A Time to Dance, A Time to Mourn

By: Elemmírë

Summary: In which Saradoc Brandybuck comes to realize that truly coming of age sometimes means more than just turning 33 years old.

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings does not belong to me, nor am I making any profit off either its story or characters.

Author’s Note: Written for Marigold’s Tale Challenge 33, which had to be a story about a Coming of Age. I also had to include the following elements: a blocked chimney, a fierce dog, & a lost child.

Saradoc is 33, Merimac is 31, Milo is 26, Seredic is 24 ½, & Frodo is 4 ½ (ages 21, 20, 16 ½, 15 ½, & 3 in Man years)

The scene along the banks of the Brandywine River that afternoon in mid-Spring was an idyllic one as a birthday was celebrated. It was not just any birthday, however, but the 33rd birthday of the Master’s firstborn son. Today, Saradoc Brandybuck was officially of age according to hobbit tradition and custom.

Except for a chimney blocked by a bird’s nest in one of the guest apartments, the day had been an absolutely flawless one. All the guests were enjoying themselves while immersing themselves in the ample food, drink, dance, and conversation of one of the largest parties to have ever graced the banks of the Brandywine. The birthday mathoms handed out by the byrding were received with gusto, for they had all been hand-selected with the individual in mind. As he walked through the crowd of family and friends, Saradoc was constantly being thanked for the thoughtful appreciation for some gift or other.

He especially smiled when he heard his oldest and youngest guests nearby. Sara turned to see wee Frodo Baggins (his first cousin, once-removed on his father’s side) sitting on the grass next to old Bilbo Baggins (also his cousin through his father’s side.) The precocious 4½-year old was pushing the mathom Saradoc had gifted him with back and forth on the ground with both his sticky, little, jam-and-crumb covered hands. The mathom was a little dog carved from wood and it had once been given to Saradoc himself by Auntie Primula (Frodo's mother), when he had been the wee lad's age. The painted dog stood on a small, wooden platform that had wheels and a pull-rope attached. When one moved the toy, the dog’s tail would wag to and fro and its mouth would open and close, revealing a pink cloth tongue inside.

Upon discovering it amongst a box of his childhood toys in the family’s mathom room at Brandy Hall, Sara knew without a doubt that his youngest first cousin would take to the toy at first sight. He stopped his wanderings to overhear Cousin Bilbo begin to tell Frodo a story about a great hound named Huan.

"Huan was a mighty dog that could understand people talk. However, it was granted him to be able to talk three times during his life. There was nothing that could escape his sight or scent and Huan never needed to sleep. He could be fierce when those he sought to protect were endangered …." Bilbo said in his best storytelling voice.

Saradoc's smile grew as the normally energetic little faunt sat entranced, a child lost in

another of Bilbo’s endless supply of tales. It would not surprise him in the least if tomorrow Jelly (as he’d once named the toy dog) acquired a new name of Huan and would henceforth be the fiercest dog in the Shire in accord with wee Frodo’s imaginations.

"Would you look at that!" a voice exclaimed from next to him. Sara turned to see his brother, Merimac, and their two other first cousins, Milo and Seredic (often called Red) standing beside him. He greeted them warmly, the four being rather close in age and very good friends, having all grown up together in Buckland since they were born. All lived with their families within the multitude of relations found at Brandy Hall, save for Milo’s family whom lived across the river on the opposite side of the Marish.

"So, our impishly cute little troll of a cousin can sit still after all," Mac remarked. He or Milo were often the ones designated to help their aunt and uncle mind Frodo whenever the small Baggins family came to stay for a visit at Brandy Hall. However, as he approached the end of faunthood, Frodo was turning out to be quite the little rascal indeed. He had an extremely curious nature and was known to wander off if one did not keep a close enough eye on the bright and lively wee hobbit. Frodo was also of that age when he was starting to get into everything and nothing left out in the open was considered safe.

"Hush, Mac," Milo hissed. "Auntie Prim nor Uncle Drogo will be none to pleased to hear you calling their darling child names … even if it is an appropriate one."

