Amaryllis’s grasp and quickly maneuvered around the dancers and over to the diners.

He really had seen his father sitting at a table with some other guests, but Ivo by no means required his son’s presence and was surprised when Dom popped up at his side, slightly out of breath.

“Where did you rabbit over from, boy?” said his father in his rough country accent.

“I just saw you sitting with the Gamgees, Da and wanted to come say hello.” Dom nodded to Gaffer Gamgee and his youngest son, Samwise. “Greetings, Master Gamgee, Sam.” Dom bowed politely. “Thank you for coming to Hal’s wedding.”

Hamfast Gamgee took his clay pipe out of his mouth and cackled, “Couldn’t go missin’ the taming of one of the wildest bucks in the Shire, could we, Sam?”

Sam grinned at Dom and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively but refrained from further comment. Dom gave an inward sigh of relief. Sam knew some stories about the Stooptoe twins that Dom would rather not come to his father’s ears.

Still chuckling at his own wit, Master Gamgee tapped his pipe against the tough sole of his foot, knocking the spent leaf out of the bowl. He poured some fragrant pipe-weed out of a well-used pouch and packed it loosely into the small pipe. Ivo leaned over and offered a light from a candle flickering on the table. Hamfast drew on the pipe to get it smoldering and sighed contentedly.

He then lowered his voice and said, “Though, have to say, wouldn’t have come all the way to this heathenish Tookland to see anyone get hitched, if’n it wasn’t one of Ivo’s lads.”

Ivo smiled around his own pipe and said, “Tooks ain’t so bad Hamfast, if you don’t take ‘em too seriously and don’t lend your Took in-laws money.” He gestured to where the bride and groom were talking to the Thain and the bride’s parents. “But truth to tell, Hal is mighty taken with little Peri and she’s a sweet lass, with some strength in her. She’ll do.” From Ivo there was no higher praise.

Hamfast grunted a grudging assent to Ivo’s analysis of his in-laws and his son’s new wife. “Aye, well. That’s as may be. You know your own business best.” Then, he gazed speculatively at the tables of food nearby. “But I see they’re about to clear away that kidney pie before I’ve had my fill. Join me in rescuin’ the remnants, Ivo?”

Ivo drained the rest of his tankard. “Don’t mind if I do, Hamfast,” he said, rising from the table. “I still need to fill up the corners a bit.

Dom and Sam watched in amused affection as their fathers moved off together. The older hobbits were now deep in conversation regarding the relative merits of Old Toby versus Longbottom Leaf, the latter being the product of Ivo’s fields. The two had been friends since long before their children were born and shared a mutual passion for all things growing in the soil.

But Ivo and Hamfast were alike in one other respect. Their word, once given, was never to be broken and their loyalty to friends never wavered. This trait was passed on in full measure to their sons, as would one day become apparent to many, far beyond the Shire.

[Tar-Ancalimë]

well it is entertaining and i like it so far... but i think i like your other one better... whats it called... Gilrond's Children or sth :blush:

[Bess the Bard]

Tar, the stories are very different, I know. But, this one won't leave me alone, so maybe I just need to get it out of my system, like the flu or something. :)

*************
Now that the field was clear, so to speak, Dom moved to sit directly across from Sam. He poured them each a tankard of ale from a clay pitcher sitting on the table, sat back and sipped appreciatively. “The Took’s alewife has a rare talent and no mistake.” He drained the cup and set it down.

“Well, Sam, my lad”, he said, lapsing into the more informal speech he used when not around his parents. “What news from down Hobbiton way? Is it true that your Mr. Frodo is removing over to Buckland and you are coming to do for him?”

Sam fidgeted and shuffled his feet, as if uncomfortable. “Aye, tis true. Mr. Frodo has bought himself a cottage called Crickhollow, beyond Brandy Hall.” Sam buried his nose in his cup. “I’m to go with him come September.”

“I know the place. A snug property, to be sure.” Dom said agreeably. “I’m sure he will find it suits him to be back where he grew up. Though why anyone would give up Bag End, especially to those useless Sackville-Baggins cousins of his, I can’t imagine.” Dom waited, but Sam did not volunteer to clarify his employer’s motives.

Dom spotted the dignified, dark-haired hobbit smiling and drinking sedately with his rowdier Brandybuck cousins. Frodo watched his younger relatives’ merrymaking with a wistful smile on his face, savoring each moment of this family gathering as if it would be his last for a long, long time. That was odd, Dom thought, since Frodo would shortly move back to Buckland.

Dom mentally shrugged. Frodo Baggins had always been a bit of a mystery to him, rambling alone over the countryside, meeting with Elves passing through the Shire. No wonder people thought he was as strange as his Uncle Bilbo. Still, Frodo had been nothing but kind to Dom and Hal when they visited the Gamgees. And Sam was fiercely devoted to his employer.

“I was grateful Mr. Frodo brought you and your dad with him to the wedding.” Dom said aloud. “I was going to come get you myself before I knew the Tooks included Frodo in their guest list.”

Sam allowed himself a small smile. “Aye, well the Gaffer wasn’t too sure it were proper for Gamgees and Bagginses to be coming to the same social gathering, but Mr. Frodo convinced him it was all right this one time.” Sam lapsed into a studied silence again

A sigh escaped Dom. His friend was definitely troubled. He understood the feeling, being burdened with his own cares on what should be a joyous day. “ It seems long since we took our ease at the Green Dragon and you stood Hal and I to a round or three.”

Then Dom’s brown eyes twinkled for the first time that day. “I think I recall Hal entertaining the worthies of Bywater with a colorful ditty--now how did it go?”

There once was a Hobbit named Bass,
In love with a beautiful lass.
They met one day in the usual way,
But he was drunk and fell off his---a…”

Sam clapped his hand across Dom’s mouth before he could complete the last line. “Hush now! Ye can’t be sayin’ such things in the Thane’s garden, nor at Hal’s own wedding, neither.” But Sam was laughing and Dom was glad to see his friend’s face lightened from its cares for a time.

Perhaps Sam was afraid he would be lonely in the new place, Dom thought. “Once you get Mr. Frodo settled in, I’ll come up and show you the best tavern in Buckland, the Crown and Duck,” Dom offered. “It might not be the Green Dragon, but the beer is good and the mushroom soup is second to none.”

Surprisingly, this brought the cloud back to Sam’s expression. “It will take some time to get things ready for Mr. Frodo, and afterwards, things will likely be busy for a good while,” he said discouragingly.

Dom had nothing to say to that. Each drinker again seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts while steadily emptying his cup. Sam noticed Dom refilled his twice more in the silence. Sam remembered how subdued Dom had been since the ceremony that morning. More somber than would be called for by the importance of the occasion, he realized now.

“Yer a bit a down at the mouth for being at Hal’s wedding, Dom,” Sam said quietly. “What’s bothering you?”

Dom shook his head in denial of the charge, but as the new bride’s laughter rang out across the fragrant gardens, Dom’s eyes strayed toward her. Sam acknowledged the pretty new wife but was startled at the raw emotion he saw in Dom’s brown eyes. “Oho, so that’s how the ground lies, is it?” Sam thought.

Aloud, Sam said, “Dom, I’ve known you and Hal since we were lads.” Every summer, Ivo had brought the twins to stay with the Gamgees while he made the rounds of the East and North Farthings getting orders for his pipe weed.

“We boys ranged over every dell, field and wood between Hobbiton and Bywater, like it was our own personal property. There was no adventure we didn’t share,” Sam insisted. “Don’t you think I can tell if you are troubled?”

Dom poured himself another ale and drained it quickly before answering. No matter how gentle Sam’s probing, it struck a tender spot. Dom’s temper flared, “Well, if by troubles, you mean that strangers are straying across the Bounds of the Southfarthing setting fire to crops and stealing stock.”

“Or that the Sackville-Bagginses are buying up all the leaf plantations they can get their hands on and cutting the rest of the farmers out of a profitable business,” Dom snarled. “Why, then I suppose I am troubled, Sam!”

Sam jerked back as if struck. Dom shook his head wearily. “Sorry, Sam. I find I’m not fit company even for myself. But, as everyone keeps telling me, it is Hal’s wedding day.” He scraped back his chair from the table. “Come along, then, if you can still stand me. Let’s go wish the couple joy in their new life.”

Without looking to see if his friend was coming, Dom walked with careful dignity toward Hal and his bride.

[Tar-Ancalimë]

hmm well i didnt say i didnt like it! in fact i do :p so there lol j/k

[Bess the Bard]

Thanks. I understood what you meant. :) I'm serious about the flu, analogy though--my other story flows out like water--very smooth. This one won't leave me alone but getting it down in words leaves me kind of wrung out. I'm glad you like both.

[Lady Melody]

Well, I'm patiently pacing around my room for more...

[Bess the Bard]

Chibi Melody, you've probably worn the carpet out by now, but here is another little bit. Hope you like it.

****

You May Kiss the Bride
Chapter Two

Only those who knew Dom well would guess he was slightly the worse for drink. His step was a bit too careful, and he carried his head stiffly as if he could keep the world from spinning by sheer will. Sam followed close behind, wondering if there would be less scandal if Dom passed out before or after he reached his brother.

