Chapter 5

Esmeralda sat miserably on the settee, Saradoc’s arm held firmly around her slumped shoulders. Next to his father sat Merry, his little feet swinging agitatedly off the edge of the cushion, his arms crossed. None of them spoke or looked at the other.

Merry was trying very hard not to be angry at his mother but he wasn’t being too successful. He kept thinking of all the hard work he and Frodo had put into Bilbo’s birthday present and how much Frodo had wanted to surprise his beloved older cousin. It was going to be fun to give it to Bilbo, but now it wouldn’t be, and worse yet, Frodo had been hurt. His mother had yelled at Frodo, even though Frodo had been telling the truth this time. Merry kept picturing that wounded expression on Frodo’s face and reflected in his eyes; Frodo had seemed to deflate under the accusations, and then he had run off as he always did.

Saradoc was thinking much the same as his son, though he had noticed a few things Merry had not. The careful balance they had been struggling so hard to keep with Frodo could now never be repaired. Frodo had been more than hurt for being called a liar; he had felt himself depreciated. After trying so hard all these months to regain their trust, he had been forced to face the fact that there remained still in them both a seed of doubt. Even Sara had felt that doubt taking root over the last few days, with Frodo’s late night wanderings and many disappearances.

The result was more devastating than Sara could have anticipated. Frodo’s spirit, always so fragile to begin with, seemed to have been drained from him within the blink of an eye, and just as quickly, it had been replaced by the shell Frodo so often hid himself within. Frodo would never fully emerge from it again, Sara knew that. Frodo’s meager ‘yes Aunt Esme’ had not meant agreement or confession, but that Frodo would no longer fight her because he knew in the end he would stand accused anyway.

Esme had come to the same conclusions as her husband and her heart felt as though it had been squeezed in a vise. She didn’t believe she could ever feel more horrible and guilt-ridden than she did right now, and she knew that nothing she did could take back what she had said. Frodo was lost to them now. This had been their last attempt to forge an open relationship with Frodo, they had known that all along. Esme just never thought she would be the one to ruin it, and therein lay the problem. She had always had her doubts, and now it was Frodo who would never trust her again.

How long they sat there, numb and lost in thought, they could not have guessed, but at last the door opened and Bilbo walked in. He shook his head sadly as they rose to their feet. He had not found Frodo, as they had expected. The lad was simply too good at disappearing.

“I looked everywhere for him that I could think of, without raising too much suspicion. The last thing Frodo needs now is for word of this to get around the Hall,” Bilbo said.

He shook his head again and sat himself upon a chair. He looked at Esme sympathetically. “I would have been here sooner,” he went on, “but I went to visit Seredic and Hilda. Hilda Bracegirdle she was called before she married, and I am much too familiar with her family’s ways. I got her to confess that she was the one taking the food, to satisfy her cravings. She is with child, you see.”

“Oh,” Esme muttered. That was the last thing she had expected to hear.

“And she gave Frodo and Merry the biscuits. Why?” Sara asked.

“Apparently, they nearly caught her in the act,” Bilbo answered. “They came into the kitchen as she was going out. According to her, Frodo gave her a peculiar look, so she gave them some of her hoard to relieve suspicion.” He paused and looked at Esme once more, then asked gently, “Did you never tell Frodo of the type of food that was being taken?”

“No,” Esme answered. She hid her face again. How could she not have told him that? This whole mystery would have been solved much sooner, before it ever came to this. How could she be so thoughtless?

Finally, Sara stirred. He gently pulled Esme’s hands from her face and thumbed the tears from her cheeks. “Come, dearest, we may as well turn in,” he stated. “Frodo will be back for the party tomorrow; he won’t forget his duties as host. We’ll speak with him then and clear this all up.”

Esmeralda nodded gamely and took a deep, steadying breath before reaching down for Merry’s hand and leading him to his room. Merry looked up at her unhappily as she helped him change into his sleeping gown, but before she could tuck him into bed, he reached up and threw his arms around her neck, hugging her fiercely.

“I’m sorry I’m mad at you, Mum,” he said, the first words he had spoken since the scene in Frodo’s room.

