Melancholia and Madness

Post Quest- Shire - OC Angst

PG-13 for some dark intense scenes.

Of course Frodo left in September and sailed with the elves over the sea to the Uttermost West and grew well and happy.

Rose and Sam soon had enough children to keep Briar fully occupied. And the Gamgee children adored her. She always knew how they felt and how to cheer them or comfort them and also how to get them to mind her if they were naughty.

And when Briar grew old they looked after her fondly nad made sure she lacked for nothing. Especially love.

One day in Briar’s 99th year Elanor was visiting her dear old nurse.

“I’ve brought you something, Briar.”

“Yes, I know.” Briar had after all seen the prettily wrapped parcel in Elanor’s basket.

Elanor handed it to Briar who prescisely and neatly undid the ribbon and paper. Inside was a small red book.

“It’s a copy I’ve made for you of Uncle Frodo’s tale.”

“So I see. Thank you, my dear.” Pursing her lips Briar leafed through the pages.

“I remember him, you know.” Elanor said.

“Oh, you were but a babe when he left. You can’t remember.”

“But I do. He was so sweet and I loved him. I know I did.”

“Hmnn.... Yes. You probably did. He had a way with little ones. They all loved him.”

“And you loved him, too.” Elanor said with a twinkle in her eye

“Hmnnph...... Well..he was very good-looking.”

“And do you know what else I remember. That he loved you, too.”

Briar harumphed again and cleared her throat and tried not to look at the younger woman. Briar fidgeted some and fluffed out the lace around her throat. She coughed a little cough again.

Then with a little crack in her otherwise crisp voice Briar said...

“Yes... I know.”

Frodo struggles to deal with the aftereffects of his ordeals and with a stranger’s pain.

 Thorns

The mid-summer of SR 1320 was one of joy, bounty and unparalleled fruitfulness for all in the Shire. For all but one. Frodo often sensed the ripe goodness that surrounded him and he could smile and act as if he truly felt the elation everyone else seemed to share. But it was a facade and it had been slowly cracking and now that he had resigned as Mayor his fellow hobbits had begun to look at him askance and once again the name Mad Baggins , which had formerly been applied to Bilbo, was now being whispered behind his back. Frodo heard it, nevertheless and did not care.

It was past midnight and he could not sleep. He slept little and when he did his dreams did not allow him to rest. So he only slept now when he could no longer keep his eyes open nor his body from succumbing to exhaustion. He thought he hid it from Sam and his new wife Rose who lived in their rooms here with him at Bag End. But they saw it and Frodo knew they did and they all kept up the pretext that everything was fine.

But it wasn’t. Frodo would never feel fine again.

It was raining outside the comfortable shelter of Bag End. The gentle nourishing rains that fell at just the right times in this blessed year. Sometimes Frodo would go out coatless and let it soak through him and for a brief time it’s healing waters would revive him as it did a withered flower. If he could not sleep he might as well seek some solace in the freshening shower.

As he neared the front door he stopped as he heard what sounded like a scratching sound at the base of the door. Like a small animal begging to be let in. And there was a shuffling sound as if whatever it was could not cease moving around restlessly. Then again the scratching. It was eerie and somehow unbearably sad.

Frodo cautiously opened the round green door. The dim light from the fire in his hearth just faintly made the dark wet disheveled shape of what was barely recognizable as a hobbit visible on his doorstep. It moved with fear at the door’s opening and crawled backwards from the doorway then stopped and a face almost totally obscured by dirt and wild long black hair looked up at him. Eyes, dark wide eyes locked onto his own and in an instant recognized a fellow sufferer of the kind of pain few others could ever imagine.

A filthy jaggedly nailed hand reached out to him and the eyes pleaded with him wordlessly.

Pity and the same recognition of a kindred lost soul made Frodo not hesitate for even a moment to reach out and take the poor creature’s hand and it gripped his own as if it’s life depended upon him.

Then a voice faint but desperate pleaded.....

“Please. Let me in. Let me in!”

It was a female hobbit, he realized now, though there had been no way to discern that by her appearance.

“Of course, of course.” Frodo replied with great concern, and urging her to rise she unsteadily got partly to her feet and half crawled into the hall.

Just inside the threshold she stopped abruptly, dropped his hand, his right hand that missed one finger. Then she scrabbled with her own claw-like nails on a and small area of the wooden floor beneath her.

“Evil, evil, evil was here!” she said in a rising and jagged voice. Then she grasped his hand tightly again. “And evil was here!” She rubbed the space where his ring-finger had been with her rough blackened fingertips. Then she struggled until she stood upright. Her hands worked there way up to his neck and chest just over his heart and to his left shoulder. “And here, here, here...!” her voice began to keen. Then suddenly it stopped and she dropped unconscious at his feet so rapidly he could not prevent her from falling.

With his face white from shock and old fears that had begun to suffuse his mind at her frightening words and actions he bent and picked her ragged form up and carried her to the hearth where, not really knowing what to do, he gently laid her on the rug before the fire.

He stared at her for a moment his own blue eyes becoming nearly as dark as her own were beneath their closed lids. He could not move.

“Who are you?” he finally managed to ask in only a whisper that caught in his throat.

He hadn’t expected her to answer but then her eyes flew open and again painfully latched onto his own.

“I am Briar. Like the briars of Mordor..... thorns..... thorns...full of thorns. .......... I am mad!” Then her eyes shut again and she was senseless.

Frodo was frozen with a paralyzing combination of terror and compassion. It was not long before the compassion won out.

“Sam! Rose!” he called. He could not stand to wake them or disturb them but he had no choice. This creature, this poor hobbit woman was in desperate need of help and he was shaking too badly right now to render further aid till he had regained some mastery of his emotions.

 Unwanted

Sam and Rose, tousle-headed and sleepy-eyed yet filled with worry by the strange sound of Frodo’s voice hurried to answer his urgent call.

“Mr. Frodo.. What’s........ that?” Sam began, then faltered when he saw what looked like a dirty heap of rags on his nice clean hearth-rug.

“Sam!” Rose said, “It’s a hobbit-woman!”

Both Frodo and Sam glanced at each other. How could Rose tell that when upon first sight of Briar neither of them had been able to recognize what she was at all?

Rose looked at them in return and crossed her arms over her nightdress.

“Well, and what did you think she was? Poor creature!” Rose unhesitatingly went and knelt by Briar’s side.

“Rags.” Sam said.

“Hush, Sam! She may be able to hear you. Now at least go and get me some clean water and cloths so I can wash her face. And make tea and heat up the broth from supper. She is more than half-starved. Oh, you, poor, poor lass!” Then Rose looked up at Frodo who still stood immobile and pale. “Could she speak? Did she say what her name is?”

“Briar. Briar, she said.” his voice was still far off and strange.

“Frodo, are you all right? You look very pale.”

He continued to stare down at Briar with wide, midnight blue eyes.

“Frodo?” Rose asked again.

“Yes.” he said faintly.

Rose shook her head. He was not well at all. He hadn’t been since his return and was getting worse day by day.

“Did she say anything else?” she asked him.

“Some... strange things. She said..... she was mad.”

Sam came with a bowl of warm water and some soap and washcloths and set them down next to Rose who immediately proceeded to try and wash most of the grime from Briar’s face. She succeeded in only removing the surface layer of filth but just enough that Rose drew in her breath with a shock of recognition.

“Tis, Briar Blackwort. I haven’t seen her for years. Nor her people. They live way far down in the Southfarthing where things are very wild. Not many others down that way.”