Hal and Periwinkle stood in the shade next to a small brook that had been diverted into the garden and artfully channeled over smooth carefully placed stones. Peri (she’d decided she liked Ivo’s shortening of her name, mostly because her mother hated it) gratefully accepted a cool glass of cider from her husband, discreetly dabbing at her forehead with a handkerchief. Hal turned and saw Dom’s slightly weaving approach. Hal’s narrow-eyed appraisal of his twin brightened into a genuine smile of welcome for Sam.

“Sam, I’m glad you could come.” Hal shook Sam’s hand warmly. “It’s been a long time.” His brown eyes twinkled with amusement. “The Gaffer has already been by. He told Peri she’s far too good for me and offered himself as a replacement if I don’t do right by her.”

Sam laughed, looking a little nervously at Dom, who stood morosely staring at the sparkling stream. “That sounds like the Gaffer. Not but what I think he’s right. I’m sure she is too good for you.” Sam smiled at Peri.

Hal, a bit irritated that Sam had repeated the teasing of his father, said with faint scorn. “Why, I’ve forgotten my manners. My deepest regrets, Master Samwise. Let me introduce you.” Hal executed a mockingly elaborate bow of apology. “My dear, this is Master Samwise Gamgee, Gardener Extraordinaire, of Bag Shot Row, Hobbiton, Eastfarthing. Sam, this is my wife, Periwinkle Took, the new Mistress Stooptoe.”

Sam’s ears were red to the tips. Hal had turned a comfortable moment between friends into an awkward interlude. To Sam it pointed up the gulf between a simple gardener and a member of the local gentry like Periwinkle Took. Hal and Dom easily moved between the two worlds in a way Sam Gamgee never would.

“Pleased to meet you, Missus” Sam mumbled, eyes downcast.

Periwinkle didn’t understand quite what Hal had done, but she knew Sam was uncomfortable. “Hal has spoken of you many times, Sam,” she said kindly. “And all in a good way.” She threw a stern look of warning at her husband that he was already beginning to recognize. Hal ducked his chin mutinously. Just like a little boy, Peri thought with exasperation.

“He says you are moving to Buckland soon.” Peri took Sam’s hand in hers. “I hope you will find the time to come visit us at Stooptoe Hollow whenever you can. Thank you for coming to share this joyful time with me and Hal.” She leaned over and, to Sam’s complete astonishment, planted a quick kiss on his cheek. His entire face went scarlet. Hal laughed, good mood restored.

Dom spoke up at last. “Well, if you are going to give out kisses to old friends, Mistress Stooptoe, how about to very close relatives?”

He stepped forward, bowed, and asked formally, “May I have the honor of kissing the bride?”

Periwinkle, still laughing merrily over Sam’s sweet reaction, curtsied gracefully to her brother-in-law. “Of course, dear sir.” Full of innocent joy, she kissed Dom on the lips.

Dom, his emotions in turmoil from the day and the drink, gripped Peri tightly to him. He kissed her fully and passionately for several long moments. Dom was suspended in a timeless place; the kiss was everything he’d imagined it could be.

A tense silence fell on the watchers. Hal’s face darkened with anger. Sam was about to tear Dom bodily away from the new bride, scandal or no. But diversion came from a completely unexpected, and yet (to those who knew him), totally predictable source—Peregrine Took.

“If my prettiest cousin is giving out kisses,” Pippin chirped, bounding over to the embracing couple. “Then I’m next in line.” He poked Dom sharply in the back with cheerful unconcern. “You’ve had your turn, Dom. Come on, time’s up.”

Dom released Peri slowly, coming belatedly back to reality—and regret. The stiff apology that hovered on his lips would have ruined the salvation Pippin unwittingly offered, but Peri only looked curiously at Dom for a long moment, before turning to her cousin.

Periwinkle fixed him with a disconcerting look. “Come here, Peregrine Took.” Pippin, a little unsure now, approached her warily. Peri took Pippin’s face in her hands. She smoothed his soft curls back from his face and caressed the points of his ears in a way that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Peri wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. Pippin swallowed audibly. His cousin seemed very different all of a sudden, even dangerous. Pippin’s eyes were wide and fixed on Peri’s mouth. His breath came in quick bursts. Peri brought her lips close to his, almost touching.

Then she said loudly, “No, I simply cannot kiss a man when I can still remember changing his diapers.”

Meriadoc Brandybuck, hiccuping with laughter, caught his young cousin as he stumbled back from Periwinkle in dismay. Merry cuffed Pippin fondly on the head and called out. “If the nursery brigade won’t do, I volunteer for duty, Mistress Stooptoe.”

“I think I shall save my kisses, Cousin Merry, for one who is worthy of them.” Periwinkle took her husband’s hand in hers and smiled at him reassuringly. She announced clearly. “And I choose Halmeth Stooptoe, now and forever!”

Hal swept Peri up in his arms and kissed her passionately and long. Cheers went up from nearby wedding guests who began a new round of toasts to the happy couple.

[Pil]

I've been angry with myself for not having the time to read this...but i've just pasted it into towrd...i'll read it tonight and post reactions amoro! :cuddles: pour bess and tar...the all writing all reading trio we are! :brave: lol

[Tar-Ancalimë]

oooh great story... man i guess dom is in love with peri, eh?

this should get interesting ;)

[Bess the Bard]

Here's the last bit of chapter 2. Have fun!


Dom watched silent and bemused at the exchange between Periwinkle and Pippin, until Sam seized the moment while everyone’s attention was diverted to collar his friend and drag him unceremoniously out the back garden gate.

Dom’s scattered senses did not quite register what was going on until his head was thrust under a pump and spring-cold water cascaded over his face and neck. He gasped for breath and struggled but Samwise had always been the stronger and he held Dom firmly in place.

After an icy eternity, Sam allowed Dom, dripping and sputtering, to break free. Dom was bent over still trying to get his breath when he realized Sam had said something. “What?” he panted.

“I said, are ya sober yet? I won’t hit a man so far in his cups he can’t even stand up.” Sam’s voice was the coldest Dom had ever heard it.

Suddenly anger, humiliation and despair came together and boiled up in Domfast. He lunged toward his friend, trying to land a blow on Sam’s jaw. Unsteady with drink and the icy dousing, Dom was unable to check himself when Sam nimbly stepped aside from the charge. Dom stumbled and fell face down in the mud and muck under the pump.

Sam stood silently for a moment over the fallen hobbit then said, “I’ve only known her a little while and I can tell Periwinkle Took is a lady to the very bone. How could you do that to her? And on her wedding day!” Dom showed no signs of life but Sam could tell he could hear him.

Getting down on his haunches, Sam spoke directly into his friend’s ear. “How could ya do that to Hal?” Dom flinched, absorbing the words like blows.

There was a long silence. Then, very quietly, “I love her.”

“What?” Sam said. “Speak up, lad.”

Dom pushed himself to his hands and knees but his head hung down as if it were too heavy to lift. “I love her, Sam.”

“Well, Glory and Trumpets, of course ya do!” Sam shook his head. “Dom, yer as honest and decent as any hobbit in the Shire. Love is the only thing I know can turn a right thinkin’ hobbit crossways and upside down from his regular self.”

Dom’s head came up slowly. He looked at Sam as if doubtful that the encouraging words Sam spoke could be for him, after the way he’d acted.

Reaching down Sam hooked his hand under Dom’s left arm. “Come on lad, up you go. Get over to this bench here under the tree.” He pulled Dom up and slung the arm across his own shoulders. Together they staggered over to a wooden bench that encircled the trunk of a leafy oak tree standing in the kitchen garden.

Dom sank down and then looked blankly out to the hedge that ran along the backside of Great Smials and at the road beyond. Sam sat beside him, then handed over a handkerchief so Dom could wipe the worst of the mud off his face.

“Did you ever tell her?” Sam asked.

Dom shook his head, flinging little droplets of muddy water from his curls. “No. There was never a right time.” He sighed. “I first met her here, at Great Smials, last year. I finally convinced the Thain to start stocking Longbottom Leaf here. Even Da never accomplished that. And as the Thain goes, so go most of the taverns and inns in Tookland. I was feeling like I could hang the moon.”

Dom smiled. “She was here with her dragon of a mother. Petronilla was in the parlor, going on about something or someone not giving the Tooks proper respect. Periwinkle caught my eye. I could tell she loved her mother but thought she was being absurd and she invited me in on the joke just like I was family.”

Dom looked at Sam. “She’s like that, you know. She has a heart as big as the Shire and everyone she meets is worthy of attention, kindness and respect.”

Sam nodded, remembering the warmth of Peri’s smile. “I could tell.”

“You were right, Sam.” Dom said earnestly. “She is a lady. As gracious as one of those Elf ladies Bilbo used to tell you about, but just as open and merry as any lass in the four Farthings.”

Suddenly aware of how he’d gone on and on about Peri, Dom looked sheepishly at Sam. “Aye, well.” He cleared his throat a little, as Sam smothered a grin.

“We talked a bit and I felt right away she could be the one for me. When I was with her, it was like being in sunshine.” To his credit, Sam kept silent when Dom’s expression dared him to say something.

“I left, meaning to come back and get to know her better. But Da wanted my help negotiating with the Sackville-Bagginses because they’d taken a portion of our leaf to sell in a new market they found. The return was not what they’d promised even though they disposed of the entire load and we heard they got all the profit expected and more.” Dom rubbed his neck. His head throbbed like a dwarf’s anvil.

