"The Eye's Apple" by Tialys

Glimpses into the lives of the Gamgee children.

Chapter One: Pippin Gamgee

In which Pippin lad is a perfect replication and Peregrin Took will miss his dessert.

Note: The year is 1435. Frodo is 12, Merry is 8 and Pippin is 6. Also, Merry Brandybuck will always be called Meriadoc, and Pippin Took as Peregrin. Sam's children will be called Merry and Pippin. Frodo is the only Frodo there now, and that is Frodo Gamgee. Now there's no confusion ; ) Also. Yes, I know Faramir I would really have been born by now, but if you can just imagine with me that he has not, that would be great.

Pippin Gamgee had truly taken after his father in certain ways; which actually surprised most of the Gamgee relations, as the Took for which he was so generally rightly named had spent so much of his time with his young namesake it seemed only right that young Pip should behave, in all aspects, like his Uncle Peregrin. But in this particular way it was not so. Pippin lad knew that Uncle Peregrin would have been hurt (or so he suspected) to learn that the little hobbit of whom he was so proud of was afraid of attempting such a silly thing. Well, no matter how much influence the Gamgee received from his uncle, at least this single influence came from his father. Perhaps it originated from hearing his da' quote his grandfather, the Old Gaffer, so much, or maybe it was just plain hobbit sense. Whatever the cause, Pippin Gamgee knew this much: water and hobbits do not mix.

Now, standing besides the gentlest stretch of the Brandywine, he couldn't help but hang his head in shame as he thought of what his uncle, who was staying at Bag End right now with Uncle Meriadoc, would think of him. Uncle Peregrin was so proud of his 'miniature self' -as he fondly referred to the young Gamgee as-. He was always bragging about him to any that would listen as proudly as if Pippin lad was his own son.

Samwise Gamgee often worried about his children, whether having been named after such prominent hobbits was indeed a good idea. None of his children lacked in love or attention, but he feared the extra amounts of this bestowed on his young son might swell his head a bit. Of course, he always reminded himself, the only one of his children to worry of lacking in such attention would be Merry lad, and he was not lacking in admiration either.

Meriadoc Brandybuck was just as proud of his little namesake. The two Gamgee lads were only two years apart in birth, and neither had a rival for 'their' uncle's attention. Not to say that Merry or Pippin ignored the other Gamgee children (much on the contrary), but they could not help but be inclined to show those helpless bits of favoritism. Each held it as a private running bet with the other that the little one named after them was 'better'.

Sam and Rose quickly grew used to the long-lived argument between the future Master of Buckland and future Thain. Meriadoc and Peregrin never let the joke travel too far from hand, and were careful to not make the other Gamgee children fell overlooked.

Pippin lad knew, deep down, where no one truly thinks to look when faced with a problem, that Uncle Peregrin would still love him just as much if he really *was* too scared to try swimming, but at the front of his mind was the starring fact that Uncle Peregrin would find it disappointing to find out that *his* Pippin lad, of all hobbits, was to chicken to swim.

Pippin lad looked out at the river through the tears in his eyes at his siblings playing in the water. His uncles had brought up the activity (his da', of course, would never have) of swimming, and it had stuck on the rest of the Gamgee children.

'Just not me,' Pippin mumbled to himself.

"Alright, Pip lad?"

Pippin jumped, startled from his thoughts by his eldest brother, Frodo. Pippin Gamgee was positive that Frodo knew everything; he had to. Frodo was good at everything, and the only one besides Elly old enough to stay up late. Pippin had no definite proof, but he knew Frodo and Elly must be allowed to stay up all the way to two! They were that old and important, and were given extra privileges. Pippin could hardly wait 'till he was old enough to stay up like them. Of course, the main reason Frodo was so important was whom he was named after: da's best friend, the Ringbearer (da' had been a Ringbearer too, but he never mentioned that part). Da' wouldn't name a hobbit after Uncle Frodo unless that hobbit was really special.

Frodo Gamgee knelt carefully by his little brother, his left arm currently occupied by three-year old Hamfast Gamgee, who was still too young to learn to swim. Daisy Gamgee stayed inside with Rose, who was pregnant with her ninth. Frodo wrapped his free arm around Pippin's shoulders, squeezing him tight for a second before releasing his struggling brother.