“Good riddance to the Blackworts if they’re not about.” Sam added. “Worst bunch of vermin outside of Lotho and Ted I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing.”

“Sam!” Rose chided.

“Well. I’m not meaning Briar here. I never set eyes on her before nor knew she existed. How do you know her, Rose?”

“Oh, it’s so long ago, Sam..... But she would just wander into town from time to time and acting as odd as any hobbit I’ve ever known. She does say the strangest things, Frodo. Don’t let her worry you. I believe her poor mind has never been right. Father and Mother would always have her in for a meal and a wash-up. But then she would be fetched by those ruffian brothers of her’s and dragged away south again. I should have thought of her more. She must have needed help always and nobody gave it to her.”

“Because she is strange.” Frodo said sadly and because he, too, knew exactly what it was like to be viewed as a ‘strange hobbit‘. Hobbits were for the most part kind and jolly people but oddity was, at the least, felt to be impolite and at the worst was treated with contempt and abuse. Thank goodness for people like the Cottons and Gamgees who cared for all no matter how ‘cracked’ they might seem to be.

Frodo began to come back to himself somewhat and could move again. He knew more action needed to be taken to aid this lost and sickened woman who appeared to have been treated like refuse and tossed aside. He wondered what kind of people could treat one of their own with such neglect.

“Sam. She needs... a...bath and ..clothes and make up one of the warmest guestrooms where we can hear her if she needs help. We’ll give her the help she needs though others have cast her aside.”

“ Aye, Mr. Frodo. Right you are.” Sam said and immediately set about the task.

Rose looked up an smiled gladly at Frodo who was regaining color in his face. Were she and Sam the only one’s who worried over him as they did. Then another memory rekindled in her mind.

“Frodo. Do you know who Briar used to watch whenever she appeared in town? You. Like she knew something about you no one else did and she couldn’t take her eyes off of you.”

“I’m sorry to say I don’t recall ever seeing her before. And I should have if she has always been so in need of friends and assistance.”

“You’ve had enough troubles of your own over your life, Frodo, to notice every other single hobbit’s woes. Don’t blame yourself for not seeing her’s. She kept to herself and the shadows and few took note of her.”

“You and your family noticed and helped. I’m glad Sam has you with him, Rose. He’ll need you.”

Rose blushed at the praise but worried at what Frodo meant. He was always saying things like that. Why would Sam need her anymore than any other hobbit-husband needed his wife?

Briar moved restlessly on the hearthrug and again her eyes opened and first seeing Rose she began to look wildly about and only settled some when her eyes again caught hold of Frodo’s.

“There now,” Rose said. “You’re safe. It’s me Rosie who used to be Cotton but I’m now Rose Gamgee. Mr. Frodo is here and my Sam and we’ll look after you. Don’t be afraid.”

Briar seemed to hear Rose only faintly and her eyes remained fixed on Frodo.

Sam came in and announced the bath was full, hot and ready in the wash room.

“Come, Briar, dear.” Rose said kindly, trying to assist Briar to her feet. Briar resisted. “Now we only want to help you. We’re going to give you a nice hot bath and clean clothes and food and a warm place to sleep.”

But Briar would not let Rose move her and after a bit of a feeble struggle she reached out her begrimed hand to Frodo and her eyes pleaded with him.

“You.” Was all she managed to say and she sounded so pitiful that with only the slightest sigh Frodo bent and picked up her horribly light, ragged body and carried her towards the wash room.

He looked over to Rose and Sam who followed.

“I’ve experienced many things in my life and helping with this poor lasses’ bath will be far from the worst.”

 The Cleansing

Far from the worst? Frodo had spoken too soon. For Briar would not let go of his hand and tried desperately to fight off the ministrations of Rosie or Sam. And she did smell decidedly awful as could be expected of one who looked as if she had not been near bathwater for months or possibly years. So struggling with her, weak as she was, was not very pleasant and her long, jagged nails caught and scratched upon everything and everyone.

She also feared the water steaming in the bath. And when urged towards it she would screech and fight all the more.

“She’s worse than Gollum!” Sam complained after being nearly dunked in the bath himself. “we never had to try and bath that stinker. He at least got the worst dirt off by swimming for his fish.”

“Don’t compare her to Gollum, Sam. She’s nothing like him at all.’ Frodo said.

“No. I said she was worse!”

Frodo looked at his friend disapprovingly. And would have remonstrated with Sam further had not Briar clutched onto him fiercely in reaction to another of Rose’s attempts to get her clothing removed. They had been trying to get her into the bath for fifteen minutes and not succeeded in so much as getting a button undone.

“What are we going to do, Frodo?” Rose asked getting very tired of the struggle.

Frodo sighed with growing exasperation then getting a firm grip on Briar he turned her around to face him and as she again locked eyes with him but now Frodo did not cringe or look try to away. He put on his stern, no nonsense, Master of Bag End expression and right away Briar sensed that things were about to change.

“Now you trust me, don’t you Briar?” he said firmly.

She only stared back but there was a subtle alteration in what could be seen of her face.

“You trust me, Briar.” he repeated.

She slowly nodded her head.

“Now listen to me. No one here will hurt you. Only help you. I know you’ve taken a bath before because you used to take one at Rose’s home years ago. Remember? Look at Rose. Remember now?”

Slowly Briar turned her face and looked at Rose, studied her, then snapped her eyes back to Frodo. She nodded again.

“You didn’t mind taking a bath there, did you? Rose never hurt you nor her family.”

Briar said nothing but she seemed to understand because she looked almost wistful at the long forgotten memory of her respites at the Cotton’s.

“Now, Briar. It’s quite the same now, isn’t it? You very seriously need to get cleaned up. You will feel much better and so will we. Now I want you to let Rose help you undress and then get in the bath and let her help you get a good wash. I

want you to do it for me. Now will you?”

Briar almost looked tame for the first time since she had crawled in the front door. She nodded once more but then caught Frodo’s gaze again.

“But YOU stay!” she demanded.

Frodo looked ceiling-ward.

“All right. I won’t leave. I promise.”

“Mr. Frodo. That’s not really proper!” Sam shook his head at him indignantly.

“Proper or no, it’s what needs to be done. Right now Briar. No for fuss. into the bath with you.”

Rose resumed her efforts and this time Briar did not fight but simply stood there like a ragdoll while her pitiful rags were peeled off of her. What was underneath them was as filthy as they were.

“We ought to burn them, Mr. Frodo.” Sam said with disgust.

“Not, yet, Sam. Washed of course. But perhaps there is something amongst them that she would wish to keep. We kept our things that we wore in the Black Land and they were worse off than her poor clothes are now.”

And that was true. Both of them had kept the shreds of their ragged traveling garments folded neatly away in their cupboards and could not bear to part with them.

Sam sighed.

“It’s not really the same sort of thing.” he grumbled.

“How do you know what is important to her. The slightest thing can mean so much.”

“Aye, I suppose you’re right. Though I‘d much rather burn the things. They‘re crawling Mr. Frodo!”

“I’m sure our’s were as well, Sam. I don’t remember everything of the end of the Quest but I KNOW we were... as you say...crawling with unnamable things by the time the eagles rescued us.”

“Hmmnph!” Sam grumbled but he did agree that that must have been true.

Brair, finally disrobed, Rose got her into the tub and busied herself with applying copious amounts of soap and water with a very large sponge. And gradually...very gradually Briar’s pale skin began to show through the filth.

