Chapter 15 – Making Amends

“Look who’s here,” Esmeralda called as she entered the near-silent sick room. Frodo looked up from his book, which he was only half-reading while Talia went about making more of her teas. Esmeralda had Merry in her arms, and the little bairn near jumped out of her arms when he saw Frodo.

Frodo grinned. “Hallo Merry-mine,” he said and lifted his arms as Esme settled the bairn onto his lap. Frodo bounced Merry a little and smiled like a fool as Merry reached out with grabbing hands.

“Phhff!” Merry replied. He gurgled happily and reached up to pat Frodo’s face and play with his curls.

“Do you want to hear a story?” Frodo asked, ignoring a rather painful tug at his hair. Merry shrieked his answer, so Frodo went back to his book, starting at the beginning though he knew it made no difference to Merry.

Esme took out the knitting she had brought with her and busied herself as she listened to Frodo read aloud to Merry, a smile on her own lips. This was how things should always be.  

“Your name has been cleared, on more than one count,” Menegilda said to Gil. “Frodo did not name you in his reason for entering the forest. His actions had little, if nothing, to do with your words. Does that comfort you?”

“No,” Gil answered.

They sat in the Mistress’s private sitting room, sipping mulled cider. Three days had passed since the search ended, and Gil had been kept busy recounting his experience in the forest to everyone who asked to hear it, or rather, attempting to avoid anyone who wanted a recount. Unfortunately, it seemed everyone wanted to hear about his adventure in the Old Forest and they were always shocked when Gil told them how frightened he had been. They insisted that Gil was simply being modest and made up their own version of the tale where Gil was the one who found Frodo. Gil was glad to get away from it all and sit in relative quiet with the Mistress, if only for a short time.

“He could have died,” Gil continued.

“But he did not. My son tells me he gets stronger every day. He will be allowed to return to his own room tomorrow,” Gilda said. “Have you spoken with Master Brockhouse since your return?”

Gil quirked his eyebrow at this sudden change of topic, then shook his head. “I have not seen him. Why?”

“Where will you be today?”

“I was planning to visit Frodo,” Gil answered. “I went yesterday but he was asleep. I’m hoping to speak with him.”

Gilda nodded thoughtfully at this. “I will inform Edon when he arrives then that he might find you in the healer’s quarters. It is time for the two of you to speak, but please allow Edon to speak first.”

Gil nodded, not understanding in the slightest but willing do as his Mistress bid. “Yes ma’am.”

“Good. You may go then as you wish, Madi.”

“May I hide here a little longer, Cousin Gilda?” Gil asked, not bothered by the use of his childhood name. There were a few elders who still addressed him in that manner and he secretly liked it.

Menegilda laughed. “Hide as long as you wish. I always enjoy good company.”

Gil left the sitting room an hour later and quickly made his way through the tunnels to the healer’s quarters. When he arrived, he knocked lightly on the door. At the call to enter, he slowly opened the door and peeked inside to find Talia, Esme and Merry keeping Frodo company. Frodo was still reading to Merry, though his voice was tiring and he had to take many sips of water to keep his voice fresh. Frodo looked up and smiled brightly as Gil entered.

“Hullo Gil,” Frodo greeted.

“Hallo, Frodo, Cousin Esme,” he greeted back, trying not to show his nervousness as he stepped just inside the room. “How is the Hero of Brandy Hall feeling this morning?”

Frodo looked at him in confusion. “Hero?”

“Well, yes. You braved the Old Forest by yourself, the first ever to do so,” Gil said. “You must know that all the other lads are thoroughly impressed and more than a bit envious, and a good many of the lasses are preparing to swoon over you as soon as you leave this room.”

“That’s silly,” Frodo said. “All I did was get myself lost in a place everyone else had the sense to stay out of, and then nearly died there. There’s nothing heroic about that.” He tilted his head at Gil, his expression unreadable. “I heard about you though.”

Gil nodded. “I figured as you would. Look, can I speak with you for a moment, alone?” He glanced at the healer and Esme. Talia quickly assessed the situation and nodded, and Esme readily complied.