“Da was like to take a pitchfork to Lotho and Hal doesn’t have the persistence to wade through the double-talk Lotho is so fond of. So I stayed home to negotiate and Hal came back to Great Smials to finalize the sale with the Thain.”

“Hal and Peri met and seemed to fall in love right away. Hal kept putting off coming home, then he asked the whole family to come up here. The Thain even extended an invitation himself. It was clear what was in the wind as soon as we arrived. I watched them together and they were happy as larks.”

Dom’s voice echoed bitterly in the garden. “No matter how hard I tried not to, I kept falling a little more in love with her each day. Finally, I had to leave. Da, Hal and Mam came back home to get ready for the wedding. But I never saw Periwinkle again until today. And you know how well that went.”

Sam saw Dom’s face was bone white even in the golden light of the early summer evening. Insects droned in the kitchen garden around them. The hedge muffled sounds of the celebration continuing behind it.

“Have ye eaten anything at all?” Sam asked.

Dom’s eyes had closed and he did not open them, but answered. “Nay, all my meals today have been of the liquid sort.” His head dropped wearily to rest against the tree. “I must go apologize to Hal and Peri. Then I’ll head back to Stooptoe Hollow. Hal can tell Da where I’ve gone.” But Dom did not make any move to leave.

“Stay here, for a little while at least.” Sam said firmly. “I’ll bring you some food. ‘When in doubt, sit down, have a think and a bite to eat,’ my Gaffer always says.” Sam stood and stretched. “On the whole, I’ve found it to be good advice.”

Sam was almost to the garden gate when he heard Dom’s voice faintly. “You may be a fine gardener Sam Gamgee, but your true calling is friendship. Thank you.”

Sam smiled and headed for the tables. Maybe there would still be some kidney pie.

[Pil]

I love this! O and another chapter posted...*pil works hard pasting it into word*...i'll comment on that tomorrow...what i've read it brill bess...but i didn't really need to say that did it?! lol

:thumbs:

[Bess the Bard]

A Garden Variety Plot
Chapter Three


It took two or three tries before Dom could pry his eyes open. They felt glued shut. When he did, he thought wildly for a moment he’d gone blind, for he could see nothing. Then he realized that it was now fully dark in the kitchen garden. His eyes quickly adjusted to see the dim rows of herbs and vegetables, and the tall shadow of the garden hedge. There was a crick in his neck from falling asleep on the bench, leaning against the tree. His mouth tasted truly foul.

He looked down beside him to find a plate of food wrapped in a white cloth sitting on the bench. “Sam, my lad,” he thought gratefully. “You are a prince among hobbits.”

The appetizing aroma of kidney pie and broiled mushrooms reminded him no hobbit should go as long without food as he had today. And next to the plate was a large mug of sweetly tart cider. He drank thirstily and drained the mug to the last drops. He set it down with a contented sigh, wryly noting that Sam had not brought the hard stuff, but the cider reserved for maidens and children.

He picked up the fork and knife he found lying next to the plate wrapped in a cloth napkin and ate hungrily. Even if it wasn’t hot, it tasted delicious. As he ate, memories of his conversation with Sam returned to him. He groaned aloud as his mind obligingly replayed his behavior over the entire afternoon, including that devastating kiss with Periwinkle. Unfortunately, being drunk had not obliterated a single humiliating moment.

The food turned to ashes in his mouth. What he had already consumed threatened to make a second appearance. He put down the plate on the bench beside him and tried to think. How on earth he was ever going face his brother, his parents, or worse, Periwinkle, ever again? Mad plans for disappearing into the Old Forest or conveniently getting himself drowned in the Brandywine River whirled uselessly in his head.

Around him, crickets hummed their lazy nighttime song. There was still a faint murmur of music and voices in the formal garden, but he could also hear the clink and clatter of dishes and tables being collected. The wedding party was ending.

Dom became aware of voices nearby, conversing in intense and purposeful, almost angry, tones. He peered around his tree and could barely make out some figures in a shadowed corner of the kitchen garden behind him. One of the hobbits appeared very familiar. It was Sam!

Dom almost called out, but something in the way that the three figures leaned toward each other and Sam looked over his shoulder to assure they were alone, made it clear this was a private, even secret, conversation. For reasons Dom did not understand himself, except perhaps as a distraction from his own problems, he crept forward silently and listened.

“Are you sure you’ve told us everything, Sam? You have been our informer for far too long to hold back now.” Meriadoc Brandybuck said. Dom was at a loss. What in the name of the Shire was going on?

“Aye, Mr. Merry. I’ve told you everything I heard.” Sam’s voice sounded upset. “I don’t feel right tellin’ you all this but I just can’t let Mr. Frodo go through with it! I’ll do whatever I can to make sure he gets what he deserves.”

“Good, Sam. I knew we could count on you. You dried up on us after Gandalf caught you. But now you’ve come over to our side again,” Merry said.

He appeared not to notice Sam’s muttered, “It wasn’t you that was going to be turned into a spotted toad in a garden full of snakes.”

“It’s all arranged. You, and Pippin here,” Merry gestured to the third figure and Dom was astonished to see the last conspirator was Pippin Took. “Get Frodo to Crickhollow by September 24 and Fatty Bolger and I will be waiting for him. We’ll spring it on Frodo then. We won’t let him get away from us.” Merry sounded determined and businesslike in a way Dom did not associate with the carelessly clever lad-about-town he thought he knew.

Pippin spoke and Dom was absurdly relieved to hear Pippin, at least, sounded normal. “Cheer up, you two. This will be a real adventure. Once we’ve got Frodo where we want him, he’ll have to go along. I can’t wait!”

Sam said fiercely, “You haven’t got a lick of sense, Mr. Pippin, if you don’t take this seriously. ‘A flight from danger into danger.’* That’s what we’re doing, and don’t you forget it. Treat this like a walking holiday to Frogmorton and the Dark Lord will have you before you can say Bullroarer Took!”

Even Pippin seemed subdued by this. Dom had never heard of this Dark Lord but Sam’s very real fear caused a cold hand to clutch at Dom’s heart as well. What was Sam playing at?

Merry put his arm around his cousin. “Come on, Pip,” He said quietly. “Let’s get back to the party. Your sisters will be wondering where you are.”

Merry turned to Sam. “I’ll trust you to get them safely to Crickhollow on time. And, I have your word? You won’t tell Frodo anything about this?” Merry stared hard at Sam, reminding Dom one day this young hobbit would be Master of Buckland.

“You have my word, Mr. Merry.” Sam sounded defeated. “I’ll keep this secret. But only because I think it’s the best way to deal with Mr. Frodo.”

What could Sam mean? Dom could not bring himself to believe it was really what it appeared to be—a conspiracy of some sort against Frodo Baggins by his closest relatives and friends.

[Tar-Ancalimë]

:o so good! i really like that last line of the second last part you posted. it fits so well to sam!

so is Dom going to tangle himself up in the quest for the ring?! coolness!

[Bess the Bard]

Dom quickly slipped back to his bench and assumed a pose of sleep as Merry and Pippin walked by to return to the party. Sam wandered over a few minutes later and stood indecisively with his back toward Dom.

“What’s going on, Sam?” Dom said not bothering to keep his voice down. Whispered plots in the dark were as distasteful to him as he once thought they were to Sam Gamgee.

“Arghhh!” cried Sam in surprise, spinning around. “Dom! You scared me half out of my wits, which I can’t afford to lose.”

“I said, what’s going on Sam,” Dom repeated firmly. “I heard your little conspiracy over there. What are you involved in?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking….” Sam looked at Dom and trailed off.

Sam stood for a long moment and then seemed to give in. He came and sat down next to his friend.

“I can’t believe you would be involved in anything that meant plotting against Frodo Baggins, Sam Gamgee,” said Dom. “I thought you liked him. You can never say enough good things about him. You were even willing to leave your family and your home to move away with him.”

Suddenly the truth dawned in his mind. “This all has something to do with the move to Crickhollow, and Frodo selling Bag End, doesn’t it?”

“I can’t tell you what’s going on, Dom. I’ve given my word and to break it would bring danger to us all.” Sam looked pleadingly at Domfast. “Trust me when I say we don’t mean no harm to anyone, least of all Master Frodo. We’re doing it to help him.”

Dom cocked his head and considered his friend. “All right, Sam”, he said at last. “I can more readily believe you are trying to help Frodo than do him harm, but it all seems pretty shady to me. All this sneaking around with Tooks and Brandybucks.” Dom shook his head. “So, what do you want me to do?”

Sam was startled. “You don’t need to do anything, other than forget you ever heard us tonight.” Dom started to object when Sam, looking at him speculatively said, “On second thought, maybe there is something you could do.”

“You have but to ask, you know that, Sam.” Dom said simply.

Sam hesitated for long time, then took a deep breath and spoke. “I’ll likely be leaving the Shire soon, Dom. There’s a chance, a good chance maybe, that I won’t be back.” Sam held up his hand to stop the words he saw about to explode from his friend’s lips. “I can’t tell you more than that and wouldn’t if I could. It’s safer for you that way.”

“What I want to ask, is if you’ll look after the Gaffer, should anything happen. No, just listen to me.” Sam cut Dom’s denials and demands for explanations off again.

“My older brothers have all moved on to other parts of the Shire and the girls have their own families and worries. The Gaffer will never leave Bag Shot Row and would never ask for help if he needed it. I know I could count on you and Ivo to make sure he has what he needs if,” his voice broke. “If I wasn’t here.”