"What's wrong, Pip? You love me to do that." Frodo searched in Pippin's eyes, but the little Gamgee quickly turned his head, burying it in his drawn up knees. "Pip? Do you want me to get da'?" Pippin shook his curly head 'no'. "Do you want me to get Uncle Peregrin and--"

"No!"

Frodo jumped at the little hobbit's vehemence, not too mention his volume. The other Gamgee children stopped their running game of water-tag to look up. Merry lad scrambled up on the bank and walked over to his brother, dripping water from his trousers as he went. Though Frodo was usually quite good at handling his younger siblings, Merry was still better at understanding Pippin. Merry knelt in front of what would have been Pippin's face had he been looking up.

"Pip?" Merry asked, so quite it was nearly just a breath.

"What?" Came the slightly muffled reply.

"Why don't you want to sw-- Uncle Peregrin!"

Pippin lad gasped and jerked his head up to stare into the eyes of his uncle. Peregrin Took dropped to the ground next to his nephew and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Lads," he said, looking to Frodo and Merry. "Could you excuse us for a bit?"

"Sure, Uncle Peregrin." Both lads retreated back.

"Now, Pippin lad. What's all this fuss about?"

Pippin kept his eyes cast down to the ground, to ashamed to look his uncle in the eye. "Nothing, Uncle Peregrin. I'm alright. You can go back and talk to da' and Uncle Meriadoc."

Peregrin could not help but chuckle a bit. "Am I being dismissed, then?"

Pippin, always one to take adults seriously, nodded. Peregrin stood, and walked off a bit, keeping an eye on his nephew, noticing the lad's yearning looks toward the river. Not turning, Peregrin called back to Pippin lad.

"You know.... I was too terrified to even set foot in the Brandywine until I was ten years old; and that was only when Cousin Merry pushed me in."

Pippin lad sniffed, looking up and turning to Peregrin. "R-really?"

"Really." Peregrin said, sitting back down beside Pippin. "I didn't speak to him for a week after that." He smiled at the memory. "Of, course, if he hadn't pushed me in I probably would never have tried to swim." He carefully left out the fact that when Meriadoc had pushed him in he had been carried a mile downstream, hit his head on a rock, had to be rescued by his cousin, had been sick the whole week after that, and the reason he had not spoke to Meriadoc had been because his cousin had not been allowed to see him. Pippin lad did not need to know that.

"So," Peregrin continued, standing. "Would you like to try?"

Pippin lad stiffened again.

"You don't have to," Peregrin quickly added. "Would you rather wait?"

Pippin nodded, slowly. 'Would Peregrin be mad?'

"Alright, then!" Peregrin stooped down, scooping Pippin lad up in his arms and holding him upside-down, the lad squealing in delight. "You know what, Pip lad?"

"What!" Pippin gasped though his laughing.

"I bet you my dessert you mother's making that I can beat you to the top of that tree!"

"You can't!"

"Really?"

"Yah!"

Peregrin set Pippin down, brushing the lad off. "Ready, set--"

"Go!" Pippin lad was off before Peregrin could blink.

Peregrin Took, heir of the Tooks and future Thain of Tuckborough, smiled as he rushed after his nephew.

'Just like me when I was young.' He sighed, 'I'm going to miss that dessert.'

October, 17, 2003

Please review!

"The Eye's Apple" by Tialys

Glimpses into the lives of the Gamgee children.

Chapter Two: Frodo Gamgee

In which Frodo lad promises and Sam Gamgee learns to let go.

Note: The year is 1433. Frodo lad is 10, Elanor is 12, Rose lass is 8, Merry is 6, and Pippin is 4. Again, Frodo might be called just 'Frodo' because he is the only Frodo there now. There are others of course, but they are not in this story. Also, I know many peoples' concept of Frodo Gamgee was probably not like this (mine wasn't until I started typing actually), but I like it. So if you could alter your hard-set image of the little guy (if you have one), we can continue with my version of Frodo lad.

Bag End finally received its first true snowfall the winter of 1433, and Frodo Gamgee could not have been more thrilled. The only other good snowfall he had experienced had been seven years ago when he was three, and was considered by his 'overprotective' parents too young to go tromping through that deep a snowfall and catching a cold -- or worse.

'Or worse'. Frodo Gamgee had never been exactly a 'healthy' child. He never really caught a cold; it was always something worse. He had taken ill with pneumonia three times in his life, and had obtained and bearly conquered scarlet fever just the last winter. His frequent illnesses were often attributed to his diminutive size, but none were sure if it was this cause, or the other way around.