Next came dealing with her long, matted, dirt-encrusted hair. It had already been soaked through several times but no amount of soap seemed to do a sufficient job of removing all the kinds of debris entangled in it nor in disentangling the horrendous collection of knots.

“Sam, fetch that herbal concoction of mother’s that I use for my tangles.” she said.

“Aww, no, Rose! That’s your special treatment that makes you hair so lovely and smell so nice!”

“And it’s never been needed more than now, Samwise Gamgee!”

Again Sam shuffled of in displeasure to get it.

Once it was brought and applied Briar’s hair began to disentwine itself and responded to Rose’s gentle combing.

After about twenty more minutes in which Briar also reluctantly allowed them to trim her claw-like nails she stepped from the bath and Rose quickly wrapped her in a large clean towel dried her off and as discretely as possible, since Frodo stuck to his word and remained all the while, got Briar into one of Rose’s own clean nightdresses.

The change was remarkable. Though her long hair strands still partially hung over her thin cheeks Briar was revealed as a pretty though very worn out hobbit lass if one could over-look the scratches and bruises that marred nearly every inch of her. And her large dark eyes rivaled Frodo’s own blue ones as her most arresting feature.

Next Rose got her to drink a cup of sweet tea but Briar now seemed so sleepy that food would have to wait. Rose guided her to the guestroom and Briar without a struggle settled into the clean warm sheets and blankets. But when Frodo who had had to follow, of course, tried to bid her good night, she sat up suddenly.

“You! Stay!” she demanded.

“Oh, really?!” he replied. He’d rather expected something like this but had hoped it might not happen. But it had. “All right. I will sit here in this chair and YOU will stay there and GO TO SLEEP!” he asserted, brooking no argument.

He could have sworn there was a tiny smile on Briar’s lips as she nodded and then laid down and closed her eyes.

You Know

Frodo awoke from the little sleep he had finally gotten and as usual had to orient himself. Morning. I’m home. Bag End. Not my room. The guest room.

He remembered Briar and looked towards her bed. It was rumpled and empty. He glanced around then down and was brought up with a start. She was sitting at his feet staring up at him watching his face. This was beginning to get very unnerving.

“Briar? Why aren’t you in bed sleeping?”

“I slept. You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“Not real sleep.”

How long had she been watching him? She had seemed to be asleep most of the night. And the way she watched him was not at all the usual way a hobbit lass did. Briar wasn’t infatuated with him she was looking for something. Studying him. Intently searching him through...... for what?

“Why do you watch me, Briar?” he had to ask.

“You know.”

“I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”

Briar shook her head.

“No! You KNOW.”

“What do I know?”

She did not reply but continued to study his face.

“Can you explain what you mean?” he asked. Maybe he had to phrase things more precisely. Perhaps it was difficult for her to understand him.

“I can explain. I can talk. I’m not stupid!” she said indignantly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that you were. I just want to understand more about you. Why you came here. Why you watch me.”

“I always watched you.”

That’s what Rose had told him though he didn’t remember it.

“But why?”

“Because you know.” she said, as if he were stupid for not understanding.

“But WHAT do I know.”

She shook her head as if this only confirmed her last thought.

“You know about what is in here.” She pointed to her head. “And the things out there that people don’t see. WE see.”

“Briar, I don’t really... SEE things.” It wasn’t completely a lie. He HAD seen many strange things that others couldn’t see but not in the way Briar seemed to mean. And generally now he only still saw them in his nightmares or in his ever-present memories or when he got very ill.

“You DO! You see everything.”

“Hardly!”

“You DO. You see things and you see people.”

“Oh. Do you mean I try to understand people and how they feel?”

She looked as if this wasn’t really the right meaning at all.

“You just know. People. Things.”

He pondered this for a moment and began to grasp that she meant something like empathy. Yes he had always felt that for others. It wasn’t something he congratulated himself for having. It was what was only right.

Briar seemed to feel he was coming close to what she was trying to convey.

“But you do see things, too.”

Here they were back to that again!

He was rescued by Rose bringing in a breakfast tray with ample servings for both he and Briar.

“Here, now.” Rose said cheerily. “Are you both hungry?”

Frodo rarely felt any proper hobbit-hunger anymore and usually ate something just to please Rose and Sam. But Briar perked up and for once settled her eyes on something besides Frodo’s face. She attacked the hot scones, butter, sausages, eggs, tea, milk, clotted cream and fruit ravenously. She was starving. Frodo quickly grabbed a scone and tea before it could be consumed.

He actually did feel just a small twinge of hunger. Perhaps the difficulties with Briar had distracted him from his own troubles enough so that he could feel that sensation again.

“Easy now.” Rose admonished Briar. “Don’t gulp it all down at once and make yourself sick.”

Briar ignored her and went avidly on with her feast.

“There’s plenty more where that came from.” Frodo assured her. “You won’t go hungry here.”

“I.... can......... stay?” Briar managed to say between mouthfuls.

“Yes. Well, we’ll never put you out with nowhere to go.”

“Don’t...... put me.... out!”

“No, no. Don’t worry. I’d never do that.”

“Never?”

What HAD he gotten himself into?

“You will be safe here as long as you need to be.” he assured her.

That seemed to be enough for Briar and she resumed her meal heartily.

Frodo looked up at Rose and his expression was clear enough for anyone else to read.

It said.....What are we going to do now?

Orphans

Briar proved to be more cooperative that day as far as allowing herself to be clothed in an extra dress of Rose’s and letting Rose groom her mass of black curls into some semblance of order, tying it back with a bright green ribbon that matched the color of the dress and was really very flattering to Briar’s complexion.

Frodo was quite impressed that the lass who had emerged from beneath all that dirt and grime was so fine looking. Her eyes which had seemed black in the night were revealed to be deep emerald in color which nicely set off her olive toned skin with it’s crimson highlights on cheeks and lips. She was a remarkably beautiful hobbit-woman. Why had she been left to become the ragged creature who had come unbidden to his, a stranger’s, door? She came from the South farthing and that area had grown very wild under Saruman’s and his ruffian’s control and all manner of villains and blackguards had run rampant there until they had been cleaned out by Merry and Pippin and their troops of resolute hobbits. What had happened to Briar’s family, her brothers? Would they come hunting for her as they used to? Would Briar want them to find her considering her dreadful state of neglect and possible abuse which could easily have been inflicted upon her by them.

Since Briar would not leave off following him wherever he went he decided to try and find out.

The day was fine with a high clear blue sky. Everything in Sam’s garden was blooming and growing as if it could not contain the joy that filled the air and soil since Sauron’s fall. The fresh breeze carried the many scents of the blossoms and green richness abounding with life. Life that filled everything, and everyone but Frodo to over-flowing. He saw it but he just could not feel things the way he had before.

Like Briar. In the past he would have been quite attracted to her loveliness. Her oddity might have even added to the attraction. Now, though he felt that deep empathy for her and concern to set things right for her, and even a wish to befriend her, to make her feel cared for as any hobbit should be, anything else was beyond him.

He picked a large deep-red rose and making sure there were no thorns on it’s stem tucked it into her hair and smiled.

“It suits you, perfectly.” he said.

Immediately tears pricked into her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.

“What is it?” Frodo asked kindly, “Has no one ever given you so simple a thing as a flower before?”

She shook her head.

“Briar. Sit here in the shade with me and tell me what has happened?”

He guided her to a quiet bench in the shade of a tall kindly oak surrounded by colorful daisies and sunflowers that danced lightly on the air.

“Briar. What has become of your family? Is there anyone we should tell of your whereabouts?”