“I’m sorry I gave you reason to be,” Esme said and returned the hug, kissing him gratefully on his forehead as she lifted him up and put him in bed. She tucked him in and kissed his brow again. “Don’t stay up waiting on Frodo. He likely won’t be back until morning, and you’ll want to be well rested for his and Bilbo’s birthday.”

Merry nodded. “I’ll try not to,” he promised, but they both knew he would be up all night, listening for the front door to open. He could never sleep when Frodo was missing.

Sara was saying good night to Bilbo when Esme emerged from Merry’s room. Sara closed the door softly and Esme left Merry’s door slightly ajar. Then they met in the center of the parlor and Esme let herself fall into her husband’s waiting embrace. Sara led her now, into their own bedchamber and there they sat up half the night themselves, discussing this latest development.

“What have I done?” she muttered at the start, as they were readying for sleep. “We said we wouldn’t do this. We said we’d give him the benefit of the doubt and what do I do?”

“I would have done the same, given such evidence,” Sara confided. “If anything, at least we know who is behind the missing food. I’ll go to Mother in the morning, and by the time she’s done with Hilda, the poor lass will never set foot in the kitchens again.”

“That doesn’t help us with Frodo.”

“I know, dearest, I just don’t know what to do on that end,” Sara said. They climbed into bed and leaned against the headboard. “We might be able to mend this, though it will take longer than we had originally hoped.”

“And if we can’t?” Esme asked.

“I think it’s time we admit we don’t know how to help Frodo,” Sara said with resignation. “We’re doing him more harm than good. Maybe it would be best if he went to live with someone else.”

“He won’t go to Milo’s,” Esme said, focusing on the particulars rather than the possibility that she might have to let Frodo go.

Sara agreed about Milo, for Milo now lived in the house once owned by Frodo’s parents. The little house held too many memories for him and he refused to go near it. “Perhaps Aunt Ami or Uncle Dino,” Sara mused. Frodo was not too close with Amaranth though he liked her well enough. Dinodas tended to spoil Frodo, and so Frodo naturally turned to him when he wanted something special.

“Perhaps Del will take him in again. It would be best if Frodo could go back with someone he had lived with before,” Esme stated.

“Del’s just getting used to having Milo out of the hole,” Sara said. “Maybe we could send him with Gil?”

“No, absolutely not,” Esme said. “Gil’s newly married, and raising a tween is not something that he and Fuchsia need to be concerning themselves with. More importantly, they’ll be moving to the Northfarthing soon. Frodo has no other family up there and it’s simply too far away from us. I want to keep him close.”

“So then who else is there?”

They continued to go through the family, considering this relation and that one, trying to decide the best thing to do for Frodo’s sake. Eventually, they fell asleep, exhausted and drained, but across the apartment Merry still lay awake, waiting for Frodo to return.  

The sun was not yet fully up when a light knock sounded on the back door of the small, simple cottage. Piper put the tea kettle over the hearth fire and went to answer the call. She was not entirely surprised to discover who the guest was.

“Master Frodo,” she said and stepped aside to let him in. Frodo often came calling when he was having problems with his guardians and he had been a regular visitor the year before. “What’s troublin’ ‘ee, sir?”

Frodo sat at the table, at the seat he usually took at the head of the table near the door. He didn’t say anything but by the puffiness of his eyes, he had clearly not slept well. His clothes were also wrinkled and lightly covered in dirt, and there were leaves and bits of grass in his hair. Piper took this all in without a word and went back to her cooking. When the tea kettle whistled, she fixed Frodo a mug and set it before him, knowing that when he was ready, he would start talking.

He sat sipping his mug as the other members of the family came in and out of the kitchen. They all greeted Frodo kindly and were content to let him be. Mr. Redleaf took the seat next to Frodo without a word about being displaced in his own home.

They all liked Frodo and couldn’t begin to feel any ill-will toward him. If he was here, it was because he had something gnawing at him and needed to let it out. He wouldn’t do that until everyone was out of the house though, so they went about their business, making sure he was fed but not fussing over him unduly. They called farewell to him as they headed out the door, the master and his three strapping lads to their work as fisherhobbits and boat-makers, and the youngest lass going outside with their mother to begin washing the laundry.