They stood up and stretched. “It is time for Merry’s feeding anyhow,” Esme said and took the bairn from a reluctant Frodo. She kissed Frodo’s brow. “We’ll be back,” she promised. She paused at Gil’s side and whispered, “I didn’t get to say earlier, but Saradoc and I are proud of you.” Then she left before giving the lad a chance to reply.

The healer finished putting her things away and checking the stores in her medical satchel. “I have some other patients to check up on,” she stated. “I will be back within the hour. Can you stay here until either Rae or I, or the Mistress, return?”

Gil nodded again. “Of course, Mistress Talia. I’ll not leave him alone.”

“He’s to take his tea again in another half hour,” she said. She placed an encouraging hand on Gil’s shoulder and left the room.

Gil lingered by the door, still not certain he was entirely welcome but there was nothing for it now. He had to stay, and stay he wanted. He took the seat next to Frodo’s bed and looked down at the book with interest. “What is it about?” he asked.

“A treasure hunt,” Frodo said. “Well, it’s about a goose hunt, but I’m pretending it’s treasure.”

Gil laughed. “Treasure would be much more interesting,” he stated. “A golden goose, perhaps.”

“Or a goose that lays golden eggs.”

“Now that would be worth a hunt,” Gil agreed. “A common farmer, called to arms to rescue a goose from an evil lord, who keeps it only for the worth of its golden eggs. But he keeps it in the most deplorable conditions, and the farmer is sent to free the poor bird.”

“What happens?” Frodo asked, enthralled, his book forgotten.

Gil laughed. “I don’t know, let me think on it for a while.” He made himself a bit more comfortable and gave Frodo a good once-over. The lad still looked a bit dazed, but one had to look closely to tell. He noticed also that Frodo was sweating slightly and he figured it must be from the excursion of sitting up, even propped against pillows, and holding the book. Gil gently took the book from Frodo’s hand and looked down at the page. “This is very boring.”

“It is,” Frodo said. “I like your story better.”

“Then I’ll continue it, but it won’t be perfect.”

“That’s all right.”

“How are you feeling?” Gil asked, not wanting to forget the purpose of his visit. He marveled that the lad was speaking with him at all and actually seemed to be enjoying his company.

“I’m better, though I still get dizzy and shaky if I stand up too quick or for too long,” Frodo answered. “I’ll be glad when I’m not so tired and weak anymore.”

“It must be frustrating,” Gil intoned. “I remember when I got the flu last year. I was sick for a week, and tired and weak for another two weeks after. It was horrible, having to stop every ten feet to rest and catch my breath. Thankfully, I was at my grandmum’s in Pincup at the time. Her home is much smaller than here, but it still took me a good ten minutes to get from one end to the other.”

Frodo hummed sympathetically. “I was sick like that once. Mama wouldn’t let me leave the house for a month. Now that was boring.”

Gil laughed again. “Yes, I can see how it would be.” There was a momentary pause then, awkward and tense. Frodo watched him closely, his expression unreadable. Gil cleared his throat nervously and shifted in the chair. “This is long overdue. … I need to apologize to you Frodo. I said some terrible things to you the other day that were not true. I thank you for not blaming me in what you did, but we all know you wouldn’t have gone into the Forest if I hadn’t said those things, would you have?”

Frodo scrunched his face at this and thought long about it. Gil waited, allowing the lad as much time as he needed. Finally, Frodo shook his head. “No, I don’t think I would have, but you were right. I am a coward. I went into the Forest to prove that I could be brave, and I failed. I was scared the whole time.”

“But that’s what being brave is, doing something even though you’re afraid, and of course you would be afraid,” Gil said gently. “We were all scared, when we were looking for you, and there were nine of us together. I couldn’t imagine going into the Forest alone. That would take more courage than I have.”

Frodo considered this before replying. “It didn’t feel like courage. I thought I had defeated the forest. I went in, and I was scared, but after a while it wasn’t so scary anymore. Then when I tried to come back out, it caught me good. It wouldn’t let me come out and kept sending me around in circles. I thought I would never get out again. I thought I would die there and…”

“And what?” Gil asked.

“And I didn’t want to.” He looked down, ashamed. He fingered a bare thread of the coverlet, avoiding eye contact.

Gil regarded Frodo closely, confused by this reaction. “Of course you didn’t,” he said. “No one wants to die.”