No hobbit was certain if it was for these reasons, or other completely different ones, but whatever the reason, Samwise Gamgee tended to worry over his eldest son more so than the rest of his children. Most simply dismissed it as the lad's tendency to sicken easier than other hobbit children and left it at that, but Rose Gamgee knew better. It was poor Frodo lad's name that drove her husband to be so watchful of the lad.

It was truly a token to Frodo Baggins' name that Sam treated his son that way, though Frodo lad never saw it that way. He was not allowed, though he was certainly old enough to by all hobbit rights, to climb trees, swim unsupervised, or usually play in any snowfall to bless the Shire.

But it did not matter whether Sam judged Frodo lad allowed to go out or not; Rose Gamgee had finally put her foot down on the matter.

"It's ridiculous," she finally stated to her husband. "He's ten, Sam! He needs to play with the other lads, not stay cooped up here all the time with a book, dreading of even sneezing for fear that you'll stick 'im in a bed! Every time you worry he might be sick he is." Here Rose's face softened at the stricken look on Sam's face. "He's just as tired of it as you are, love; but you need to let 'im go." Rose knew well enough why Sam thought this way, and one could really not argue with her theory.

The resemblance between Frodo lad and Sam's master was remarkable. Her son had the Baggins' appearance in completion, from his uncommonly dark hair to his startling blue eyes. But no matter how much it hurt Sam, Frodo lad had to be allowed to be normal. Lads got scrapes and bruises, they got sick, that was life; but when it happened to Frodo lad it was more -- with him it might as well have been the mortal wounding of Frodo Baggins. It somehow always seemed the same to Sam.

Sam knew his wife was right, though his own problem was more than being tired of it his son's mishaps. He agreed to Frodo's being allowed outside, but insisted on making sure his son was bundled up heavily before allowing him to set foot on the doorstep.

Frodo, upon hearing the terms of his being given admittance to the wondrous blanket of white outside his window, was ecstatic. He practically flew into the entry hall to await his father. Elanor, Rose lass, Merry and Pippin were already congregating there, struggling with assorted coats, mittens, and scarves. Frodo quickly snatched his coat off a hook and donned it with more skill than he had expected himself to have, having had few opportunities to go outside when coats were needed. Sam came into the hall as he was finishing with his mittens just as Merry and Pippin were finally heading out the door, having disentangled from the wrestle-argument concerning which scarf was whose.

"Here you are, lad." Sam murmured as he knotted a large blue scarf around his son's neck. "Now you keep that on, hear?"

"Yes, da'." Frodo had adopted all seriousness, for fear of his da' changing his mind at the last minute.

"Now your cloak, son."

Frodo's face fell. "Da'--" But the look on Sam's face silenced the oncoming protest. "No one else is--" he mumbled under his breath, but Sam's hearing was as good as ever.

"An' no one else seems to have your taste for catching every illness in the book." Sam countered as he wrapped the cloak around Frodo's tiny shoulders.

Frodo felt tears slowly begin to pick at the corners of his eyes, and turned his head down, so as to not let his da' see them. "It's not my fault." He whispered.

Sam looked up from the small broach he was clasping on his son's cloak to Frodo's hidden face. Small brown curls hung over the lad's eyes, painfully reminding him of the way Mr. Frodo had looked as they struggled through Mordor; head downcast, so Sam would not (or so Frodo had hoped) see how hard the task was for him. A small gasp escaped Sam's lips upon seeing the resemblance, and he came dangerously close to commanding his son to remove his coat and never leave the house ever, but the look in his son's eyes as they were finally raised stopped him.

"I'll be careful, da'. I won't get sick again. I promise!" Frodo's eyes were wide and hopeful, tearing all resolution in Sam's heart; and the former Ringbearer smiled.

"You make sure you don't." He commanded with mock seriousness, leaning in to look his son in the eyes. Frodo nodded vigorously, rebellious curls dancing around his pale face.

"Promise!" He said, holding out his extended pinky-finger. Sam smiled and hooked his finger through Frodo's considerably smaller one; careful to not let his growing tears fall.

Frodo threw his small arms around Sam's neck and spun around, rushing out the door.

Sam stood slowly and leaned against the wood-paneled wall. Turning from the door, wiping his wet eyes as he went, he wandered into the parlor, glancing out the ice-lined window as he went at his children playing outside.

