24. The Fortress

“I don’t know,” said Prince Folcomir doubtfully. “Isn’t it awfully small?”

“It is,” sighed Captain Frodomir, narrowing his blue eyes thoughtfully. “But we can’t really do any better by ourselves, can we?”

Steward Fredemir kicked disdainfully at the wall of branches that sat propped up against the stump. “If anybody else comes along, we could ask them to help us,” suggested the third Man.

“Good idea, Fatty!” exclaimed Prince Folcomir, grey eyes sparkling. “We’ll keep a lookout, but what should we do in the meantime?”

“That’s Steward Fredemir to you, Prince!” replied Fredemir with dignity.

“A thousand apologies, my lord,” said Prince Folcomir with a ridiculous little bow. The other two Men giggled at his performance.

“I don’t know what we can do about our fortress,” Frodomir said finally, “but perhaps while we await someone to help us rebuild it, we ought to have a feast!”

“A fine idea, Captain!” Prince Folcomir proclaimed with a dramatic sweep of his arm. “But, er, I don’t believe the three of us will fit in our fortress all at once just now.”

Steward Fredemir bent down to peer into the tiny space between the branches and the stump. “Certainly not,” was his verdict.

“All right, then,” Captain Frodomir said, looking around the small clearing they were standing in. “Let’s have our feast out here in the, ah, courtyard!”

“What in Middle Earth is a courtyard, Frodo?” Steward Fredemir asked with a laugh.

Captain Frodomir shrugged. “I think it’s rather like a garden.”

“Perfect,” said Prince Folcomir briskly. “Let’s get to it, then!”

“What do Men eat?” Steward Fredemir asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Captain Frodomir replied. “Wild boars and things, I suppose.”

The three boys looked around for inspiration. “Where are we going to find a good wild boar, Frodo?” sighed Folco.

“How about that little log?” suggested Frodo. Folco nodded decisively and helped Frodo drag their ‘boar’ into the centre of the clearing. All three boys had promptly forgotten their Mannish names, now that they had a task to do.

Fatty’s face fell. “Oh, I thought the boar would be something we could eat!”

Frodo laughed. “Well, when we go home for tea, we can bring some food back with us to make our feast! Let’s just use the log for now, until we’ve made the fortress bigger.”

Folco Boffin grinned at his friend. Frodo’s legendary imagination was downright unhobbitlike, but he certainly was fun to play with. They had been in the woods behind the Hill since luncheon, playing at being Men and trying to build a fort to defend against any invading armies that might be hanging about.

“Oi! Someone’s coming!” Fatty exclaimed, putting down his armful of branches. They had begun gathering more sticks and fallen branches, hoping that they would be able to make a bigger fortress before it was time to go home.

Folco and Frodo paused in their own gathering to look up. Two lasses were coming down the path, sure enough.

“It’s only my sisters,” Folco said dismissively. “Petunia! Celosia!” he called to them.

The girls stopped and looked around, then waved when they saw the three boys in the clearing. Petunia was sixteen, six years younger than Folco, and Celosia was thirteen.

“What are you lads up to?” Petunia called.

“We’re building a fortress!” replied Folco. “You know,” he murmured to Frodo, “They’re not terribly girly, and they might help us if we asked.”

Frodo raised his eyebrows at that and looked curiously toward the path. “Want to help?” he called to the girls.

Petunia and Celosia glanced at each other. “All right,” Celosia said, and the two made their way over.

The three lads showed the girls their tiny fort and explained what they wanted to do.

“The ground is pretty soft here,” Petunia said thoughtfully, poking it with her toe. “We could make an awfully good fort by digging the sticks into the dirt so they stand up on their own, instead of leaning them against the stump. They’re nearly as tall as we are, after all.”

Fatty gasped. “Why didn’t we think of that!”

“’Cause you’re not lasses!” Celosia piped up, nodding imperiously.

“I think perhaps we ought to make her a Princess,” Frodo said under his breath, winking at Folco.

Folco rolled his eyes. “Don’t encourage her,” he replied with a grin.

The five children set to work, determined to build the biggest and most impressive fort ever conceived by Hobbiton children. Soon they had an impressive pile of branches assembled; they decided where the walls of the ‘fortress’ should go, and Fatty traced out the lines with one foot.

In short order, branches were being poked into the ground along the lines, and Folco began to imagine what a grand fort this would be when it was finished. They had set the boundaries almost to the edge of the approximately ten-foot diameter clearing; even with five hobbits working, it seemed impossible they would be able to finish this afternoon.