"I agree," Red joined in. "They’re more prone to calling him disgustingly endearing things like, ‘Pumpkin’, or ‘Sweet-pea.’"

Truth be told, all four lads were quite protective of their youngest cousin, their jovial talk notwithstanding. Frodo was just too endearingly sweet-natured and loveable to do otherwise. He’d unknowingly wrapped himself around their hearts from the moment they had all met him. The cousins were also just as happy that their once childless aunt and uncle now had a little lad of their very own, their wish finally granted after many long years in which there seemed to be little hope left.

Not wishing to distract Frodo from Bilbo’s tale, the four moved on until they came upon Esmeralda Took and her older brother, Paladin. They had been invited to the birthday as she was Saradoc’s promised and her older brother her escort. At seeing his sister and future brother-in-law together Paladin, however, pined for his own promised lass, Eglantine Banks, who had been unable to attend the party.

Under the watchful eyes of Paladin Took (not to mention his own mother and father), Sara and Esme danced with each other long into the night, revelling in each other’s company and not taking much notice of anything else. It was a splendid party and ended too soon for their young tastes.

The next afternoon during a outing across the river that consisted mainly of a picnic along the banks of the Marish, Saradoc Brandybuck made sure out of the corner of his eye that Paladin, continuing to serve as escort to his youngest sister, remained asleep underneath the willow tree by the river. The love-struck hobbit heard Esmeralda sigh dreamily and he turned his gaze full upon her trademark Tookish green eyes that seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. He felt his mouth close upon soft, full rosebud lips and the two hobbits promised to each other soon forgot the world around them. Sara couldn’t believe that he was of age finally and by summertime next year he and his beloved Esme would be officially wed. She had come of age four years ago and had been waiting for him all this time, (sometimes more patiently than others.)

All too soon, the couple was caught off guard by a child’s voice yelling in their ears, "Fwo find Sawa, Mac! ... Eww, they kissing!"

It was Frodo.

Sara and Esme quickly disengaged their sumptuous kiss, pulling away from each other as their cheeks blushed and Paladin stirred awake. Saradoc made sure he was sitting a respectable distance from Esme while she busied herself with smoothing her skirts out and Paladin pretended to ignore them. He knew Sara’s intentions toward his baby sister and he approved, for Saradoc Brandybuck was a good hobbit and had been a good friend for many years. He knew the lad would not do anything to harm Esme and he trusted them to behave themselves until they were wed. His presence was there more for decorum’s sake. He found it highly amusing, however, the color of red staining their cheeks as little Frodo Baggins stood before them having caught them out.

Soon Merimac, Seredic, and Milo appeared chatting amiably amongst themselves and bearing another picnic basket laden with food for all. Sara and Esme were, of course,

none too pleased at having what was supposed to be their private luncheon disturbed.

"When we’re married and have children Saradoc, I’ve got the mind to sew little bells* into their clothing so we can always hear them!" Esmeralda huffed, her Tookish lilt becoming quite pronounced so that it was almost impossible to decipher.

Sara knew that the true blame lay with his brother and cousins and not with the

unknowing faunt. Frodo’s endearing antics, big blue eyes, and chubby baby cheeks quickly won over Esme and soon all were enjoying a feast underneath the willow tree by the river.

And so, Saradoc came into adulthood as had countless generations of his forbearer’s family since hobbits first awoke in the realm known as Middle-earth. Not much immediately changed in his life; he continued to court Esmeralda Took and he also continued to build upon his responsibilities as the future Master of Buckland, learning from his father. It would not be for several more years however, until he truly felt as an adult amongst his people ….

* * * * *

Saradoc held Esmeralda, now his wife of six years close. Along with the entirety of Brandy Hall, both remained stunned and in acute shock over the days’ unforeseen horrible and most tragic of events.

"I-I cannot believe they’re gone," Esme whispered, her disbelief apparent.

Sara hugged her even closer. "I know Love, I know," he replied in a voice just as choked with saddened emotion as his wife’s.