'Gotta let go, Sam Gamgee. Gotta let go.'

October 19, 2003

Please review!

"The Eye's Apple" by Tialys

Glimpses into the lives of the Gamgee children.

Chapter Three: Merry Gamgee

In which Merry is sick and Primrose hides good.

Note: The year is 1443. Merry is 16, Primrose is 8, and Pippin is 14. Also, I will eventually put these in chronological order, but until I have all the chapters written they will be ordered as they come. I've very sorry if this confuses anyone.

Merry Gamgee was not exactly what one would call pleased at the moment. Sick hobbits rarely were, and Merry was no exception. Of course, just being sick with his simple cold would not normally have irked him so much, had not the illness chosen to fall on the same week the Gamgee family was scheduled to visit relatives. Merry always looked forward to these events -- mainly the pleasure of seeing his cousins again -- and the sudden cancellation of his trip was crushing every wonderful illusion he had visualized of the trip.

Primrose Gamgee was no more thrilled than her elder brother. She, too, had caught the troublesome virus -- from Merry, as many suspected -- and had thrown quite a tantrum upon learning she would not be included in the family's visit.

Merry and Primrose were given the command to rest, drink -- what both had calculated as -- too much water than could possibly be good for a hobbit, and to not cause trouble to each other. Their parents were not harsh about the sentence -- as they did not wish to risk spreading whatever their children had caught to others' children -- but Primrose was too young to look at the situation that way, and her screams reverberated throughout Bag End's many hallways.

From his splayed-out position on the couch, Merry groaned miserably. He was to be the joyful Primrose's baby-sitter while the family was out.

'You would think my head-ache would make me unsuited to watch Prim.' He thought remorsefully.

No such thing occurred to his parents, however; and he could find no sympathy from his siblings -- none of whom wished to take custody of the screaming terror that was Primrose.

Sam Gamgee's second eldest son beseeched his father with pleading eyes, but found no sympathy.

"Now, lad," the former Ringbearer argued as he tucked another blanket around his son, "Prim can't be that bad. Just give her a while to calm down and I'm sure she'll be fine company. We're only to be gone for the day." And that was that.

Merry -- with dying hope -- sought out the help of his brother Pippin, but found nothing more there. Pippin was immensely fond of his brother, slightly annoyed with Primrose, and had been looking forward to seeing his cousins for a couple of weeks now. "Sorry, Mer. You're on your own with her."

And with that last death of hope, the healthy portion of the Gamgee family left.

"Mer!"

The younger of the Gamgee children's tiny voice rang through the hole, making Merry's slightly throbbing headache worsen.

"What, Prim?" He muttered from his cushioned place on the couch.

Whumph! Merry suddenly felt the whole weight of his sister land firmly on his midsection; accompanied by the firm command, "Play, Mer!"

He cracked one eye open, trying to look as miserable as possible, so as to hopefully convince Primrose of how horribly sick he was -- all the while wondering how she could possibly be sick and still leap onto anything.

"What?" He whispered, following his inquiry with a round of pathetically fake coughing.

"Play, Mer! Mummy said you're spossed to watch me an' play wi' me."

"No she didn't." He countered, having numerous doubts that his mother said any such thing to his vibrant sibling.

"Uh-huh! And we're going to play hider-seek, and I'm going to win 'cause I'm reeeally good, and I'm better at it than you are, 'cause I know where to hide already, so I'm going to go there and you're gonna try an' find me, but you won't, 'cause I'm better an' --"

"Okay!" Merry quickly cut the painful talking off quick an equally painful outburst that struck additional agony to his head. "Go hide."

The weight left his stomach with a painful spring, and Merry sighed with relief. 'Hider-seek' -- as Primrose called it -- was simple enough. Primrose would hide; Merry would seek when he felt like it. He had been the subject of this elaborate method of sibling-ditching before. Frodo-lad had matured beyond that technique by now, but Merry still found it quite useful.

The Gamgee lad finally closed his eyes and entered the blissful realm of sleep.

Merry awoke to a haunting silence floating through Bag End. Having been stuck with this job before, he knew the baby-sitting Primrose did not usually include quiet. He sat up on the couch, startled.

"Prim?"

His call echoed through the hole, receiving no response.

Merry started combing through Bag-End's numerous rooms, calling his disappearing sibling.

"Prim? You win, Prim! Come out!"