“No! Tell no one!” She cried. Then she shook her head as if her thoughts were muddled. “They are all gone. But if they were still there I wouldn’t want you to tell them I was here. They are gone and I am glad!”

“What happened to you, Briar? Tell me about your life.”

“Life. No life. Never loved, never wanted. I see these things no one sees. I hear things no one hears. Mad... Briar you are mad! Go away! Stay away! Get out of sight! That’s what they all told me.”

“Your parents did this?”

“Yes, yes! Them. My brothers. Everyone! I would get so.... so....” She began to shake and tears fell in steady streams from her angry, pain-filled eyes. “ I would get ...crazy. Tear things, throw things, smash everything! Then they would lock me up in the shed. I would get out and they would make the locks stronger. They would tie me there. Beat me. Always in the shed. Always... Beaten...tied up... “ She looked up at Frodo and he was not there.

He was there physically but her words had taken him back to Mordor, Cirith Ungol, orcs whips and chains and worse.......

“You know...” She said those words again and they called him back and he looked at her from far, far away.

“Yes.”

Briar took the rose from her hair and placed it in his hands.

“We’re not there now, are we? Those places?”

“No.” And as too often happened these days there were tears on Frodo’s cheeks as well. “We’re not in those places, now.”

“But we know.”

“We do.”

“I would like not to know, anymore.”

“So would I. I wish I could forget.”

“We can’t.”

“Perhaps you can. Things can get better for you, Briar. I doubt they can for me.”

“No. Not for you. Sad. So sad.” She put her hand on his cheek. She was the one person who knew this was true. The only one who really knew.

Good Intentions......

Briar had been in Bag End for a month and had settled into something of a routine. She had learned to trust Rosie and Sam and as long as Frodo was home she could let him out of her sight for awhile. Yet she remained ever watchful of him. If he left she often tried to follow and sometimes he let her tag along but eventually he had to make it clear to her that there were times when he really needed to be alone. At those times Briar was fretful and spent most of her time flitting from window to window searching for Frodo’s return and no effort of Rose or Sam to distract her with some small task was successful in calming her. Briar seemed to fear for him greatly, as if he were far more fragile than anyone else supposed.

When Frodo would return she would search his face and if he showed any signs of disquiet she would again refuse to leave him till he was feeling better. An better according to HER satisfaction. He could not fool her into thinking he was better with a false smile or cheery word. Not till he was fully occupied at his writing desk or otherwise settled and she knew he really was all right for the time being would she lessen her vigilant watch.

There had been few visitors till now. But in the first week of September there was a friendly knocking on the front door. Briar knew it was friendly so since she was nearby she opened it and there stood Merry and Pippin who, expecting either Frodo or Sam and seeing neither but being greeted by a totally strange lass, stood with their mouths open in the midst of their hellos.

Briar just stood there and said nothing surveying the two now tall hobbits who still took to walking about the Shire in their Rohan and Minas Tirith garb. They were a splendid sight and they quite knew it.

“Umnn... Hello?” Merry said.

“Hello.” Briar replied.

“And who are you?” Pippin asked smiling at her. She WAS a very pretty lass.

“Briar.”

“Oh.” Merry replied. But Briar still stood there not moving. “It’s Briar, Pip.”

“Yes. Hello, Briar. I’m Pippin and this is my cousin Merry. Frodo is our cousin, as well. Is he about?”

Briar nodded.

“We’ve come to visit him. May we come in?”

Briar nodded again but did not step aside.

Pippin put on his perplexed but friendly smile and nodded back at her. Merry crossed his arms and frowned slightly. They had dealt with many things in their adventures but an uncommunicative hobbit-lass was a new experience. And what was more she seemed to actually be immune to their charm.

So the two of them stood there awhile rocking backwards and forwards and smiling at Briar and then at each other and becoming more and more at a loss as to what to say or do.

At last Sam strolled by and discovered them all.

“Mr. Merry and Pippin. Briar, how long have you kept them standing there?”

Briar looked at him innocently.

“Now step aside and let Mr. Frodo’s cousins in.”

Briar at last did so.

“Oh dear, come in, lads. Sorry about this.”

“Who is she.” Merry whispered into Sam’s ear trying not to appear rude to the strange young woman.

“Well, I expect you could call her something of a project.”

“Project?”

“Yes. It’s something of a long story but we’re all looking after her.”

“Oh, I see.” Merry added, not really seeing at all.

Pippin slowly followed but could not pull himself away from smiling at Briar who watched him closely. He was so naturally friendly and open that he wanted to somehow get to know this peculiar lass. But how?

He smiled at her hopefully and was looking as innocent as the day he was born.

“You be good!” Briar told him sternly.

Pippin was very taken aback.

“I assure you, I have every intention of being good.”

Briar scrunched up her face eyeing him warily then came up and stood almost nose to nose with him. Obviously she doubted his word.

“Be good!” She demanded again.

“I.. I....will. I promise!” Pippin stammered, backing away as Briar advanced.

Pippin finally just decided to dart away as quickly as he could.

“Merry, Merry...!” Pippin said breathlessly as he caught up with his cousin. “That girl.....is... she said..... Merry, she is very strange.”

“Umnnnnn....” Merry said sounding sage. But he too glanced back at Briar who was watching them and looking rather fierce.

They found Frodo busy at his desk in the study.

“Hullo, Frodo!” They both said brightly.

Frodo turned around and putting on a smile greeted them as gladly as he could. He had been far away in his thoughts and even his beloved and jovial cousins could not quite reach the place where he had been. Then he saw Pippin glancing nervously towards the hall.

“I see you’ve met Briar.” Frodo said. “Don’t let her frighten you, Pippin. She’s really harmless.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, Frodo...” Pippin replied.

Now Frodo’s smile was genuine. Poor Pip was completely non-plussed by whatever Briar had said or done.

“Who IS she, Frodo?” Merry asked. Sam had not followed wanting to let the cousins visit without his interference.

“Oh, that’s difficult to say.”

“She’s very strange.” Pippin repeated, still looking warily over his shoulder.

“She isn’t so bad once you get used to her. Really. She just turned up one night very much in need of help and we are letting her stay here for the time being.” Frodo explained.

“But what’s wrong with her?” Pippin persisted.

“Pippin, that’s really very rude.” Merry told him. Then he sidled over to Frodo and asked the same question.

“She’s just a little different from most. That’s all.” Frodo said. “Be kind to her. She’s had a very hard life.”

“Now, we are always kind, aren’t we, Pip?”

“Oh, yes! Flawlessly kind!” Pippin agreed.

“Now then what are you two up to?” Frodo asked.

“Up to? Well now, apart from cleaning up the Shire and making sure all the ruffians have been scoured away and putting everything in order we haven’t been doing anything, at all.” Merry said flopping himself in Frodo’s easy chair.

“No we haven’t been busy at all.” Pippin said.

“I meant... What are you up to...here.” Frodo said distinctly. Their eyes were sparkling far too much and that meant they had something up their sleeves and this usually involved getting Frodo into some kind of adventure or mischief and he was feeling far from wanting either.

“We’ve missed seeing you about, Frodo.“ Merry said. “We thought apart from just having the pleasure of our company you might fancy a little fun.”

“It certainly is a pleasure to have your company. But I have no need for fun at the moment.”

“Frodo! Really you always used to be up for a bit of fun.”

“I USED to. Things are a bit different now.”

“Yes. I understand that, Frodo. Things are different for us all. But you should get out more. Enjoy life again. Goodness knows you deserve it.”