As Esme was starting first breakfast that morning, Sara had been awakened by a heavy-sounding knock on the front door to their apartment. He would never forget the look of stricken grief on his father’s face or eyes when he told them of the shocking news that a fisher-hobbit had discovered Uncle Drogo’s body floating facedown in the Brandywine River. The tragedy had soon doubled when word was received from Uncle Dinodas that Auntie Primula’s body had been found as well, mired in the reeds further down the river. Their boat had mysteriously been upright with nary a scratch upon it, bobbing with the river’s strong current.

Despite their own grief, Saradoc knew that whatever they felt was almost trivial when compared to the overwhelming anguish, fright, and distress that young 11 ½-year old Frodo Baggins felt and would no doubt feel for the rest of his life.

Frodo had been staying the night with his Uncle Sara and Auntie Esme (as he’d dubbed them after their marriage) when his parents had gone on their usual outing together, just as they’d always done since he could first remember visiting his numerous relatives at Brandy Hall. It had been a rare treat for both the lad and Sara and Esme, for Frodo would usually spend the night in the care of Sara’s parents or Aunt Asphodel and Uncle Rufus whenever his parents went on their traditional evening boat ride on the river.

Just as he would never forget the sight of his father, the current Master of Buckland, breaking down into weeping sobs whilst clutching onto Frodo’s hastily abandoned toy bear, Beorn, Saradoc did not think that he could ever get the sound of young Frodo’s heart-wrenching screams out of his head. The little lad’s high-pitched screams and sobs had sounded as if they contained all the pain of the world … and in some ways, Sara supposed they had.

Neither he nor Esmeralda would ever forget the scene of the small, slight child kneeling in between the cold, wet bodies of his mother and father, trying in vain to wake them up until he became hysterical when his efforts produced no results.

Sara and Esme now sat on the bed in the guest room of their apartment. Frodo looked even smaller in the large double bed, where he lay in a deep sleep courtesy of a sedative and sleeping draught administered by the healer. Frodo’s world was now forever shattered and both adult hobbits knew that their youngest cousin would never be the same after such a traumatic event.

Saradoc vowed right then and there as he gently held Frodo’s little hand, that he would be there for the lad no matter what.

Frodo’s pale brow furrowed and he twitched in his drugged sleep, beginning to murmur indistinguishable words amongst his growing whimpers. Sara and Esme could only watch helplessly as the child’s movement soon turned into erratic thrashing, although he remained asleep.

Gathering quilt and all, Sara hefted his youngest first cousin into his arms, rocking him gently in an effort to soothe and quell whatever nightmare Frodo was caught up in. Esme began to sing a Tookish lullaby, soft and halting at first until she witnessed the calming effect it had on the newly orphaned child. Sara watched as his wife ran her dainty fingers through Frodo’s mop of thick, dark curls. He felt another pang of sorrow, this one of a different nature. He wondered if he and Esme would ever have a lad or lass of their own.

Anxious for a child of their own making, he and Esme had already briefly mentioned to each other the possibility of taking Frodo in and raising him--if none of the lad’s Baggins relations offered to take him in and if Bilbo (as head of the Baggins family) agreed.

After six years without producing a child (or future heir to Buckland), they were becoming quite desperate and they had been trying all sorts of old wives’ tales in an effort to be with child. Auntie Primula and Esme had often spoke of such things together, for Primula knew exactly what it was like to be married for many years and be without her heart’s true desire. Finally after many, many years of marriage she and Uncle Drogo had finally been blessed and borne Frodo. They had provided such wonderful support for their nephew and niece as they struggled and never let them give up hope of one day having their very own babe.

However sad and heart-breaking the situation was, the unexpected deaths of Auntie Primula and Uncle Drogo could be a blessing in disguise to the young, childless couple, despite their mourning.

Sara continued to hold Frodo, even when the child lay limp once more. Looking down onto the features of his youngest cousin’s pale, finely-boned face, Sara suddenly felt much older than his forty years. As he sat with his wife holding the dear child close, he wondered if perhaps this was his true Coming of Age.

The End ... for now

*bows to Grey Wonderer with a heartfelt grin & wave