None of his cries brought forth success, and his unassisted search continued.

The last room he came to was his father's study -- though Sam still referred to it as Frodo's, and had rarely set foot in it. Merry had passed the room up at first, mainly because none of the Gamgee children ever entered it, knowing how uncomfortable their father was about the contents of that room. It had been Uncle Frodo's study, and was the same as Uncle Frodo had left it all those years ago when he sailed away. None of the children had known Uncle Frodo -- except Elanor, but she had been too young to remember -- but all knew their father held him in obvious respect. Sam Gamgee had refused to move a single piece of parchment from its original place among the stacks of books and papers. The children knew how much their father missed their mystery uncle, and were therefore careful to avoid the abandoned study.

"Prim?" Merry's voice was barely a whisper. The door to the study was cracked open, and he sighed in frustration.

"Prim. You know you're not supposed to come in --" Merry swung the door open as he spoke, but stopped mid-sentence.

Primrose Gamgee was sitting tailor-fashion on the floor next to their father's quest box -- how the Gamgee children reverently referred to the trunk of their father's, containing all of his possessions from when he was a Ringbearer. None of the younger children had yet seen the contents of the trunk -- Merry and Pippin having only just been told and shown the complete and unedited story of their father's adventures.

Sam had made it a rule in Bag End that none of his children would be told what really had happened until he deemed them ready, which had been longer for some than others. Until old enough, the Gamgee children were told fantisified versions of the quest. Darker parts of the tale were edited out, and happier parts lengthened enough to please the hobbits' child-like curiosity.

When Merry had first heard the true tale of his father's adventures he had been filled with pride and fear for what his father had done -- wishing all the more that Uncle Frodo was still at Bag End. Uncle Frodo was the dream relative of every one of the Gamgee children. As much as their father thought of him, he must have been amazing; and as wondrous as their father's stories, the treasures from his trip deemed to be just as grand.

Primrose looked up at Merry, lifting her shiny discovery above her head and smiling proudly.

"Look, Mer!"

Primrose sat, lifting -- with difficulty -- a short sword over her head. Sting, their father's sword from the quest. Uncle Frodo's sword.

"Prim!" Merry shouted, much more harshly than he had intended. "Put that down!"

Primrose's face fell, and she slowly lowered the sword to her lap. "Mer?" Her bottom lip trembled slightly, and her eyes were getting blurry.

Merry leapt forward, carefully prying Sting from her grasp and placing the sword gently back in the trunk, firmly shutting its lid. He spun on his sister, shaking almost as bad as she was.

The look of anger and loss in her brother's eyes sent Primrose into hysterics, and she bust into sobs.

Merry's eyes widened, and he scooped his little sister off the floor and onto his lap, seating himself next to the trunk and shushing her as best he could.

"Shh. Shh. Prim." He whispered, brushing stray curls back from her face; but the little Gamgee's tears continued, and she began to shake more in Merry's arms.

Merry was truly doing no better. Sting may not have been used in years, but its razor-fine point remained, and seeing Primrose's weak hold on the blade above her head was enough to frighten him more so than his outburst had done her.

"I'm sorry, Mer." Primrose finally said, having calmed much more than her brother had, and feeling Merry shaking had confused her out of her own tears. "Mer?"

Merry leaned his face into Primrose's soft baby hair, breathing deeply into her curls and willing himself to stop frightening his sister. "I'm okay, Prim." He said as soon as he felt he could speak steadily. "Prim? You know you're not supposed to touch da's things, right?" His voice, to his annoyance, still shook and was strangely tight sounding.

"Mer, I said I was sorry!"

"I know." He said, cracking a smile at his sister's reasoning. "I know."

Primrose looked sorrowfully at the trunk behind her brother. "Can I see in the trunk again, Mer?"

"No!" Merry exclaimed -- a bit sharper than he would have intended -- silencing Primrose.

"No." He whispered again. "Sorry, Prim... not yet."

"Okay." She whispered back, disappointed. They sat in silence until Primrose piped up again. "Are you really okay, Mer?"

Merry smiled, squeezing Prim gently. "Yes, Prim. I'm okay now."

"Mer?" Primrose asked, turning in her brother's lap to face him -- thankfully missing the tearstains down his face -- and planting a kiss on his nose. "Did I hide good?"

November 22, 2003

Please review! Also, if anyone has any ideas for other chapters I would love to hear them! Thanks!