“Sam, I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into and I am going to find out, eventually.” Dom warned his friend. “But I promise to look after the Gaffer, if you will stop this nonsense about never coming back. Because if you don’t come back, I will,” he desperately cast about for a dire enough threat. “I will just marry Rosie Cotton myself!”

There, thought Dom smugly, if that doesn’t keep him here, nothing will. Sam Gamgee had loved Rosie Cotton since they were children and she and her brothers had joined Sam and the twins paddling around the Bywater Pool.

Sam straightened angrily for a moment, and then subsided as he guessed Dom’s tactics. “And to think I thought you were foolish for not telling Periwinkle how you felt, Dom.” Sam shook his head. “Here I am, loving my Rosie so long I can’t ever remember not loving her and I’ve not brought myself to propose in all these years.”

“Always felt there was something else I had to accomplish first, I guess.” Sam said sadly. “And now I think I know what it is.” He stared off into the east as if he could pierce the veil of the future.

Sam sighed regretfully. “I don’t know if she’ll ever understand why I’m leaving. I may never be able to explain it to her.”

At last Dom began to believe Sam was serious about having to leave the Shire and maybe not coming back. He put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’ll tell her, Sam. If it’s ever necessary, I’ll tell her how much Samwise Gamgee, the finest hobbit I’ve ever known, loved his Rosie.”

By unspoken agreement, the hobbits now fell silent. There was nothing more to be said, no more promises to be made. Sam drew out his pipe and filled it in smiling defiance with Old Toby pipe weed. Dom shook his head mournfully over this betrayal and filled his own with last year’s finest Longbottom Leaf. He struck a light with his flint and steel to a twist of grass pulled up from the ground near his feet, lit Sam’s pipe and then his own.

The two friends puffed away companionably. A friend, a pipe, a quiet Shire evening. For this time, in this place, the gathering storm clouds parted for a while and life was just fine.

[Bess the Bard]

Wet Hobbits and Black Riders
Chapter Four


Stealthy feet made little sound on the wooden floor. Carefully stepping over the floorboard near the door that always creaked loudly, the cloaked figure furtively swept up apples, cheese and bread set out on the table in the kitchen. Listening anxiously for any sound that would signal the household was not still abed, the figure crept to the back door and slipped quietly away into the grey-shadowed dawn.

*****

Dionesia Stooptoe looked around her kitchen and sighed at the evidence that someone had stolen through the room before her. It wasn’t even light out yet but her son Dom had already risen and left the house for his fields, taking food to last the day. This had been his habit every day for nearly four weeks, ever since Halmeth and Periwinkle had returned to the farm from their wedding trip. He left before anyone else got up and stayed away until long after nightfall, stubbornly avoiding nearly everyone in the household.

Dionesia decided it was not going to continue. She wasn’t going to let Dom become an absentee son. She had heard what happened at the wedding, for the kiss shared between Dom and Peri had been much remarked on. But fortunately, it was regarded as a joke, because of Peregrin Took’s antics and Peri’s skillful diversion.

Dionesia had suspected her son harbored feelings for his brother’s wife, but she’d had no idea they were deep enough to drive her usually reserved Dom to such a public display of passion. Well, Dom couldn’t avoid his own mother forever. She wouldn’t allow it. Her mind made up, she pulled a light shawl about her shoulders against the dawn chill and headed for the fields Dom had taken as his own.

*****

She found him standing in the midst of ripening, tan pipe weed, scanning the sky anxiously. It was cloudy and looked as if it might rain. That could spell disaster, for the leaf was nearly ready to harvest and wet leaf would rot in the drying sheds.

The harvesting crews were due to arrive next week. Dionesia prayed the rains held off until then.

She walked up to Dom and put her hand on his arm. He looked down, startled. “What are you doing out here, Mam? Is something wrong back at the house?”

“No.” She pressed her hand against his heart. “There’s something wrong in here.” Dionesia looked into his face that was drawn with care and weariness.

“Mam, don’t…” he whispered, sensing immediately his mother knew his secret. “It hurts too much.” Dom turned aside. Her hand fell away.

“And so it will, if you continue to feel sorry for yourself.” Dionesia said briskly. If one approach won’t work, she thought to herself, try another.

“We are a family. You are part of that family. Unless you are planning to give up your land and move away,” she glanced at him and nodded, satisfied with his expression of utter shock at the idea. “Then you will have to find some way to make peace with your feelings, with Periwinkle, and with your brother.”

Dionesia drew her shawl closer about her shoulders for the wind had picked up and the clouds thickened. “Now, I expect you home for supper at the usual time. You will sit down with the rest of the family, and I want this matter to have been resolved. Do I make myself clear, lad?” She looked sternly at her son, hoping this was the right tone to take. She was terribly afraid that her family would be permanently divided.

Dom looked at the threatening sky for a long time, his fists clenching and unclenching as if a silent battle were being fought inside him. Dionesia became increasingly nervous.

Finally, Dom looked at her ruefully. “How do you always know the right thing to say, Mam? You’re right. I have been feeling sorry for myself.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll talk to Hal and Periwinkle today.”

“Good.” His mother said, careful not to let her relief show, and turned to walk back to the house. “Just one more thing,” Dom called. She stopped. “What does Da think about all this?”

Dionesia paused and said, “Oh, your father wanted to arrange a marriage for you, to focus your attention back where it belonged. We’d settled on Amaryllis Bogbean, but I told him I’d give you one more chance to set things right, first.” She took a folded sheet of paper out of her apron pocket and displayed it to Dom’s horrified gaze. “I assume I won’t have to send Amaryllis this invitation to visit?”

Her point made, she again turned to leave. But as she did, Dionesia thought she heard her son mutter something under his breath. It sounded like, “Ruthless, utterly ruthless. I never had a chance.”

Smiling, Dionesia slipped the piece of paper back into her pocket. She’d known her shopping list would come in handy.

[Tar-Ancalimë]

lol good one.... well what next? ;)

[Bess the Bard]

Though the clouds lingered, the rains still held off, for which Dom was grateful. He had still a great deal to do before the fields were fully ready to harvest. And then his mother had descended on him and delivered her ultimatum. He couldn’t really blame her after he had essentially disappeared these past weeks—but Amaryllis Bogbean! That just wasn’t fair.

He decided to try to find Hal first. He thought it would be easier to talk things out with his twin, although Hal had been quite angry and unwilling to accept his apology at the wedding. Dom suspected only Periwinkle’s presence had prevented Hal from coming to blows with him. Maybe they should have had it out then and there, not let this lie festering between them.

Dom grimly acknowledged he was probably going to have to let Hal get in at least one free punch. More than that, though…. Well, he would just take it one step, or blow, at a time.

He thought Hal might be making some repairs to one of the drying sheds in preparation for the harvest, so he headed in that direction.

As he rounded the low, thatched roof building, however, he bumped into the person he was least prepared to meet. His sister-in-law. He had to grab the basket of eggs she was carrying to save it from tumbling to the ground.

“Oh, Dom!” Peri cried. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“That’s all right. No harm done. See?” Dom restored the basket to her where she clutched it protectively. He knew Peri had taken enthusiastically to life on the farm, still finding fun in a variety of chores she had never experienced before. He noticed she looked fresh and pretty with her dark curls arranged loosely at the back of her neck, dressed in a light green gown with a white kerchief about her throat.

Dom felt his heart twist inside his chest. This innocent, charming beauty would never be his. He simply had to face up to it. He looked into her gray eyes, eyes that questioned his growing silence. But now that the time had come, he could not find the courage to speak.

Peri said hesitantly, “Dom, have I done something to make you angry? You are never around. And Hal won’t talk about it when I ask him if there’s something wrong between you.” She gazed at him anxiously. “I feel like I’m the cause of it somehow, that I’ve brought trouble into the family.”

“I just want everyone to be as happy as I am,” she sighed.

Dom began to feel like the most insensitive clod in the Shire, leading this generous-hearted girl to believe she had done something wrong. He again tried to speak, but his throat closed up and no sound emerged.

Something seemed to occur to Periwinkle for her eyes widened and she said, “You aren’t upset about that kiss at the wedding are you? You apologized for that already. I think you just got a bit carried away. I was a little embarrassed, but flattered, too, and not at all angry. Please tell me you haven’t avoided your entire family for weeks over such a little thing,” she pleaded.

Dom choked over the description of the most perfect kiss of his life as “such a little thing.” “Ah, you certainly put things in perspective, lass,” Dom said ruefully. “It wasn’t the kiss, Peri, it was the very real feelings behind it.”

He looked at her steadily and knew he had to be honest with her. “I loved you from the moment I saw you last year. But I’d never been in love before and I wanted to be sure. Besides, I thought I had all the time in the world.” Peri’s expression was one of stricken sympathy, fading into something Dom dreaded—pity.

He doggedly continued his confession. “I came home, meaning to return and sweep you off your feet, but I was delayed. And Hal was the one who went back to Great Smials to win your heart. I don’t blame him. You are obviously very happy with each other, and I never told you how I felt.”

He took a deep breath. “So there it is. If you can’t face being in same household with me, I’ll build a hole for myself somewhere on my own land and try not to bother you.” He made the offer impulsively, prompted by the real pain he saw in her face over this cursed tangle. But he would do it if she asked.