“Come on, Frodo. We’re only here for the Harvest Festival. There’s been such a bounty this year that we’ve got to do something with it all. And between all the Farthings we’ve put together a big feast and music and well.. a party to almost put Bilbo’s to shame.” Pippin said trying to sound as encouraging as possible.

“Really?” Frodo said trying to sound a little bit excited about it. “When is it?”

“You really haven’t heard?! Oh, Frodo! Haven’t Sam and Rosie said anything?” Merry asked, astonished.

“We’ve been keeping to ourselves here. We haven’t needed much from town and haven’t heard much from it either.”

“Now that’s the problem, Frodo! You stay in so much you don’t even know about the biggest festival in the history of the Shire!”

“Come on, Frodo! You must go. It wouldn’t be the same without you.” Pippin said, begging.

“Oh, I don’t know, Pippin. Most seem quite pleased to go without me.”

“Not us!”

“Of course, not us!” Merry went on. “You have to come tonight. TRY and enjoy yourself.”

Frodo knew that they would never stop pestering him unless he agreed to go.

“All right! Yes. Perhaps you’re right.” He smiled and they again believed it was a sign of genuine happiness.

.......Gone Astray

Once the Gamgees were informed of the Festival Bag End was bustling with preparations to attend. Rose, with amazing ingenuity, made several huge pies to contribute to the festivities and Sam rolled two big barrels of the gaffer’s home-brew onto his wagon along with many sundry roots and vegetables and huge bouquets of flowers from the garden.

Briar, though, was very nervous about going but since she realized Frodo had been persuaded to go she made an effort to dress herself up and needed Rose to offer guidance as to the proper placement of extra ribbons and bows in her hair and the best dress to wear and which bodice. Rose had kindly given her many of her older dresses since Rose was now expecting the first Gamgee baby and none of her former gowns fit her newly rounded shape. Briar ended up in a pretty dark pink print with pale sage bodice and this suited her dark coloring even more than the green.

Still Briar could not keep herself still for nervousness.

Frodo felt just as uncomfortable about going. He wasn’t nervous he just didn’t want to be in a crowd of jolly and probably raucous hobbits since he felt so unequal to matching their mood. But he, too, dressed in his finest black velvet breaches and most beautifully embroidered vest over a crisply clean, white linen shirt. He looked far better than he felt.

Yet Merry and Pippin and the excited Gamgees bundled Frodo and Briar into the wagon and rolled off to Bywater just as dusk was setting in.

This party did outdo Bilbo’s in many ways. There were many more tents and stalls set up with lots of goods being offered for sale by the over-abundantly supplied hobbits from all four directions of the Shire and in the middle of everything where the old party tree had stood and the new, quickly growing sapling was carefully fenced off from trampling feet, was the large tent full of tables already being laid out with so much food and drink that they looked ready to buckle under the weight. And what seemed to be every hobbit of the Shire merrily milling about shouting greetings and clapping one another on the back and exchanging hugs and more than a few were already rather over-filled with good rich ale and were weaving through the crowds tipsily but quite happily.

Though Frodo felt the stares of many who now only viewed him as ‘that strange mad-Baggins’ there were also many who were very happy to see him. The longest of the tables in the Feast Tent were filled with what looked to be a hundred or more Brandybucks and Tooks all his relations in some way or another as well as the addition of the Bolgers who by and large quite liked Frodo. Fatty was fat again and hugged Frodo enthusiastically. Then all the Brandybucks and Tooks had to close round him and greet him with whole-hearted gladness.

It was nice to feel loved and appreciated by these good hobbits but somehow Frodo just began to feel rather suffocated and had to beg for a large ale and a seat. He soon found himself supplied with about ten ales and twelve seats. These he divided up amongst his own party and as Briar shyly and with many a jitter took her seat next to him she was noticed for the first time.

“Now who’s this pretty lass?!” Old Saradoc Brandybuck asked jovially. And there were many exchanged glances and smiles and whispers that this must be a new flame of Frodo’s . ‘And a good thing and about time too!’ being added to their comments.

“Now, please, please...... This is Briar and she is simply a guest of the Gamgees and myself at Bag End.” Frodo had to raise his voice to explain. “She is a friend of us all and we are helping her through a rough patch and I would greatly appreciate it if you would all treat her gently as she has not been well.”

Many murmurs of ‘Oh, yes. All right. Of course we will!’ ensued and at least as far as Frodo’s friends went that is what was done.

Unfortunately not all viewed Frodo with a friendly eye and never had. And despite all the efforts of Sam and Frodo’s many relations to correct their understanding of Frodo and what he had done for them on his ‘adventure’ most of these refused to change their opinion.

Ted Sandyman and his pals, not in the least chastened by having all their crooked schemes shattered by the return of the travelers nor the ‘correction’ they received in the Scouring but rather more surly and rebellious than ever had already been eying Frodo and company and looking for some way to cause trouble. They were vastly outnumbered but that had never made them pause and think before nor did it now. So they kept to the fringes of the crowd and waited for anything to take advantage of to start something.

After a goodly portion of the feast had been consumed and much ale had been swallowed by most Pippin felt emboldened... indeed it did not, nor had it ever, taken much to embolden Pippin..... to stand up on his chair swaying somewhat but maintaining his balance.

Briar grasped Frodo’s arm.

“No! Don’t let him!” She begged.

“Why, Briar?”

“Stop him!” Her eyes were wide with apprehension. “He’ll hurt you.”

“Pippin! No, no. He would never hurt me! And I hardly see what I can do to stop whatever he’s about to do.”

“No, no.... He is NOT being good.”

Frodo smiled. Pippin might be still something of a ‘Fool of a Took’ but he was really a very good hobbit and a most loyal and loving cousin.

Pippin cleared his throat loudly, and eyes began to turn in his direction.

“Thank you! It has been a very good year!”

Cheers from all.

“I and my cousin Meriodic Brandybuck... or as I know he has been called... Merry the Magnificent, as well as the most excellent Master Samwise Gamgee have been quite busy since our return in seeing that the Shire has been restored to it’s former glory.”

More cheers and “here, heres!”

“And it HAS!”

Huzzahs!

“But not without the help of one and all in the clean up work. So many thanks to you all!”

Massive cheering.

“But it is high time that honor be given where it is most due!’

A sudden chill ran up Frodo’s spine. No, Pippin don’t.

“One thing has saddened Merry, Sam and myself. And that is that many of you seem unaware of the incredible courage and sacrifice of the cousin of whom I am most proud. Indeed we and all peoples of Middle Earth owe our freedom and our very lives to him.”

No, Pippin, no.

“If it were not for his efforts we and perhaps none of us would now be here to celebrate this year of bounty. This Festival is in his honor. I give you... mine and Merry’s most illustrious and heroic cousin .....Frodo Baggins!”

The tables of the Brandybucks and Tooks and Cottons a good part of the Bolgers erupted in vigorous clapping and shouts of Frodo! Frodo!!!! Many others joined in but those to whom Frodo had always seemed strange and unusually withdrawn and far to elvish for their tastes only clapped perfunctorily or not at all.

And Ted who was now joined by a few disgruntled Bracegirdles and sundry ill-favored-looking hobbits scowled and spat at the ground and grumbled amongst themselves.

“Frodo? Won’t you say something to the good people of the Shire?” Pippin said looking down at his cousin.

“Speech! Speech!” Frodo’s friends and relations cheered.

No, Pippin, no.