“I used to,” Frodo said, barely audible. “I used to want to.”

“So you could be with your parents again?” Gil guessed. Frodo nodded. “I remember that,” Gil went on. “I think, if that had happened to me, if I had lost my parents like that, at that age, I would feel the same. I’d have done the same, try to join them.”

Frodo lifted his head in surprise and looked at Gil intently. This was the first time he had ever heard anyone say such a thing to him. Before now, he thought he was the only one who ever thought such things. “Really?”

Gil nodded. “At that age, your parents are all you know, all that you have. To have them ripped away like that, to have your life changed so drastically in so short a time… You’re not a coward, Frodo. You’ve lived through things the rest of us can’t even imagine. You tried to follow your parents… That wasn’t brave, it was desperation; but when you couldn’t follow, you lifted your head high in defiance. Rebelling may not have been the wisest thing to do, but it’s understandable and it was brave of you to continue on after all you’ve seen.”

“But I am a coward,” Frodo insisted, for all that Gil’s words lifted his heart. “I worry about everything. I worry that something will happen to Esme and Sara, or even to Merry. I worry that I’ll never fit in anywhere again. I don’t belong here. I’m lost here.”

“Yet despite all that, you keep moving forward,” Gil said, admiration clear in his eyes. “You might sit and pout and feel sorry for yourself at times, we all do that, but you ultimately stand up and keep going. You don’t let anything keep you down, and that takes strength. You don’t ask for pity and you accept none. You stand up for your friends. You went into the forest that everyone fears, alone. No matter why you did it, you went in and you stayed there; that took courage. It may not have been by your intention, but you stayed there and you survived there. You took care of yourself.”

“Not very well,” Frodo said. “I nearly died. I could have been with them again, but instead I’m glad that I’m not. Does that make me a bad son?” he asked, and tears sprang to his eyes.

Gil sat, surprised at this question and at first, he didn’t know how to respond. He scrambled through his mind for the right words to help Frodo through this moment. “No, you’re not,” he said at last. “You love your parents, they know it, wherever they may be. More over, your parents wouldn’t want you to lose your life so young. Parents want to see their children grown and happy, and with families of their own. Your parents loved you so much, they would want those things for you too. They wouldn’t want you to join them, not yet. I think that would make them terribly sad.”

“I thought I heard them once, while I was in the forest,” Frodo said, blushing slightly as he realized what that must sound like. “They said the same thing, and they said that they chose someone to protect me.”

“Well, there you have it then. You were meant to live,” Gil replied.

“I have these dreams sometimes,” Frodo said, feeling bolder. “I dream that they’re calling to me from the Sea, asking me to help them. They’re caught and they can’t get out. They call to me, over and over. How can I help them?”

Gil consider this for many moments, and then, though he already knew the answer, he asked, “Have you ever been back to the River since they drowned?”

Frodo shook his head. “No, I’ve been too afraid to go.”

“You know the tale of the Fell Winter?” Gil started. Frodo nodded. “Then you know that it was so cold that winter that the Brandywine froze solid. It froze so completely, that it became like a road that only the most cunning would dare travel. It turned out, the most cunning were wolves. Bandobras the Bullroarer called the hobbits to arms, to fight off the wolves and turn them from the land. Hobbits from all over the Shire and Buckland answered the call, including one hobbit who left behind a young wife. He went to fight the wolves and fight them he did. He killed a good number before he himself was bitten, so fatally that he was dead within moments, before anyone even knew what had happened. He was killed by the wolf chief, who leapt upon him and bit him in the throat. He died atop the Brandywine, the very river he had lived next to his entire life.

“The next spring, after the Thaw, his wife, now a widow, went to the River to get water for washing, and as she kneeled down to dip a bucket into the water, she thought she heard her husband’s voice calling to her from beneath the surface of the river. Thinking she must be hearing things, she went back home and didn’t think any further of it. Until it happened again, and again, and again. Finally, she broke down crying and ran away from the River and refused to go near it. Only then she started hearing the voice elsewhere, wherever she went and even when she slept, so that she got no rest and no peace from the voice.