Dom was terrified to see a tear begin to trickle down her cheek. Now what had he done? Mam would have him married to Amaryllis Bogbean inside a week, at this rate.

“Dom, I am sorry. I never knew,” she cried. “You were so serious and intent with all your plans for the future when we met. I was impressed. I knew you were someone I could trust, that I could have absolute faith in.”

She said this gently because she knew it was not what he wanted to hear. “Then Hal came and he made me laugh and feel very special. I needed that. Living with my parents is…let’s just say that many times I felt like the grown-up because of all of their absurd foolishness.” She smiled. “Hal convinced me they were finally old enough to look after themselves and that I must enjoy being a young maid in love. How could I resist him?”

Dom watched her as she spoke. It was clear she was simply and completely happy. He must make certain that no regret or imagined guilt clouded that joy.

Now she looked at him and said quietly. “When I was little, I made up an imaginary big brother. In my daydreams, he looked out for me, took an interest in my hopes, taught me how to swim or ride a pony. Later, he even gave me advice on how to manage my parents.” She blushed a little. “I suppose that sounds quite strange, but it made perfect sense at the time.”

“I don’t need a protector anymore, but I would like to have you as a brother all the same.” Peri offered her hand to Dom. “Can you not find a way to peace, my dear friend?”

Domfast closed his eyes and desperately wished that calm would replace the passionate longing that raged in his soul. Why had his heart flared to life only to find the object of its desire forbidden to him? He struggled to quell his resentment and the bitterness that loomed in its wake.

She offered him nothing but peace and friendship. So be it.

But first, he would have a token of what he sacrificed.

He took her hand. Slowly, so she could stop him at any point, he brought it, palm up, to his lips. His eyes on hers, he pressed his lips sensually to her palm, then gently nipped the fleshy pad beneath her thumb. Her breath caught and her eyes closed. They remained thus for several moments.

Her fingers one by one fell away from his grasp. So, too, his hope of love returned slipped away from him like a dying spirit.

But in that moment, some dispensation of grace—unearned and unlooked for—was granted to him. He did not realize it yet, but a small measure of peace began to grow in him. A delicate transmutation was begun, from anguished yearning to unshakeable devotion.

He found the strength to smile at her, and mean it. “I promise to be the best big brother you could wish for, imaginary or otherwise.” After a moment, his smile deepened, grew mischievous. His likeness to his twin was never more pronounced.

“In fact, I can offer a whole host of brotherly services—from tickling to pulling hair to putting frogs in your bed. You’ve given me a whole new purpose in life…sister!” With that, he bent down and picked up a handful of mud from a puddle formed under the nearby the water pump.

Peri began to back up warily. “You wouldn’t dare,” she said with certainty.

“Oh, wouldn’t I? I’m sure Hal mentioned some of our past exploits.” Smiling all the while, Dom stalked Peri as she retreated across the farmyard toward the house. “It’s a wonder we survived our teens and tweens.” He formed the mud into a squishy ball and began tossing it messily between his hands.

Peri eyed the large glob, then caught sight of Dom’s intent expression. Clutching the egg basket, she picked up her skirts and ran the exact moment the mudball left Dom’s hands.

Splat! The whitewashed wall of the chicken house now sported a muddy splotch the size of a dinner plate. Peri fled in a flurry of giggles toward the house. Dom’s laughter rang out across the yard, clear and unshadowed

[Tar-Ancalimë]

aww this is sweet... i really like it (tho i still like the other one better ;))

[Bess the Bard]

Tar, I'm flattered you like either one!! This story will start to get darker and more action filled in the section after this. I can only do light Shire comedy for so long before I feel the need to introduce the dark side. :wicked:

*******
After his encounter with Peri, Dom did not feel ready to confront Hal just yet. Dom continued to inspect the fields and decided on where the harvest should begin.

So it was late afternoon by the time Dom neared the drying sheds again, where he still thought Hal might be found. The clouds continued to gather in the sky and the air was humid and heavy with moisture. Dom stopped for a moment, breathing heavily in the heat and wiped his face with his handkerchief. He might not want it to rain before he was ready, but he would welcome the break in temperature a storm would bring.

He finally spotted Hal standing beyond the drying sheds next to the duck pond. Hal was talking with someone who looked vaguely familiar. The figure was not a farmhand. He was too richly dressed for that. The bright green expanse of his waistcoat over a broad belly was visible even this far away.

Lotho Pimple, er, Sackville-Baggins. What a delightful surprise.

Dom saw Lotho and Hal shake hands and finish their conversation as Dom drew near. Lotho noticed Dom and his satisfied smile thinned a bit. Lotho had avoided Dom since he forced Lotho to disgorge the full amount of profits for the Longbottom Leaf sold last year. The antipathy was entirely mutual and Dom did not bother to move out the way when Lotho came toward him.

“You should cultivate a more cooperative attitude, Domfast. Your brother has certainly found collaboration more profitable than confrontation.” Lotho said. Then in a lower voice Hal would not hear, he hissed at Dom. “The day is coming, sooner than you think, when nobodies like you will accept whatever terms I offer and be grateful for the favor.”

Lotho was broad but Dom was taller and he deliberately loomed over the shorter hobbit. He leaned close to Lotho and said in a conversational tone. “Did you know you left your handkerchief the last time you were here? I’ve been using it to train my dogs to follow a scent. You remember my dogs. You didn’t get along too well, did you? Maybe you ought to leave before they get here.” Dom let out a piercing whistle. Barking was heard in the distance.

“Fool! You will pay for every slighting remark, just you wait.” Lotho looked nervously in the direction of the barking.

“You’re the fool if you wait. But, it’s your funeral.” Dom whistled again. “It will be an interesting training exercise for my lads.”

With that, Lotho turned and hurried off to his pony trap. Dom last saw him whipping the poor animal into a gallop as the cart clattered off down the road from Stooptoe Hollow.

Dom turned, chuckling and walked over to Hal by the pond.

“Was that you whistling for the dogs?” Hal asked. “You know Da penned them up today because Old Mistress Grubb is coming to visit Mam and the dogs always make her sneeze.”

“Now that you mention it, I do remember that.” Dom agreed, a glint in his eye. “But never mind. Why were you talking to Lotho and what was he so happy about?”

Hal looked smug. “Lotho and I are going into partnership with each other. We agreed that I would send off the yield on my fields to his new southern markets. The prices he’s getting are remarkable! He’s giving me very generous terms.”

“Dom, with the profit, I can build Peri a new house of our own. I can support her in the way she deserves.” Dom could tell Hal was excited and wanted his brother’s approval of his new scheme. Dom sighed. Hal might know the land, but he never had much luck in the business end of things.

Hal was always looking to prove he would succeed on the next deal. Dom suspected Lotho knew this and had hooked Hal into a bad bargain.

Dom wanted to shake his brother. “You addle-pated fool! Did our brangle with that sidewinder last year teach you nothing?” Dom’s anger swelled as he recalled what dealing with Lotho had cost him. “Oh, no. I forgot. I stayed home to clean up that mess. You ran off to Great Smials and romanced Peri for the entire planting season. How were you supposed to know that Lotho’s word is worthless?”

“Lotho told me that you refused to believe that he took a loss on that deal last year.” Hal grew irritated in his turn. “He said he made up the difference for us out of his own pocket just to satisfy you. He’s also buying farms of his own and wants my advice on how to run them.”

Dom snorted and rolled his eyes at this load of bilge. “Lotho could always talk rings around you, Hal. You have something he wants and he’s using you to get it. I don’t know what he’s after, but don’t you trust him. Get out of this before it’s too late.”

Hal’s bluster suddenly grew cold. He looked at his brother with narrow-eyed suspicion. “I know what this is about. It’s about Peri. I knew you had feelings for her, but I never thought you’d stoop this low, Dom.”

“What are you talking about?” Dom could not stop a guilty flush creeping up his neck. Here was the “discussion” he’d promised to have with Hal but it wasn’t happening under the best conditions. Still, what link could Hal see between his feelings for Peri and his well-founded distrust of Lotho Pimple?

“You can’t have her for yourself so you’ll undermine me with her in any way you can. Like ruining this chance I have to provide for her on my own, without using Da’s money or living in Da’s house.” Hal said fiercely. “Well, I won’t stop the deal with Lotho. And I won’t have you interfering with my wife!”

Without warning, Hal aimed a blow at Dom’s chin. It was like getting whacked in the head with a brick. Little sparks of light exploded in Dom’s vision.

“Well, I knew I had to give him one free punch”, thought Dom, as he fell helplessly back with a great splash into the pond. Ducks, complaining loudly, took flight in protest at the intrusion.

[Bess the Bard]

Dom sank, stunned, almost to the bottom of the shallow pond. He surfaced, covered in lily pads, and wiped streaming water and wet curls out of his eyes. When he focused, he was startled to see Periwinkle had arrived. She evidently was not happy with her husband.

“Hal, how could you?” she wailed. “I sent you to find Dom and make peace with him! Not attack him!” She poked her finger in Hal’s chest to emphasize each word. Hal backed up along the bank with hands outspread protesting his innocence.

Peri paid no attention. “Dom has done nothing wrong. You are brothers, act like it. In fact, you can just join him!” Peri pushed on Hal’s chest with both hands, but her feet became entangled in her skirts and she began to overbalance.