Frodo had gone very pale and his hands shook, especially his right that was missing his ring-finger. He did not want to stand, or make a speech. He wanted to disappear as Bilbo had. But that would require the Ring. And that was gone forever. Gone with part of himself.

“Frodo?” Pippin looked at him wonderingly.

Frodo slowly stood up and only Briar saw how he trembled.

Everyone was looking at him expecting something of him... What? What did they want?

“I...... I ...... Thank you, Pippin. You are TOO kind. Too kind.” He began in a soft wavering voice that not all could hear.

“Speak up, Frodo!” Someone shouted.

“I am glad that in some small way I was able to help. But I... I am not worthy of this honor.”

Loud disagreement from family and friends.

“I am not worthy. I did not know about this event or what my cousins had planned. They contributed greatly to the success of our... our... endeavors while we were away. I did...... I did...not........ not do all that I wished. I tried... I tried... but... Sam..” Here he found he could no longer stand and fell back into his chair.

Sam was instantly at his side and Briar clung to his arm and she was crying.

“Mr. Frodo. What’s wrong?” Sam asked very worried. “Everyone only wants to thank you for what you did.”

“No, Sam. I can’t do this. I can’t.”

Ted and his pals were pushing their way through the crowd.

“All Baggins ever did was come stamping back in here and lording it all over us who were finally getting on our feet. He tore down my new mill and put me clean out of business. And others too.” Ted’s near-do-well cronies shouted rudely in agreement.

“Shut up, Ted! You idiot.” Mr. Cotton boomed. “You got just what you deserved! You sided with Sharkey and the ruffians and stole from your fellow hobbits!”

“Sharkey was finally making something outta this backwater! We were going to be rich! Baggins and his family robbed us! That’s what they did! Robbed us!”

“You should have been put in the lockholes, Sandyman! But Frodo let you go free. He treated you with mercy.”

“I never asked for no mercy from no Baggins. Never wanted any!” Ted spat.

Most of the Brandybucks and Tooks were now on their feet.

Merry, who had had quite enough of Ted’s disrespectful rubbish stepped forward. He was now quite tall by hobbit standards and was wearing his Rohan esquire’s clothing and for dash more than necessity his sword what hanging in it’s scabbard about his waist. As was Pippin’s, who was in his Gondorian raiment as well. Pippin got down from the chair and stood alongside Merry. Both placed their hands on their sword hilts. They towered over Ted.

“That’s just about enough out of you, Sandyman!” Merry commanded. “I would advise you to take back your foolish words now.”

Frodo came to Merry’s side.

“Let this just stop now, Merry. Before things go too far.”

“Aye!” Ted bellowed. “Baggins got no guts and never did have! Afraid of a fight, Frodo?!”

As fatigued by his troubles of heart and mind as he was, Frodo was not beyond his old inability to suffer fools gladly. Especially Ted Sandyman. His strength flooded back into him and he got to his feet.

Frodo came and stood close in front of Ted and his hands were clenched at his sides.

“You know nothing of fear.” Frodo told him with fire and deathly cold in his voice and a fierceness in his eyes no one in the Shire had ever seen in them before. “Have you looked into the very eye of evil? Have you felt it try to rend you apart shred by shred? Have you faced bands of orcs who care nothing for anyone and delight in tortures even you cannot conceive of? Have you ever fallen into their hands and suffered those things? Have you crawled to the very edge of fires from the deepest parts of the earth so hot they seared the flesh from your body. Have you felt the ground fall away from beneath you as it tried to cast you into those fires while all the world collapses around you? Have you, Ted?”

Frodo stood there holding Ted in his gaze and Ted found that he could not move or look away. This was not the Frodo Baggins who had left the Shire a year and a half ago. This was someone...something.. Ted had never encountered before and something far beyond his meager powers of comprehension. Their was a power inside Frodo’s deceptively frail exterior and mild retiring manner. It was a reflection of his power as a ringbearer or, rather, a Ring Master. Though the Ring was gone Frodo still knew what that power felt like. It was still a part of him and he could still call on it when it was needed.

Ted had never felt anything like this in his life and he quailed.

“Frodo... You... you be...mad.” Ted said, but his voice shook and took all the sting out of his words and he was reduced to the pitiful, ignorant bully he was. He backed away from the fiery depths that lit Frodo’s eyes. Backed away, stumbled and ran.

Merry clapped Frodo on the back and was ready to practically hoist him up onto his shoulders for a celebratory march through the crowd of hobbits who were cheering the humiliation of Sandyman. Though they had not heard all of Frodo’s words, they, too, had felt his power.

Merry stopped when he saw the fires die out of Frodo’s eyes and the imploring look that replaced them.

“Enough, Merry.” Frodo said and turned away.

Briar who had stood by all the while with tears coursing down her cheeks now turned her anger on Pippin.

“You were NOT good!”

Poor Pippin’s face fell and he looked as if he was also about to burst into tears.

“I never meant... I didn’t mean to .......” he stammered. “Merry, where did we go wrong?”

“We went wrong, Pip, in not really understanding what Frodo has been through. We thought we knew but we didn’t.”

Sam and Rosie joined Frodo and Briar who were leaving the party field through the mob of abashed hobbits who really didn’t understand why they felt so bad. But they did.

Near the edge of the crowd Briar halted suddenly and stood frozen with a new fear and her grip on Frodo’s arm was like a vise.

“What is it, Briar?” Frodo asked. “We are going home, now.”

Her eyes were upon a swarthy southern hobbit who was moving towards them menacingly.

“My...brother. I thought they were all dead.” She said. “Don’t let him take me back. Oh, please don’t let him take me!”

“Hey, you!” her brother called roughly. “You got my sister! What yer been doin’ with her! I’ll have your hide! And then I’ll have my sister!”

“No, Toady, no!” Briar cried. “I won’t go with you!”

“You will!” Toady made a grab for her but found Frodo in between them with Sam on his right and Merry and Pippin, swords drawn, on his left. The fire rekindled in Frodo’s eyes.

“You have chosen an ill time to cross me and my friends.” Frodo said with the same chilling tone that had withered Ted Sandyman. “You will NOT take Briar back to that awful life you made her suffer through. You will NEVER come near her or my home or anyone dear to me again! Now go!”

Toady looked like he had been hit on his thick noggin with an anvil. His mouth gaped open and he stood motionless as Frodo and his party moved away up the hill back towards Bag End. They never saw him again, much to Briar’s immense relief.

Loss and Belonging

After the confrontation between Frodo and Ted things settled into a quiet routine at Bag End. Preparations began for the arrival of Sam’s and Rose’s babe and Briar showed an aptitude for sewing and needlework and seemed calmed by the pleasant task of making many items that the hobbitling would need.

Frodo found that on the rare occasions that he went into Hobbiton or Bywater people now treated him with more respect. There were many greetings and tips of the hat to ‘Master Frodo’ and some even began calling him Squire.

But even this polite recognition made him uncomfortable. He supposed he should feel better about being called Squire rather than Mad Baggins but he didn’t. So he continued to keep to himself as much as possible. He worked nearly all day everyday on his account of the quest and went out for walks only at night, if at all possible.

As October drew on he felt increasingly ill at ease. His memories of things he wished to forget persisted and grew more vivid. And he would instinctively search for the Ring and find instead Arwen’s jewel on it’s chain about his neck. It eased his disquiet but did not rid him of it.