An hour after he arrived, he was finally alone with Piper, a new mug of steaming tea in front of him, fixed just as he liked it. Piper sat down to eat herself now, letting the other dishes soak as she rested. She looked up at Frodo questioningly. “So?” she asked.

Frodo tried several times to speak but he could get no further than opening his mouth and grasping at air. On his third attempt he was close to tears. Piper reached out a hand and patted his supportively.

“Was there another fight?” she asked.

Frodo nodded then shook his head. “Not exactly a fight,” he finally managed. “She wants me to leave. She doesn’t trust me with Merry. She doesn’t trust me at all.” Now he did cry, just a single tear watering his eye, and his lip quivered slightly.

Piper was out of her seat and next to his in a second. She rested a hand on his arm and hummed sympathetically. “What makes ‘ee think that?”

Slowly, Frodo got the story out. His initial show of emotion dried up in the telling of it and by the time he was done, his voice was flat and monotone, and he was staring at the wooden table top, not really seeing it as he traced the many scratches carved into its surface over the long, hard years of constant use.

“We all say things when we’re upset, Master Frodo,” Piper reasoned. “Sometimes even things as we don’t really mean. Mayhap that’s why they hurt more’n aught else we can say, because we never wanted to say ‘em and now we can’t take ‘em back.”

Frodo shook his head. “She meant it. At that moment, she meant it. And Uncle Sara just stood there, which means he agrees with her. Neither of them want me anymore. I don’t want to be shuffled about again. I just want a home to call my own.”

Piper’s heart broke for the child, who couldn’t cry anymore for himself. She squeezed his arm and let him be for a moment, then said, “’Ee have a home, Master Frodo. No family’s not without their problems. Why, ‘ee should be here when me dad and brothers go at it! They near bring the roof down with all their shoutin’. Everyone gets upset, but that doesn’t mean they love ‘ee no less than they did afore.” She stood and placed a kiss into Frodo’s curls. “’Ee think about it, and when you’re ready, ‘ee go on home and ‘ee talk to ‘em, for ‘ee can’t be avoiding ‘em forever.” Piper stood and took the now-empty plate from Frodo. “Are ‘ee still hungry?”

“No thank you.”

Frodo swirled the remaining tea in his mug, not really seeing it, so absorbed he was in his thoughts. Home. He’d had a home once, a long time ago, and as much as he had tried, as much as they had all tried, he had always known that Esme and Sara’s home would never truly be his own. He sipped the tea, not tasting it. He knew Piper was right, that he would have to return to the Hall eventually. He may as well get it over and done with.

When Piper turned around from her washing to retrieve Frodo’s mug, she found the lad gone and the house empty.  

Yet Frodo did not return home that morning, nor did he arrive in the afternoon. The time of the party loomed near, and no one in Brandy Hall had seen hide nor hair of him. Esme, Bilbo and Merry were fretting anxiously, while Sara preoccupied himself with seeing to the guests that were already arriving in the Hall’s main sitting parlor. He had not yet decided what he would tell the guests should Frodo fail to turn up; he was hoping that Frodo might arrive at any moment and save him from having to make up excuses.

As it turned out, Frodo did arrive, just a few minutes before the dinner was to start, and he was loaded down with gifts. He grinned sheepishly while his relatives lovingly chuckled. “Always putting off for tomorrow what can be done today,” Dodinas said and ruffled the lad’s hair.

Frodo shrugged as he handed out the presents. “You know me,” he said, a bit too cheerfully. He made a good show of bantering with his guests, though to Sara and Esme’s careful eyes, he was quieter than he would normally be.

Merry ran up to him then and hugged him tight around the legs. Frodo patted the lad’s head and finished unloading the rest of his presents, which Sara was certain were all from the mathom rooms, though the guests didn’t say anything about it. Frodo scooped up Merry then and said a few quiet words into his ear, then carried the child to the stack of real presents that sat in the corner. “Help me carry?” he asked Merry as he set the lad down. Merry nodded and together, they handed out the real presents.

Bilbo’s was amongst the first gifts that Frodo handed out. “Merry helped me. That’s what we were doing,” he said simply.