Instinctively, Hal reached out to steady her, enfolding her in his arms. But Peri’s forward momentum could not be overcome and both of them toppled into the water.

Dom tensed, ready to help if they did not surface right away. But in a moment or two, the pair broke water sputtering and coughing. Hal hauled Peri upright and pulled her hair out of her eyes. “Peri, sweetheart, talk to me. Are you alright?” Hal shook Peri a little, but she was caught between choking on swallowed water and laughter. She could only shake her head helplessly.

“Dom, help me.” Hal called anxiously. “I think she’s drowning. Peri, please don’t die. I didn’t mean to hit him. I mean I did mean it, but I’ll be sorry for it if you want me to.”

Dom, well aware Peri’s plight was not life-threatening, couldn’t help but notice Hal’s real anxiety and deep affection for Peri. He steeled his heart against the little lash of pain in that realization and waded over to support his brother. “She’s fine, Hal. She just needs to get her breath back. It would help if you weren’t holding her quite so tight.”

Finally, Peri found her voice. “I’m all right, dear. Just a bit soggy is all. Ugh.” She put a hand to her dripping hair and gave a shiver of distaste. “Now I know what ducks do in ponds besides swim around. I’m getting out of here.”

Hal gave Peri a hand up onto the bank, where she stood wringing out her sopping skirts. Dom carefully averted his gaze, for her dress clung in all the right places. Fortunately the day was hot and there was no chance the hobbits would take a chill.

Hal was about to join her, but she said without looking up from her ablutions. “Don’t you dare come out of there until you make peace with your brother.”

“But, Peri.” Hal began. Dom wondered if Hal knew he sounded about ten years old.

“Don’t ‘but Peri’ me, Halmeth Stooptoe.” Peri straightened and put her hands on her hips. Dom and Hal were alarmed to recognize their mother’s stance and tone in Peri’s attitude. Dionesia was training her daughter-in-law well. “Talk to him.” She gestured to Dom.

“Don’t you think you are getting off easy, either, Domfast. You should have come to Hal long before this.” Peri even copied Dionesia’s foot tapping, which meant patience with any wrongdoer was quickly running out. “Come now, get on with it. Apologize, both of you.”

Dom had sunk into the water up to his neck under Peri’s scrutiny. He breathed out heavily, making bubbles in the water. He knew his was the heavier debt and he really should go first. “Hal, I apologized for what happened at the wedding. That was poorly done. But I can’t help what I feel. Who could keep from loving Peri?” He checked and Hal was listening, at least. Still, it was the future that no doubt interested Hal the most.

Dom accommodated him. “Peri has a yen for a brother. I’ve promised to be one, a good one. But that’s all. I’ll not betray your trust.” He said seriously. “You’re my twin. I’d rather cut off my right arm than sully the bond between us.”

Hal said nothing, searching his brother’s face as if weighing his sincerity. Dom withstood the scrutiny. Finally, Hal stuck out his hand. “Apology accepted. I’m sorry for hitting you. Mostly.”

“Hal!” Peri warned.

Hal laughed. “Alright, brother. We’ll put it behind us. Harvest is going to be busy enough, without this hanging over our heads.”

“Aye, that it is.” Dom agreed and shook Hal’s hand firmly. Hal clapped Dom on the shoulder affectionately. It felt good to be easy with one another again.

Neither of them mentioned Lotho.

The brothers waded to the pond’s edge. They stopped, open-mouthed when their father appeared on the bank.

Ivo saw them in the pond and Peri, soaking wet on the shore. “What are you two young fools doin’ taking a swim in the middle o’ the day? We’ve got too much work to do for ya to be lazing around. It may be hot, but there’s no time for paddlin’ about.”

Ivo looked at Peri, “Lass, ye’d best be headin’ back to the house to change afore ye catch yer death. I don’t blame ya. I know it’s these two rascals that led ye astray.”

“But Da,” the brothers protested. Dom cringed. Now they both sounded ten years old.

“I don’t want to hear anymore. Now get out of there.” Ivo said impatiently. “Come on, out with you,” he said when neither brother moved.

“How about a hand out, Da? The mud’s terrible thick on the bottom and it’s hard to get up there,” Hal said, holding out his hand. “In for a penny, in for a pound,” thought Dom and held out his own hand to his father.

Peri looked as if she would say something, but she simply shook her head and put both hands over her face. Then peeked through her fingers.

“Oh, all right,” said Ivo, coming to the muddy water’s edge. “You must both be getting weak in your old age.” He gave a hand to each of his sons, and, in the end, was only mildly surprised to find himself flying off the bank and landing with a mighty splash in the water.

Hal and Dom collapsed with laughter when their father popped up like a cork, sputtering and shouting curses against ungrateful, underhanded offspring.

Peri came to the bank and announced virtuously, “I am going back to the house. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll wash up in the barn before you come to Dionesia’s table smelling of duck---pond.”

A half-hour later, all three Stooptoe men were trudging back to the house when there was a great crack of thunder. Torrents of rain began to pour down. They stopped and looked at each other, sighed, and kept walking.

[Tar-Ancalimë]

heh dont think ive gone away... dont have time to read this now, but i will soon... because i really do like it, and i think its a great thing that it gets darker...more my kind of thing, know what i mean?

[Pil]

Oh Bess this is lovely! I'm rather partial to the more lighter side of things...unlike Tar i suppose...although a bit of action is not to be missed!

This is hobbits at their finest Bess...hope you continue writing this... :thumbs:

We await the next installment! :)

[Bess the Bard]

This little bit rounds out the chapter, so I am going to go ahead and post it. Tar and Pil, thanks for reading. It's been interesting writing Elven and Hobbit characters simultaneously. Now, poor Dom is in for some trouble....

****
It was well past midnight and the rain and thunder had stopped long ago. But something woke Dom out of a sound sleep. He listened, but heard nothing. A deep sense of wrongness tugged at his mind.

He pulled on his breeches. There was still no sound, but he could nearly taste the dread lying thick on the still air. Prompted to go outside by some sense he could not name, he went out to the front step of the house.

Finally he heard it, hoofbeats. Not the light trotting of a pony, but the distant thundering of large horse. It grew closer. It came across the fields that faced towards Sarn Ford, and the southern bounds of the Shire. Dark clouds obscured a watery moon. Hardly knowing how he dared, Dom ventured further out into the yard.

Dom felt his insides turn to water. Out of the shadows, a monstrous black beast, with red flashing eyes, easily cleared the fence that surrounded the front yard of Stooptoe Hollow. Despite his fear, Dom could not move. The animal, he supposed it must be a horse, though it did not look like any he’d ever seen, came straight for him.

At last he ventured a glance at the nameless horror mounted atop the beast. It was black upon black upon black. Dom could make out no features at all. With a wild cry, he dropped to his knees and the horse leapt over him.

A black flood of terror washed over Dom, trailing a foul stench of death and decay in its wake. This was surely the Enemy Sam spoke of, come to the Shire. Dom despaired as he slid hopelessly beneath the waves of fear into darkness. What chance did Sam, or any hobbit, have against this horror?

Fresh from victory against the Rangers that guarded Sarn Ford, the cry of the Black Rider echoed across the Southfarthing as it headed for Bag End, and the Ringbearer.

[Tar-Ancalimë]

ooooh! i just read it, and i do love it. really. esp now that youve got some evil in it ;)

lol

[Pil]

*pil shivers*

"black upon black upon black" :elfeek:

Ooo....this is gonna be scary... :o

[Bess the Bard]

Now we are up to a point at which I have very little written beyond this. I have a good idea where the story is going but how I'm going to get there is a mystery. Posting may be more sporadic and I will be dependent on you to tell me what works and what doesn't. Thanks for all your support so far.

*******

A gray clad figure on a great white horse splashed through the waters of the Brandywine River at Sarn Ford. The rider noted with dismay there was no sign of the squad of Rangers that usually kept a covert watch at the Ford. Gandalf (for that is who it was), wondered if he was too late. Saruman's treachery had delayed him disastrously. Could the servants of Sauron already be in the Shire?

“Faster, greatheart,” Gandalf urged his mount. “We must reach Frodo before the Nine find him.” Shadowfax’s stride lengthened, great muscles flexing beneath his silky white coat. The road seemed to fall away beneath the stallion’s hooves.

Gandalf exulted in a brief surge of fierce joy at the effortless power of this magnificent horse. In the course of their flight from Rohan, Shadowfax’s noble spirit had captured Gandalf’s heart, their bond already one of deepest kinship.

But Gandalf’s pleasure passed quickly. Frodo also had a claim on the wizard’s heart and now that the Nazgul were abroad, the dear hobbit was in terrible danger.

“Fly, Shadowfax, fly,” cried Gandalf. The thunder of the horse’s passing echoed around them as they fled like ghosts through the darkness that covered the Southfarthing.

[Pil]

This is a nice bit Bess...it's a bit refreshing from shire-talk etc. and it'll make going back to dom and co. even more exciting! :)

It's clever how he's worried that the enemy are there....and we know they are...:thumbs:...i'm liking it! :p

Good luck mate...i'm sure it's going to come to you fine! It's going to be amazing we know that for sure! notworthy

Keep it up girl! :read:

[Tar-Ancalimë]

i really like it too :grin:

yeah, i do like where its going... and never fear, well be here when ever you want to post!