On the sixth of October Frodo struggled awake out of an abyss of dark dreams and found waking was worse. His left shoulder felt colder than ice and the wound from the Wraith King’s knife burned and froze so painfully he nearly cried out. But he stifled his cry with his right hand. He could not lift his left at all.

He did not want to bother Sam and Rose with his suffering but he could not hide it from Briar.

Almost an instant after he felt the excruciating stabbing of ice and heat through his shoulder Briar was there in his room. She hurried to him and placed her hand upon his sweat-soaked brow and he looked up into her dark empathetic eyes.

“It hurts awfully, Briar.” he said in weak gasps.

“I know.” she said. “I will help you.”

She turned to go and fetch things she needed to help ease Frodo’s pain.

“Don’t tell... Sam..... or Rose.” Frodo begged her.

Briar nodded and left the room. She quickly returned with a tray full of comforting teas and broth, as well as a bowl of warm water and a collection of herbs. He recognized athelas among them.

“How do you know about kingsfoil?” he managed to ask her.

“I know about all these. But once Sam told me how the good King used this to heal you when you came out of the land of fire and darkness.”

She quickly mixed the athelas in the warm water and soaked a clean cloth in the brew. She wrang it out and gently applied it to Frodo’s frozen shoulder. The improvement was almost instantaneous as the warmth of the compress drove much of the icey chill from his wound. In a few moments the pain had subsided to an endurable throbbing.

“Thank you, Briar.” he said.

“You must eat some of this and drink. The tea is of special herbs, too. They will help.”

And he listened to her and did as she said. In that way he got through that terrible day without Sam noticing much until a brief episode in the evening when Briar was out of the room to gather more herbs from the garden.

Sam came in and noticed Frodo looking pale and strange, his eyes seeing things far, far away.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Frodo?” Sam asked.

“I am wounded.” Frodo said, “Wounded; it will never really heal.”

Then Frodo realized this was Sam and he did not want Sam to know how bad he had been feeling that day. He forced himself to look brighter and attempted a smile. He got up from his desk where he had struggled to write through his pain and mental confusion.

“I’m all right, Sam. It was just a bad turn.”

“Are you sure, Mr. Frodo?”

“Yes, Sam. Now go back to Rose.”

Sam reluctantly left Frodo then. And it was through the continued ministrations of Briar till the next morning that Frodo slowly returned to himself and the pain faded in his shoulder and side.

********************************************************

Thankfully that winter was a gentle one with soft snowfalls that blanketed the Shire and made all the hobbits feel safe and warm in their smials. And the peaceful cozy days passed with a bitter-sweetness for Frodo because in some way he sensed this would be his last winter in the land he so loved.

Briar seemed to have filled a nitch in Bag End that seemed as if it had always been awaiting her. She was something like a sister to them all, a housekeeper, a ready and willing worker, a healer and a friend whose strangeness no longer mattered but rather endeared her to this somewhat peculiar but kindliest of hobbit families.

March came with early hints of spring on the air. But again on the anniversary of Shelob’s attack Frodo was very ill once again. And again with Briar’s aid kept it from the Gamgees who were expecting the babe’s arrival at any time.

When little Elanor was born at the end of the month no one was happier for Sam and Rose than Frodo. And for a time just basking in their radiant joy nearly made him forget his own troubles.

Elanor seemed to instantly adore Uncle Frodo and loved for him to cuddle her and chat with her, not in baby talk but as if she were fully able to understand him. He would carry her about and show her bright objects that filled Bag End and told her stories and it was usually with reluctance that Frodo handed the darling child back to her doting parents.

“Ah, Rosie,” Sam said one evening after Frodo had gone into his room, as he sat with an arm around Rose’s shoulder and Elanor slept cradled between them. “Frodo should find a good lass of his own and have many such babes of his own to love.”

“I wish that for him more than anything, Sam.” Rose replied as she placed a gentle kiss on the babe’s soft golden hair and then on Sam’s lips.

“No.” Briar spoke from her chair near the hearth. “Not those things. Not for him. Not anymore.”

“What do you mean, Briar?” Sam said indignantly. Why shouldn’t Frodo experience this kind of joy?

“He can’t. Not now.”

“ ‘Course he can.”

But Briar just shook her head and looked down at her mending and would not say anymore.

The Gamgees just chalked this up to Briar’s strangeness and let it go.

Everything continued quite well till Elanor was three months old and then suddenly she came down with a case of colic that made the normally happy babe cry piteously for hours. Her tummy was hard and not even Uncle Frodo could soothe her.

The crying went on and on till Sam, Rose and Frodo were beside themselves with worry and panic fearing the worst for little Elanor.

Frodo was about to go for the healer when Briar came in from the fields with a small basket over her arm in which she had been gathering herbs different from those she grew in the garden.

“Wait.” she told them.

She quickly mixed a small amount of each herb with a little sugar and warm water. Then she reached for Elanor.

Sam and Rose looked at each other with some trepidation. They now trusted Briar with many things but till now they rarely let her hold Elanor.

“Let her.” Frodo told them. “She will help.”

The assurance in his tone allayed some of their fears and they cautiously handed the exhausted but still crying baby to Briar.

Briar competently held her and whispered to her as she applied a tiny amount of the paste of sweet herbs to Elanor’s lips. Almost immediately after licking a bit of the mixture Elanor quieted. A few moments later the tiny thing emitted a surprisingly huge burp which in spite of all their anxiety made everyone laugh.

Then Elanor went right to sleep and slept peacefully through the night.

Dwelling Places

By mid-summer Briar had been at Bag end for a full year. She fell into the role of Elanor’s nurse quite naturally and the Gamgees were grateful to have one with her natural skills there, especially since they fully intended to supply young Elanor with many brothers and sisters.

There was, of course, some talk about Briar and Frodo amongst their neighbors but few really understood their relationship. That it was one of the kinship of two broken hearts and minds was beyond the grasp of the average happily mundane hobbit, whose idea of suffering generally consisted of being somehow forced to miss tea time. And though they had had a few difficult months under Sharkey’s regime they had merrily let all that slip their minds as only hobbits can.

So the idea that ‘something was going on’ between Frodo and Briar grew and persisted and was a frequent topic of interest at the Ivy Bush and Green Dragon. and rarely an evening passed without it being brought up.

“Not natural living that way, under one roof, the two of ‘em!” one old timer said to the Gaffer.

“You don’t know nought of what your speakin’.” the Gaffer told him. “And Bag End is a mighty big roof with lots of room to spare for dozens of hobbits. So stop yappin’ about it.”

“Now, there’s no reason to be getting uppity! It’s not like everyone doesn’t wonder about ‘em. Of course we know Frodo did something that we’re supposed to be proud of, though to my mind, I don’t understand all this talk of Rings and such. Nor why HE was so special as to have to do this great deed of his. And now he’s more cracked than ever. Though I suppose I respect him, some, cracked or no.”

“Aye! Respect him you should! And you know neither me nor my Sam will put up with his being shown anything less! Nor will Mr. Meriodic nor Mr. Perigrine. And if Mr. Gandalf comes round you should really watch what comes outta your ignorant mouth as he’ll wipe it off of your ugly face quicker ‘n one of his explosions would. He sets a right high store by Mr. Frodo, he does.”

“I’m not afraid of that old conjurer.”

“Now would you say that to his face, I wonder. Gandalf’s not just an old conjurer. He be one of the mighty and the fair and you should know better than to speak like such an ignorant ninnyhammer.”

“All right,Gaffer! Enough of this talk of that whole mad Baggins household.”