“She sent for the healer and the healer told her the only way to make the voice go away was to go back to the River and to see that there was no one there. The lass did as she was told, so desperate she was to be rid of the haunting voice. She went back to the River and when the voice came to her, she drew all her breath and put her head into the water. She looked all around, and could not see anything. She looked and looked, and still there was no sign of her lost love.

“Then she sat back, and looked at the River, disappointment so deep in her heart she thought she would die right where she sat, and she wept bitter tears. That is when she understood. The voice wasn’t the haunting of her dearly beloved husband, it was her heart not wanting to let go. So, as hard as it was for her to do, she let him go, released his spirit to the realm beyond but never forgetting him or his kindness and she found that by letting go her anguish, she could keep close her memories of him and be glad for them. After that time, she never heard his voice again, except every now and again in her sleep to tell her everything was all right, and she was able to live in peace for the rest of her days.”

Gil looked at Frodo intently now. “Your parents are gone, Frodo,” he said. “Let them go and live your life. It’s what they want. And perhaps if you are able to let them go, like the lass in the story, you might not be so afraid anymore.”

Frodo considered this gravely but said nothing on the matter. For the rest of their time together, they spoke of frivolous things. Gil saw that Frodo drank his tea, and Frodo told Gil some of Bilbo’s best stories. Then Gil started the tale of the Goose of the Golden Eggs and that kept them both busy until Talia returned. With regret, Gil stood and gently patted Frodo on the head. “Think of what I said.”

Frodo nodded. “I will. Thank you, Gil.”

“Thank you, Frodo.”

“For what?”

“You should be angry with me, but you’re not,” Gil said.

Frodo shook his head. “What good is being angry going to do?”

“None,” Gil answered, surprised at the simplicity of the question, and the answer. He felt silly for not realizing it sooner. He tipped his head to Frodo and left.  

Edon was waiting for him when he stepped into the tunnel. He had forgotten that the Mistress was going to send for him and he tensed momentarily. Still, remembering his promise to Menegilda, he measured Edon evenly and waited for him to speak.

“Hullo Gil,” Edon said nervously, standing up from his seat upon the floor. He brushed off his breeches and nodded toward the door. “How is he?”

“He’ll be fine in another week or so,” Gil said, amiably enough. “I heard you wanted to talk to me.”

Edon nodded. “Can we go outside, somewhere private?”

Gil nodded. It seemed he would have no end of private conversations today and he was not particularly looking forward to this one. However, he had promised Gilda, so he motioned down the tunnel and started walking, keeping a good distance between him and Edon. “Best to go outside then,” Gil said, and Edon followed behind in silence.

Gil found the nearest door that led to outside, and he and Edon passed through, breathing sighs of relief once they were out in the open air. Neither lad was eager to begin this conversation. Gil could only guess what Edon wanted to speak about. Considering the last couple of weeks, he guessed it must have something to do with Frodo’s disappearance.

Gil led them to a birch that stood a fair distance from Buck Hill and Brandy Hall, until no one was near to overhear them. They stopped to stand beneath the tree, Gil with his hands tucked into his pockets, his shoulders tense. “Well?” he asked.

Edon straightened his waistcoat and cleared his throat, then fiddled with the buttons of his shirt before forcing his hands to still. “There’s no real way to say this but to say it. I told the Mistress what happened that night at Farmer Gideon’s fields. I admitted to framing you and stealing all that food and putting it in your room.”

“You did?” Gil asked, taken by surprise.

Of all the things he had expected to hear, this was not it. He wasn’t sure what to make of the news, but a sense of tremendous relief rushed through him. True, he had been able to repair much of his reputation after that incident, but he still received dark, mistrusting looks from time to time when in Bucklebury. If Edon were telling the truth, Gil would no longer have to worry about that, and Edon must be telling the truth, for the Mistress herself had told Gil to wait for Edon.

“I owe you an apology,” Edon said. “I owe you more than that, but I don’t know if I can say or do anything to make up what I did to you. I’m sure you know the reason, but Fuchsia was really a small part of it. I was jealous of you, always was, and I was even more jealous when you so quickly won back everyone’s trust after you returned from Pincup. You’re everything I could never be, no matter how hard I tried, and I hated you a little for it. I’m sorry.”

Gil took a few minutes to absorb this, his mind still whirling from this unexpected news. “How many people know the truth?” he asked.