.....just be prepared for a little nagging about it LOL

[Pil]

exactly....i for one cannot wait for the next bit!

c'mon bess...post...you know you want to... :thumbs: lol

[Bess the Bard]

Domfast Stooptoe reined in his pony, Pekka, and slowed him to a walk. Dom had ridden hard for many hours, giving the sturdy pony short breaks when he could. But now Pekka was blowing hard and sweat poured off his dappled flanks. Dom would have to find a place to spend the night.

But his sense of urgency had not abated in the two days since he left Stooptoe Hollow. Two days since he’d woken from a hideous nightmare that still haunted his dreams and assured he did not rest easy even when he took the time to stop and sleep. The horror he’d experienced from that Black Rider propelled him on to Buckland to warn Samwise of what hunted him. Dom was convinced that what he’d encountered in the farmyard of Stooptoe Hollow was connected with whatever it was Sam had gotten mixed up in. Dom cursed every moment of delay, his fear for Sam and his friends growing with each passing moment.

But unless he was prepared to ride Pekka to his death and be afoot, far from his destination, he would have to stop and give the pony a good rest. Dom had headed northeast from Longbottom, cutting across cultivated fields nearing harvest, and was now in the hills near Pincup, not far from Great Smials. Dom briefly considered stopping there and seeing if Peregrin Took were still about, to shake out of him what in the Shire was going on. But satisfying as the image was, Dom regretfully decided he did not have the time.

Dismounting from the tired pony, Dom looked around, casting about for a place to spend night, before the light went altogether. He heard the sound of swiftly running water. Following it to its source, he found a clear stream glinting in the fading sunlight. The water poured over large rocks that towered above Dom’s head, then pooled in a wide depression. Willows trailed autumn brown leaves in the water and crowded the banks for most of the way on both sides of the stream, but there was a small clear area on this side of the pool. A good place to water Pekka and spend the night.

Dom unsaddled the tired pony, wiping him down with a cloth from his pack. He walked Pekka around for a few minutes to cool him down before allowing him to drink. Once the pony drank his fill, Dom hobbled him where he could still get at some grass, then started a small fire.

It was dark by the time he cooked up some mushrooms and sausages in a pan. He finished quickly and washed up. The trailing willows managed to look menacing in the dim shadows but Dom quashed his uneasiness as best he could and rolled himself in his blanket.

Tired as he was, it was long before he slept. In his dreams, he wandered about a gloomy forest calling for Sam. Dom could see him but there was always a shadow between them. Sam looked neither left nor right then walked straight into the darkest part of the forest and disappeared. Dom tried to follow but bent trees with trailing branches grabbed hold of him and dragged him, struggling, into a swift river. Despite his cries, the water’s surface closed over Dom’s head and he knew no more til morning.

Dom woke in the cold before dawn. His fire was long dead and Dom shivered as he packed up his camp. He filled his water bottle and drank thirstily, to wash the taste of night terrors from his mouth. Feeding Pekka the last of the oats he’d brought with him, Dom soon had the pony saddled and ready to go. He mounted and left the stream behind, climbing further into the hills.

Soon he came to the road that ran from Stock to Woodhall. At last! He could make more speed here. If he did not make any more stops, he would cross the Brandywine at the Buckleberry Ferry and be at Crickhollow by late evening.

He just hoped he would be in time.

[Pil]

This is really well written and is so accurate of all the routes and places in relation to eachother...it's great Bess...what can we say?! :thumbs: :p

I look forward to the next post! :)

[Bess the Bard]

Thanks, Pil. I do use maps when I'm writing. Hope it doesn't come across as a travelogue of Middle Earth. More will be posted over (our) Thanksgiving weekend coming up.

[Tar-Ancalimë]

no it doesnt sound like that.......accuracy is an important part of any story, and trust me, i can get really picky when it isnt accurate :grin:

(ps pil why dont you delete one of those posts of yours ;))

[Pil]

No definitely not Bess...it's just the right amount to make us feel confident with the story and its setting...but not too much to be over powering to the actual events! :thumbs:

Have done now Tar...forgive me...i was asleep i sware! lol

[Bess the Bard]

Shadowfax thundered up the ancient Great East Road, each footfall a blow to Gandalf’s hopes to reach Frodo before the Ringwraiths did.

Everywhere he went, those hobbits that dared venture outside their holes reported a Shire night that now held terrible spirits; insubstantial as shadows but who struck fear in the heart as sharp and cold as an iron blade.

To Gandalf it seemed the Nazgul split their numbers, some going east to keep watch upon the Greenway and others riding before him on this very road, searching all the while. Gandalf knew it was the Ringbearer they hunted.

Gandalf had stopped only moments in Hobbiton to discover from Gaffer Gamgee that Sam, Frodo and Pippin had left Bag End less than a week before, striking out across the woods and fields of the Shire for Crickhollow. At least they were avoiding the road.

Gandalf’s hands had clenched in fear and frustration with the Gaffer as the old hobbit rambled on but finally revealed that a Black Rider had inquired after “Baggins” the very night Frodo left.

Why had Frodo delayed so long, Gandalf wondered as he sped toward Crickhollow. Why had he not left in the summer, as Gandalf’s letter, written in Bree, urged him to do?

Gandalf rode on in great fear, soon reaching the outskirts of Buckland. Up ahead on the road, he spied a hobbit kneeling in middle of the lane, examining the front hoof of his pony. The hobbit appeared not to notice the approaching horse and rider and did not move. Gandalf cried out to Shadowfax to halt so they did not ride the hobbit over. Superbly responsive, the horse skidded to a stop with plenty of room to spare.

Gandalf could understand the hobbit being startled but could think of no reason for the utter terror that flashed over the hobbit’s face when he finally looked up to see a large horse bearing down on him.

The hobbit scrambled back beside his pony and then stood, breathing heavily. “By the Shire, I thought it was another Black Rider…my nightmares walking by day….” This last he seemed to mutter to himself, but Gandalf said to him sharply, eyebrows bristling from under his hat. “You have seen a Black Rider? Quickly, tell me where and when!”

Gandalf’s urgency made him brisk but the hobbit hesitated only a moment then answered clearly. “Three nights ago, now. In the Southfarthing near Longbottom. I think it entered the Shire across Sarn Ford. I, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Gandalf thought for a moment, calculating time, distance and whether the Ringwraiths could have reached Frodo by now. It was not encouraging.

He sighed. “I wish that you may never see its like in the Shire again but that may be a forlorn hope in these dangerous times, Domfast Stooptoe. Yes, I recognize you.” Gandalf said impatiently, noticing Dom’s surprise. “How many sets of hobbit twins do you suppose rampaged like trolls through Bag Shot Row every summer, eh? And if I didn’t witness all your crimes myself, I heard about you from Hamfast Gamgee often enough.”

Gandalf sat back up and prepared to ride on. “But I have no time to reminisce now. I must get to Crickhollow without further delay.”

Dom started at the mention of his own destination. “Crickhollow? But that is where I was going when my pony fetched up lame a while ago. I was going to warn Sam about the Black Rider….” Dom stopped in mid-sentence, eyes widening. The wizard leaned down close to Dom, took hold of his coat collar and gave him a vigorous shake. “What did Samwise tell you, that little fool? I really shall turn him into a toad, if I see him again,” he muttered.

Gandalf seemed twice as large as he had been a moment earlier and gave Dom another brief shake. “Speak!”

“Nothing,” Dom protested, swallowing nervously. “I overheard Sam and Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took talking about getting Frodo Baggins to Crickhollow and not letting him leave alone. When I confronted Sam, he wouldn’t say anything but that he might be leaving the Shire and he wanted me to look after the Gaffer in case something happened to him.” Dom looked at Gandalf, his face full of distress. “Sam was that scared, Master Gandalf.” For the wizard was rather unmistakable and Dom had recognized him some time before.

“Scared of something beyond him, but set on facing it anyway. When that—Black Rider—came along I was more frightened than I’ve ever been in my life. I knew it must have to do with what Sam and his friends are mixed up in. So I’m going to Crickhollow, on foot if need be, to help Sam.” Dom finished, and looked up at Gandalf, half nervous, half defiant.

Gandalf leaned back, considering this news swiftly. Peregrine Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck! What a pair to take on such a journey, though it sounded as if Frodo was being given no choice. Still, the makeup of this hobbit walking-party would matter little if the Black Riders reached Crickhollow first and took the Ring. Gandalf made a decision and bent down again.

He gestured to the patient Pekka. “Unsaddle your pony and let him loose. He will find his way home. Get your things and come with me now if you wish to get to Crickhollow in time to help your friend.”

Dom looked doubtfully for a moment at the huge horse standing before him, then ran to unburden his own pony. Giving Pekka a hug about the neck, he whispered that he would be back for him as soon as he could.

In minutes, Dom had slung on his pack and run back to Shadowfax. Gandalf bent down and offered his hand. Dom awkardly hung on as Gandalf swung the hobbit up before him. Dom couldn’t help but notice that the wizard used neither saddle nor bridle on this great beast of a horse, but didn’t feel brave enough to protest how mad wizards chose to charge about the countryside. He just hoped the horse felt kindly and allowed both riders to stay on his back.

[Tar-Ancalimë]

hey, cool! dom is really getting into things now. lol

thanks for updating :grin: i like where this story is going.