“Ah, yer not worth talkin’ too.” the Gaffer said with disgust, thumped his mug down on the table, got creekily to his feet and left the Ivy Bush.

The old hobbit at the table looked round for support from the pub’s other occupants. The old-timers nodded in agreement while many of the younger ones who knew a bit more about all that had happened shook their heads at the ignorance of their elders.

The younger hobbits were glad that now, at least, no one insulted Frodo to his face and the knowledge that he had done ‘something’ caused him to be held in something akin to a sense of awe.

Now, though they felt he was somehow special and ’above’ them, they really didn’t know how to treat him anymore. So they treated him with distance.

*******************************************************

Frodo didn’t mind the sense of isolation. He welcomed it. For no one but Sam and Briar really understood why he was now so ‘different’. Though their individual understanding came, on the one hand, from personal knowledge and shared anguish, and on the other, by an innate and deeply felt sense of empathy.Briar could never explain how she sensed his pain. But she had always seen it. Even before he left on his quest he had been a strangely isolated hobbit though he had been far happier in his earlier years. She had seen that isolation in those days and saw in him something of what she had always felt herself. They were both strangers in a world that never fully understood them and made little effort to try.

Rather than try to know them people talked and imagined and preferred their imaginings to the truth.

One thing that was rarely grasped was that Frodo was almost too good for the world he lived in. He should have been born over the sea in the lands of the West. It could have been that touch of elvish blood that had somehow crept into the Baggins family line that made him that way. Whatever it was Frodo was now a hobbit apart from the rest.

Briar was also. But she was not ‘elvish’ , only a person lost in the world of her own mind. The world of her mind overlapped with the real one but never fully meshed and she had always been adrift between the two. She could function in the real one but her inner place was with her at all times. It had scared her most of her life. But the year of relative tranquility at Bag End had helped her to accept it and with the loss of fear came a greater ability to be ‘just be.’ Just be Briar.

So while the commonplace hobbits talked and made up silly things about them Frodo and Briar became almost constant companions. Friends with a bond only they could comprehend. They walked about the Shire and talked or didn’t talk and just let the sense of knowing one another take some of their pains away.

And in that knowing was the ineffable feeling that soon one of them would be leaving Middle Earth, never to return.

 *******************************************

After dinner one evening in late August the Gamgees, Frodo and Briar lingered around the table. No one spoke of it by everyone but baby Elanor felt a hint of sadness in the warm evening air. Sam got up and stretched.

“I’ll help you clean up, Rosie. Then what say you and I take a stroll together. The babe seems quite happy where she is and if Frodo and Briar don’t mind I’d like a bit of time alone with my Rose.”

“Go on, Sam.” Frodo said with a smile. “Elanor will be fine with us.”

Elanor who was now 5 months old and quite precocious for her age was sitting on Frodo’s lap playing with Arwen’s jewel that hung about his neck. She barely noticed her parents leaving the room and cooed to herself trying to form words. That she was trying to speak at such a young age was not uncommon amongst the recent batch of hobbitlings born in the past year. All were exceptionally beautiful, golden-haired, bright eyed, sharp-witted little creatures. And of all of them Elanor was the fairest and brightest.

She had been working on a word for several minutes when she turned her luminous emerald green gaze already surrounded by a halo of shimmering blonde curls up to meet Frodo’s own fond brillant blue eyes.

She was concentrating on her word.

“She’s going to say something.” Briar observed knowingly.

“Yes, I believe she is.” Frodo said as he got up and carried Elanor to the window to catch a glimpse of the last rays of the setting sun.

Briar looked up and seeing them sillouetted against the glowing amber light spilling through the round window she smiled. But at the edges of her eyes was the faint glint of tears. She was so sad somehow but the sadness was mixed with some settled feeling of things trying to turn for the better. Things were going to be better for Frodo but with that there would also be great loss for herself and all that loved him.

He was going to leave them. He hadn’t said so. Not really. But he was always looking off toward the West, toward the Sea. He had told her the elves were going into the West never to return and he had said it with a wistful sense of longing.

If he went he would become well and whole and not feel the pain anymore. He could at last be happy as he had never been and now could never hope to be on this the Eastern Shore. Mordor had taken any chance of that from him. Nothing here.. no love... no care from those who loved him ...no magic of Gandalf’s... nor the power of the Great King could cure him.

He had to leave or he would wither away from the hurts that could never be mended. He would shrink away from them into himself and the darkness that always threatened to overwhelm his mind. He would become lost within his own world of sorrow and nightmare and be lost to them in that hopeless place and eventually, miserably, in an agony he could never express, if he remained here, he would die.

But for this moment there was still light and the sound of a sweet hobbit child murmuring something over and over.

At last her little rosy face lit up and she said her word as she watched Uncle Frodo’s nice eyes.

It wasn’t perfectly clear but it was quite understandable. And it was two words, not one.

“Love Frodo.” she said. There was no mistaking it. And she knew what it meant for she was a child fortunate to be born into a house full of love and had known nothing else from even before her birth.

Frodo looked at the dear little girl with amazement and he felt the swell of tears grow in his throat till they rose and spilled unchecked down his now always-

pale cheeks.

He drew the little child close and rested his head on her warm, sweetly-scented, golden head.

He would never see her grow up to become the most beautiful hobbit woman in the history of the Shire and the keeper of his tale as it was now written in the Red Book and would later be added to by her father Samwise. He wouldn’t know her many brothers or sisters who would live joyful lives in the Shire his sacrifice had preserved for them. There would be so much he would never know of all that he so loved in this gentle, thriving green land. It was thriving, but Frodo was dying.

“I love you too, Elanor.” He said in a barely audible, choked voice.

Briar was now crying openly yet silently.

Did she love him, too? Yes. Everyone who really knew him could not help but love him. But did she love him in the way she heard the people whisper when they walked by?

It wasn’t possible. And he was someone almost beyond the reach of that kind of love. Still when he left there would be a huge rent torn through her. And what could ever fill such a gaping wound.

“You’re going away.” she said.

Frodo nodded.

“You knew.”

“Yes. When?”

“Near the end of September.”

Briar looked down then in a moment after wiping away her tears she sighed.

“You must go before the sixth of October.”

“I think I must.”

“What will I do?” It was simple question. Not a begging for him to remain.

“You’ll stay with Sam and Rose and Elanor and all the babes that will come along after her. You will love and care for them as you have for me. And they will love and care for you. Always. This is your home, Briar.”

“But you won’t be here.”

“I can’t stay.”

“I know.”

“I would if I could.”

“I know.”

“If I stay.....”

“I know.”

Elanor had drifted off to sleep and Frodo gently placed her in her cradle, drew the soft blanket Briar had knitted over the little hobbit-child and kissed her golden head once again.

Then he went and taking Briar’s hands drew her to her feet.

She looked at him, puzzled. She felt confused. Then to her astonishment he kissed the dark curls on her forehead much in the way he had kissed the babe.

“Did you know that I love you? “ he said. “That if I could I would stay and make a life like this for us here.”

Briar’s dark eyes grew almost too wide for her face. She could not speak.

“Briar? Dont’ go away to that place of yours just now. Talk to me.”

She did want to retreat inside herself. This was too much to feel. Too much. No one had ever loved her. Not like this. And now HE said this to her. HE said it! She pulled all her feelings together. She was sadder than she had ever been in her life but also so happy that it would be enough to last her a lifetime. All this at the same time. She stopped crying and then looking up and feeling now an odd mixture of aching and contentment she said.... With just a touch of arch humor....

“I..... didn’t know.”

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