The box had not been wrapped, as Frodo had not had time to do so, a fact he greatly regretted for the box itself was part of the gift. It was made of cherry wood and stained a vibrant red and was lined with soft cloth. Frodo figured that Bilbo could store his pipe weed in it and keep it in the front parlor, where Bilbo liked most to read.

“What a lovely box,” Bilbo exclaimed in awe. “You made this?”

“No, I bought that. We made what’s inside,” Frodo said.

Bilbo opened the lid and a moment later he was hugging Frodo tightly. “What a wonderful gift! You’ve outdone yourself, my lad. And you too Merry. Very well-thought and well-given.” He stooped down and hugged Merry also. Merry beamed up at him. “This must have taken you some time. No wonder you’ve been so scarce.”

Frodo smiled half-heartedly. Any joy he might have felt in giving the gift was now weighed down by the accusations that surrounded it. Bilbo understood without asking and hugged Frodo again, patting his shoulder fondly.

Many presents followed and many exclamations of equal delight were expressed. Frodo had chosen all his gifts well, using his talent of unobtrusive observation to find out what everyone wanted the most, and then going out to acquire them. Merry’s job was mainly to hand the packages to Frodo so that Frodo would not have to constantly stoop and Merry took great pride in his assignment. Then Merry handed Frodo two small packages. Frodo handed them back.

“These are for your parents,” he said softly. Merry ran them over to where his parents were sitting and Frodo avoided eye contact as they opened them by handing out the last of the presents. Sara’s gift was a pair of gold cufflinks with an imprint of a stag on each one. Sara had been complaining about his plain silver cufflinks at the last formal dinner, and Frodo must have overheard. He had chosen the cufflinks both for Sara’s nickname, Scattergold, and because a stag was part of the Brandybuck family crest.

Esme’s gift was just as carefully chosen. Wrapped inside a scarf of deep orange and brown were a pair of butterfly hair clips and a pair of matching earrings. The butterflies were brown argus, known by the splashes of brilliant orange that dotted its outer wings. The colors were perfectly matched to her hair and eyes.

Somehow, they managed to get through the party. Frodo played the perfect host and if anyone noticed that he was avoiding Esme and Sara, they did not give any indication. Only Gil said anything about it, near the end of the party. He finally got a moment alone with Frodo while they were both retrieving punch.

“Seems a bit tense in here,” Gil said casually.

Frodo only shrugged. “Doesn’t it always,” he said. “I just want to get through the party.”

“And then run away again? This is quite a pattern with you, Frodo,” Gil said, concern deep in his voice and eyes.

“I’m not running. I just need some time.”

Gil nodded his understanding. “If you want to talk…”

“Maybe I’ll come by later, if I can,” Frodo replied. He looked his friend in the eye for the first time. “I’m not mad at you Gil. It’s just… I know people are going to leave me eventually, even you. I just hoped it wouldn’t really happen, that maybe Edon would come back and you wouldn’t have to go, or Fuchsia wouldn't like it there and you would decide to stay. And even if they’re all here now… How can I have so many people around me and feel so alone?”

“Everyone feels that way sometimes,” Gil said, “but what you’re doing isn’t the answer. You think that if you distance yourself now, it’ll hurt less later. What you don’t see, Frodo, is that you’re already hurting and you’re just making it last longer. You don’t have to be alone.”

The rest of the night was a blur of pointless conversations and mirthless jokes. At last, the cake was brought out and eaten, and soon after, the guests started leaving. Bilbo, fearing Frodo might try to give them the slip again, stood with the new tween at the door as he said good-nights and thank-you-for-comings to his guests, but he needn’t worry. Frodo had meant what he said to Gil, and by the end of the party, he felt himself ready to face his guardians, no matter what may come of it.

Finally, everyone was gone. Bilbo closed the door and guided Frodo to sit on the settee, and Sara, Esme and Merry took up seats around him. Frodo sat looking at his hands, neither pulling away from Bilbo’s hold on his arm nor acknowledging that he was even there. Sara and Esme refrained their sighs; they had already known this wasn’t going to be easy.

When a few minutes passed in nothing but silence, Bilbo stood and took Merry’s hand. “Come on, my lad,” he said. “Let’s work off some of that energy you have.” With a nudge and a nod from his parents, and a barely detectable nod from Frodo, Merry followed Bilbo reluctantly.

Once they were out of the room, Sara sat forward in his seat and cleared his throat. “Frodo,” he started. “I- thank you for the gift, lad. That was very thoughtful of you.”

“You’re welcome,” Frodo muttered.

“The clips and earrings are so lovely, Frodo,” Esme ventured next. “They even match the necklace I have.”

Frodo nodded and mumbled, “Aunt Gilda told me the name of the jeweler who made the necklace for you.”

There was another uncomfortable pause, then Esmeralda, clutching her gifts in her hand, said, “Oh, Frodo, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have accused you so. Can you ever forgive me?”

It wasn’t what they had planned to say. In fact, they hadn’t managed to plan anything and had realized they would simply have to feel their way through this conversation. Anything that sounded rehearsed would sound false to the tween at any rate, and they knew it.

“Frodo,” Saradoc began next, “we were mistaken.” He included himself in the blame, for he would have reacted the same way had he been the one to enter the room first and found Frodo eating the very food that had disappeared a week earlier. They had become too accustomed over the years to Frodo being at fault. “There’s nothing we can do about what was said last night other than apologize. Bilbo spoke with Hilda last night, and Mother went to see her this morning. Seems Hilda was taking the food to feed her cravings; she’s with child. Mother insisted that was no excuse and Hilda will be joining the kitchen staff for the next two weeks to make up for what she’s taken.”

Frodo looked up at this, worry etched on his face. “But, she’s pregnant,” he said. “What about the bairn?”

“Working in the kitchens won’t harm her or the bairn,” Sara assured, knowing Frodo’s fears on this issue, for Frodo’s mother had nearly died in miscarriage once. “The healer will see that she gets rest if she needs it.”

“Frodo,” Esme said now, before they could get too distracted, “about last night. We all made promises, and you upheld those promises. We, on the other hand, did not. I feel horrible about how I acted, for accusing you as I did. I should have spoken with Hilda myself first, before anything else happened.”

“It’s all right, Aunt Esme,” Frodo said, looking down again. “I understand. Will you be sending me away now?”

“No, of course not,” Esme exclaimed. “We want you to stay, more than anything, but… we’ll understand if you decide you no longer want to live here.”

Frodo nodded but said nothing. Esme looked helplessly at Sara, who sat forward in his seat. “Frodo, I know what you’re thinking. You have somehow managed to blame yourself for this whole affair, and it is not your fault at all. You did everything we asked of you. We are the ones who failed, not you. We love you, Frodo, and we want so much for this to work.”

“But you don’t trust me, and that is my fault,” Frodo said, nearly a whisper. He sighed heavily. “I’m… I’ve been such a burden to you.”

“No, not at all,” Esme insisted. “Well, maybe a little but… Oh Frodo, you’ve been such a joy to us also. Every family has their problems, and every child acts up from time to time. We are the ones who let that color the way we see you. You’re a sweet child – young lad – and we couldn’t be more proud of you. You’ve been through so much and still you always think of others first. You never hesitate to give help where it’s needed. You’re a wonderful ‘older brother’ to Merry. We need to remember that more. We are the ones who have to work on our behavior.”

“We’ll start over anew,” Saradoc said. “We’ll try this again. You were doing wonderfully, Frodo – are doing wonderfully. It is us who need to work on this relationship now. We still had our doubts; that is our fault alone. But we see now how terribly wrong we were. This can work, I know it can. We just need to work a little harder than we thought we did. Will you give us another chance?”

Still looking down at his lap, Frodo nodded. “We’ll try again,” he said. Then he stood and glanced at them briefly. “I’m tired. I didn’t get much sleep. I would like to turn in now.”

“Of course, Frodo,” Esme said and Frodo slipped past them and out the door of the sitting room. Esme and Sara exchange looks as the door swung closed behind him. “What do we do now?”

“We try again,” Sara answered, though he felt no more optimistic than his wife. Of all the conversations they have had with Frodo over the years, this one was by far the worst. Sara doubted Frodo had even heard half of what they said. “We should make arrangements, just in case.”

Esmeralda nodded and left to fetch the cleaning maids before she could break into tears again.
 
 
 
 

To be continued…