“Everyone, by tomorrow,” Edon answered. “I’m to announce my misdeeds at dinner here tonight, and tomorrow, I’m to announce them at market. I’m also to help serve you and your family for dinner, every night for the rest of the month. It’s part of my punishment. I’m also to work for Farmer Gideon to make up for what I stole. It’s all been arranged already; I’ll start there tomorrow, after I make my announcement, and continue on through the harvest. And then…”

“Yes?”

Edon shrugged. “I don’t know to be honest. I could stay here and live with everyone hating me. It wouldn’t be too different from before actually. But I’ve been thinking of moving back to Branbourne and working for my grandfather. Someone needs to take over the vineyards there. Sed can have Mauville. He’s wanted it from the moment we moved here and he’s much more liked here than I am.”

“Folk like you, Ed,” Gil said. “You just don’t let yourself see it. Do you think Fendi and Morti would have sided with you if they didn’t like you more?”

“I doubt they’ll talk to me after tonight; Sed isn’t,” Edon answered. “I’m the reason they’ve hated you for the last year and a half. I’ve been telling them what a scoundrel you were, how you betrayed me. I’ve been lying to them.”

“You still don’t have to leave,” Gil said. “It’ll wash over. Believe me, I know. And if anyone gives you grief, they’ll have me to deal with.”

Edon smiled with disbelief at this pronouncement, but shook his head. “No, I can’t accept that. You were right, it’s time I stand on my own,” he stated. “Besides, I don’t belong here. I’ve never really fit in here. I’m too rough ‘round the edges for all that I pretend that I’m not, and that’s the main problem. I’ve been pretending for so long I’ve forgotten who I am.”

“I remember when I first met you,” Gil said with a fond smile. “You had holes in your breeches and two buttons missing from your shirt. You didn’t even know what cufflinks were. You talked unlike anyone I had ever met before. I couldn’t believe you were the son of the hobbit who had outbid half of Buckland to acquire Mauville. You didn’t stand by ceremony or propriety, you didn’t even know what it was. You walked right up to Tucker and told him he’d forgotten to button his trousers. I liked you from the start. You have changed though and it’s a shame.”

Edon nodded. “It’s hard to believe I was ever that lad. It’s even harder to believe I’m the lad I am now. I’m just so lost here, adrift like. I need an anchor. I think it would be best if I left, went back home.”

Gil accepted this but on one condition. “Do me a favor?”

“Of course. I owe you that much,” Edon said.

“Write often and come to visit every once in a while.”

Edon again laughed is disbelief. “Why do you want to be my friend again?” he asked. “I thought you’d be glad to see me gone.”

Gil considered this. It was true enough. Two weeks ago, he would have rejoiced seeing Edon depart for the Northfarthing, but a lot had happened since then. “Let’s just say, I don’t want to hear your voice in the River every time I take a swim.”

“What?” Edon asked, not understanding. “Did the Forest effect your mind in some way?”

Now Gil laughed. “It opened my eyes so to speak. You’ll be paying your penance for what you did, and I know you tell the truth when you say you’re sorry. That makes us even. I’m willing to attempt friendship again if you are.”

“I most certainly am,” Edon said, disbelieving his good luck. He had never dreamed for the opportunity to regain Gil’s trust. The task would not be easy and they had a long road ahead of them before they could once again enjoy the friendship they had shared, but they at least were started now. They shook hands on the vow and sat beneath the birch to await dinner time.

“Do you know what you’re going to say?” Gil asked.

Edon nodded. “I have it all written out and I’ve been practicing. It will be hard, but not too terribly hard. It’s Piper – or her dad – that I’m worried about. I don’t reckon he’d be too keen on letting his daughter court an admitted liar and thief.”

“Piper?” Gil asked.

“Piper Redleaf. She works in the quilt shop in Bucklebury.”

“Really? When did this happen?”

“While you were gone,” Edon answered.

“Well, hopefully, her dad’ll be able to see that you’ve changed and are making amends. Don’t expect it to happen all at once though. You’ll have to win him over, much as I did Mr. Brownlock. I can help you if you like, give you advice,” Gil offered.

“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”

And the two friends talked until the sun faded.

To be continued…