[Pil]

It was really gripping to read of gandalf's confusion and panic... :o

Thanks for the update...we await more news of domfast! :thumbs:

[Bess the Bard]

Shadowfax carried the anxious pair the last miles to Buckland. Gandalf said nothing to Domfast and Dom did not pursue a conversation. He was too much in awe of the wizard. He had seen Gandalf only once before, when Dom was a boy, at Bilbo Baggins’ famous party. But he had heard many stories from Sam and knew the legendary Gandalf had quietly visited Frodo Baggins in the years since Bilbo disappeared. It was no wonder Sam needed rescuing, thought Dom, getting mixed up in the affairs of wizards.

They clattered over the Brandywine Bridge and rode up to North Buckland Gate. Dom gaped in astonishment at the sight. One of the gates hung uselessly on its hinges, splintered beyond repair. Hobbits swarmed around like ants in a stirred-up hill, armed with pitchforks, shovels and bows.

Gandalf paused for a moment and shouted for news. The responses were varied and strange. Evil folk had invaded Buckland from the south last night; terrible beasts from the Old Forest had ridden down the gatekeeper and his cousin, and the cousin wasn’t likely to recover; a place called Crickhollow had been ransacked.

Hearing this last, Gandalf did not wait any longer but tightened his hold on Dom and sped down the lane to Crickhollow. Dom gave a small cry of despair when they drew near the small cottage. The front gate was torn off and lay in the mud that had been churned up by the hooves of several large horses. Worse, the front door of the house had been kicked in and lay in pieces.

Without a thought for the powerful wizard who held him, Dom squirmed out of Gandalf’s arms and jumped to the ground. He stumbled when he landed but was up and running in moments. He ran up the front step, and into the house. “Sam, where are you?” Dom called urgently, running from room to room. “Mr. Baggins, are you here? It’s Dom Stooptoe, come to see if you are alright. Sam, answer me. Gandalf is here and wants to see you right quick, my lad!” Perhaps that might draw Sam out if he were hiding somewhere.

Dom fell silent and his steps slowed as he saw furniture was overturned, books and papers were scattered and torn. A curtain fluttered forlornly over a broken window. Dom could see that whatever violence had occurred here last night, there was nobody here now. He turned and walked with heavy heart back to the ruined front door.

He found Gandalf had dismounted and now stood in the front garden. The wizard held something. His grey head bent and his shoulders stooped, Gandalf suddenly looked very old.

“What is it, Gandalf?” Dom asked, peering at what seemed to be some muddied material that the wizard held in his hands.

Gandalf looked up and Dom was frightened to see the wizard’s eyes dark with grief. “This cloak belonged to Frodo. I found it lying amongst the pieces of the broken door. The Black Riders were here before us.” Gandalf handed the material tenderly to Dom and said with great weariness, “All my hopes may now be as ashes. I do not know, but I fear our friends have fallen to a terrible fate. It may be there is no hope left for them, but I must follow swiftly as I can to discover their end, whether good or ill.”

At the wizard’s soft call, Shadowfax appeared. Gandalf mounted the great horse. “Farewell, Domfast Stooptoe. I do not know if we will meet again. Forces of darkness are gathering across Middle Earth and no place is safe, not even the Shire, now. Remember, evil comes in many forms, both fair and foul. It will not always wear the face of a Black Rider.” Gandalf wheeled Shadowfax around and looked hard at Domfast. “Change is coming, likely for the worse. Prepare for it, if you can.”

With that, Gandalf urged Shadowfax to a gallop. The wizard rounded the curve in the lane and was gone. For a long time, Dom stood in front of the abandoned cottage, still holding Frodo’s cloak.

Dom looked east, where the shadows of evening now lengthened. “Sam, what is happening?" He wondered, heartsore and lonely. "I would have gone with you if you’d asked.”

A nightbird called in the distance and the sun sank into the west. Before starting at last on the road to Brandy Hall, Dom said softly to the darkness, “The blessing of the Shire go with you, Samwise, wherever you are.”

[Tar-Ancalimë]

ooh hes staying in the shire? awesome! we'll get to see it slowly turn evil, no? :grin:

...i still dont get the title! lol

[Bess the Bard]

Some notes about this chapter, which was the most difficult one to write so far. Gandalf's part was inspired by his comment at the Council of Elrond where he said that when he got to Crickhollow, he saw Frodo's cloak lying on the ground and "for while, hope left me." It's a small comment but since Gandalf never seemed to give up hope any other time, it made me wonder what he must have felt when he thought Frodo had been taken by the Black Riders.

I initially had another scene in this chapter, from Sam's point of view. In the end, it didn't fit the narrative flow. But Sam's scene took hold of my imagination so much that I wrote it as a free-standing story and I posted it here in the Forum as "The Long Goodbye." So "The Long Goodbye" is essentially the Special Extended Edition of Chapter Five. (Did I really just say that??? :blush: )

Thanks to those who keep reading and especially to Pil and Tar for posting comments. The next part will probably not appear until the end of next week, but should be more action packed.

[Bess the Bard]

Tar, our posts crossed in the ether. :smile:
The title will be justified within the next chapter and it will be literally true. I don't want to give too much away, though.

This story has had a slow start. If I weren't doing this serially, I would probably go back and rewrite from the beginning to this point. I may do that when I get it all done. I have written a revised prologue, which hints at the events set up by the title. If you are ever interested, I can send it to you by PM.

[Pil]

That'd be great Bes...i am really interested to see what happens to dom...look forward to the update! :stomper:

[Bess the Bard]

Sorry about the wait on this one. But I did want to get back to it eventually. So here goes.


The Shire in Shadow
Chapter Six

The mid-morning sun shone blindingly on the pale rocky hills near Scary in the Northfarthing. The heat of mid-July lay over the Shire like a heavy cloak. Rain had been scarce this summer, especially here in the hills, and most of the streams were little more than a trickle. Nothing moved in the heat of day unless it was a dire necessity.

Light flashed across the hills again. Surely it was a mere reflection of the sun on white rock.

Close at hand, the soft call of a mistle thrush trilled into the still, close air. Once, twice came the answering call from beyond the next hill. A small gray-clad figure, unnoticeable until it moved out of the shadow of an overhanging rock, now stood and squinted into the glaring sun.

A last flash of light from the neighboring hill and the figure sighed in relief. It was still safe, then. The figure sat down with his back against the rock wall to wait.

After about twenty minutes, soft footsteps could be heard climbing up the scree-covered hillside. A round-faced hobbit with an even rounder mid-section hove into view, moving with a sure-footed lightness that belied his size. He was dressed in light gray and green clothing, the better to blend into the rocky hillsides and scrubby vegetation. Two other hobbits, rather grubby, but dressed in similar fashion, accompanied him. One of them stopped on the ledge below, remaining alertly on watch.

The original figure now stood, waiting for the others to climb up to him. The round-faced hobbit huffed a little as he gained the top of the hill. “Where have you been? We’ve been waiting for you for two weeks.” Fredegar Bolger mopped his streaming face with a dingy handkerchief. “Supplies are nearly gone.”

“Don’t worry,” responded his visitor. “I’ve got a pony loaded with provisions from the cellars of Great Smials. Tonight there’ll be a dinner plentiful enough even for you, Freddy.”

“The lads will happy to hear that. Why we’re down to just three meals a day. My belt is on its last notch.” Freddy said woefully. He then noticed the suppressed tension of his companion and his expression sharpened with interest. “You have news?”

“Let us get the provisions back to your camp.” Domfast strode a few feet away and came back leading the faithful Pekka. “Then we must talk…and plan. We have a job to do.”

[Pil]

Thanks for updating Bess, i'm glad this is continuing! :hooray:

Domfast is being very secretive....lets hear more about what he has up his sleeve.... :)

Nothing moved in the heat of day unless it was a dire necessity.

I love that line...it's so hobbity!!! :thumbs:

We await the next part anxiously! :p

[Huan the Hound]

I absolutely love this story. Your hobbit-talk and society is just as real to me as when Tolkien describes it. Elves may be fancy and pretty but I like the hobbit lifestyle best out of any other in the books anyway!

I also love where this is going, SotS anyone? I hope so. My favorite part... :grin:


Hobbits rule!:thumbs: :blush:

[Tar-Ancalimë]

yes! i am so glad you updated. i had started out being slighty dubious over this story, but im liking it more and more. i love your characters, and, as huan said, your hobbit life seems real and quite authentic to me. your plot flows nicely and it is easy and very enjoyable to read. im glad you decided to continue, please keep doing so :)

[Bess the Bard]

Thanks, guys. Your comments, as always, mean a lot. I hope to get the next bit up this weekend.

[Pil]

Ooo Bess....i'm dying for the next part....i'm not rushing anybody i just wanted to keep stories up on the page and there for people to read ready for the next installment. :)

Keep it up Bess...this is great! :p

[Bess the Bard]

Thanks, Pil. I always appreciate your enthusiam and support. I am almost done with the next section.

[Pil]

:hooray: Thanks for continuing! I look forward to reading it! :)

[Aragorn's Latest Lay]

A great fic. Really earthy and the characters are so well drawn.

A truely Tolkien-esque story with some great empathy for the non-central characters to the original story. :hooray: :hooray: :hooray:

I'm very much looking forward to reading more of this. The last bit was a great bit of writing that makes me want to read more now. I ca't wait! :grin: