Sharkey

Lobelia tried to answer the door but, as usual, she wasn’t allowed. Natuck was there first.

"We be right honored, sir, that you’re visitin’ here," he said as he moved aside to let a very different looking Big Person into the entry-way.

"Indeed."

The Man was tall, very tall, yet it didn’t seem to trouble him to be inside Bag End. He was clothed in raggedy, rather dirty, light colored robes, his white hair longer than the other men, his long beard had a black streak in it. Behind him, crouching as though he was in fear of the other, was an equally ragged Man all dressed in black. The first man looked Lobelia over, then spoke.

"You must be the mistress of this . . . smial I think is the correct term? A certain Mistress Sackville-Baggins?" The Man’s voice was deep and soothing with a cultured cadence that did not match his unkept appearance. His eyes had a strange gleam that seemed to flare brighter as he said "Baggins".

"Yes," Lobelia said hesitantly. I am Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, and you are?"

"Sharkey"

The sound of axes filled the air. In Bucklebury. In Woodhall. In Bywater. In Hobbiton, In Michel Delving. Trees were being felled throughout Buckland and the Shire. Felled and left lying. Hobbits tried to get the wood, hobbits were beaten, hauled off to the Lockholes. The trees were left to rot. Sharkey’s orders

Grain was Gathered. Hobbit workers took it to the large new mills that Lotho had built. They were turned away. Sharkey’s orders. But noises came from the mills. No one knew what it was the mills started doing, all anyone knew was that millponds and mill-streams turned dark. They stank. The fish started floating to the top.

There was hammering. Hammering on doors. Hammering on the few trees left standing. Hammering on posts that had been hammered into the ground. Hammering in tacks. Tacks that held the new Rules. More Rules. Harsher Rules. Sharkey’s orders.

It had been two weeks since her guests had arrived and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins was having trouble deciding if she was more frightened than angry, or more angry than frightened. Sharkey had moved in. The second day he was there he had Lobelia moved out of her room, the best in the hole, without a word to her. The Men just grabbed her things and threw them, literally threw them, into the smallest bedroom in Bag End. Sharkey took her room. Dust and debris were everywhere as the Men ripped down the ceiling in the room and raised its height to better accommodate its new occupant. No one cleaned up the mess.

No one cooked for her any longer. And there was always a Man watching the kitchen doling out what she could and could not have. The Men tracked in mud and dirt which no one cleaned up. She could hear Lotho’s voice in his office, but she was not allowed in. He never came out.

In two weeks time Bag End was in deplorable condition. Holes had been knocked in some of the walls, tiles torn up off the floors, several pieces of the furniture were broken. No one spoke to Lobelia. No one listened to her. No one even looked at her. So no one noticed when she left.

At first she was cautious, looking carefully about for signs of anyone following her. But she quickly realized no one was. She walked down the Hill and into Hobbiton. Lobelia began to wonder where she was as very little of what she saw looked familiar. There was some sort of building with dark heavy smoke lumbering out of its chimney. The smoke barely rose while everything near to the place was covered with greasy feeling soot. There were no autumn flowers. There were no autumn leaves for the trees were all dead upon the ground. Everywhere she looked there was tacked up a long list of rules. The paper they were on was grimy and the rules severe. She couldn’t believe it all. Enough was enough! Whatever Lotho thought he was doing, he had gone much too far. It was high time her worm of a son came out of that office. Lobelia turned toward Bag End. She walked through what had been the Party Field. The tree lay dead upon the ground.

Lobelia was nearly at Bag End’s door when she heard, then saw, a wagon full of rowdy Men, lumber, and tools coming up the lane. Lobelia headed right for them. Widow Rumble, Daddy and Dimm Twofoot watched as Mistress Lobelia walked right up to the cart.

*"Where be you a-going?" she yelled up at them.

"To Bag End."  .

"What for?"

"To put up some sheds for Sharkey."

"Who said you could?"

"Sharkey.  So get out o' the road, old hagling"*

Sharkey was it! Lobelia had had quite enough of Mr. Sharkey. He was destroying her home and the town. He was destroying the whole Shire for all she knew. He had said, that first day at Bag End, that he was Lotho’s buyer from the south, and the supplier of the Men who worked for him. She thought of the wagon load of hobbits with their beaten faces. She remembered the look on old Gamgee’s face as he went into his privy-house sized shack. She wondered how long these ruffians had been doing this Sharkey’s bidding. Lotho would hear about this, but first she would tend to these hooligans

*"I’ll give you Sharkey, you dirty thieving ruffians!"* She yelled as she raised the point of her umbrella and rushed at the largest of the lot. They laughed as he grabbed her about her ample middle. They laughed as they tied her hands behind her. They laughed as they continued to Bag End, emptied the supplies from the wagon, tossed Lobelia Sackville-Baggins in, then began her trip to the Lockholes.

Lotho Sackville-Baggins would never know what happened to his mother. He never even knew she was gone.

*taken from "The Scouring of the Shire", ROTK