Folco glanced surreptitiously at Frodo, carrying another branch across the clearing. When he and Fatty had come to Bag End earlier to see if Frodo could play, Bilbo had made them promise to bring his nephew directly home if he showed any signs of tiring. Folco took the responsibility seriously; he was two years older than Frodo and five years older than Fatty. He knew how ill Frodo had been, although his friend did not seem inclined to discuss the matter. In any case, it was a warm afternoon in spring, the sun was shining, and Frodo seemed energetic and cheerful thus far.

The first wall was nearly half done when the hobbitlings heard more footsteps on the path. Folco looked up curiously. If it were more children approaching, perhaps they could be convinced to help with the fort.

Frodo looked up too, and smiled when he saw the newcomers. “Hullo, Hamson and Halfred!” he called out.

The two tweenagers halted and looked around in surprise. The clearing was partly hidden from the path by trees.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Frodo!” the older one said when they spotted the children in the clearing.

Folco regarded the tweenagers with interest. He recognized them as the eldest children of Bilbo’s gardener, Hamfast Gamgee, although he had never met them; the Boffins were gentry, like the Bagginses and Bolgers. Still, the prospect of more help for the ‘fortress’ was impossible to ignore, and Folco was always eager to meet new hobbitlings.

“D’you think they’d like to join us?” Folco whispered to Frodo hopefully.

Frodo looked back at him in pleased surprise. “They might at that! I shall ask.”

Fatty overheard their whispered conversation and glared at them disapprovingly.

Frodo hesitantly put down his branch and went over to the Gamgees. “We’re building a fort,” he began. “We could use your help, if you—if you’d care to join us?”

The younger Gamgee, who looked to be about Folco’s age, nodded eagerly. “Come on, Ham!” he said to his reluctant brother. Petunia and Celosia looked up hopefully when they heard that more helpers might be in the offing.

“We’ll be glad ta help, Mr. Frodo, if you and your friends’ll have us,” Hamson Gamgee said at last, perhaps succumbing to the combined effect of hopeful stares from Frodo, Folco, the lasses, and his own brother.

Petunia and Celosia cheered. Frodo introduced the Gamgees to the others, and they all got down to work with renewed vigour. The only one who didn’t seem pleased by the new additions was Fatty, who continued to scowl disapprovingly at Frodo and Folco.

Folco sighed when Frodo quietly asked if he knew what was the matter with the normally easy-going Fatty. “I guess you haven’t been in Hobbiton long enough to find out, Frodo, but Bolgers are known to be rather snobbish toward certain folks.” Folco shifted awkwardly. “Don’t worry, though. Fatty can be a bit of a dunderhead sometimes, but he wouldn’t do anything rude.”

Frodo gazed uncomfortably at Fatty for a moment, but then shrugged and looked down. “Well, perhaps he’ll change his mind when he sees how much help the Gamgees will be.”

Folco smiled and picked up a discarded branch. “Don’t let him worry you, Captain Frodomir,” he said. “Just get us as many helpers as you can, so we can build the best fortress that Men have ever seen!”

“Yes, Prince Folcomir, your highness,” Frodo said with an impish grin, and went back to work.

Within an hour, a group of Twofoot and Gamgee hobbitlings from Bagshot Row had wandered by and been recruited by the enthusiastic fort-builders, with one notable exception. Fatty stiffly informed the group that he was expected at home, and departed. However, Folco and Frodo soon forgot their friend’s unsociable behaviour in the excitement of the newest arrivals.

Sappy and Hobby Twofoot, along with their sister Holly, were rather astounded to see two nearly-complete walls of branches standing in the small clearing, and were easily persuaded to join the fun.

May Gamgee demurred at first, being rather shy around so many gentlehobbits. However, once her admired elder brothers emerged from the woods where they had been collecting more sticks, May’s desire to see this impressive fort completed overcame her reservations. Daisy Gamgee, on the other hand, did not require much convincing; the only obstacle in her path, after Frodo reluctantly invited her to join in, was to cease giggling long enough to agree.

Petunia and Celosia took to Holly, Daisy, and May right away, and the five lasses were soon chattering away happily.

Folco and Frodo were standing near the path soon after when two little lads happened by. Folco stared at them when they paused to gape at the rapidly growing fort through a space in the bushes. They each looked about twelve years old, and wore plain clothing that suggested their families were not wealthy. One had sandy-coloured hair, the other a golden brown. What surprised Folco, however, was that each little face and pair of hands was covered in dark, sticky-looking purple stains.

“Why, Sam Gamgee!” exclaimed Frodo, stepping forward. “Whatever have you been up to?”

“Mr. Frodo!” the sandy-haired child said delightedly, finally noticing Frodo and Folco standing slightly concealed beside the path. “Oh—well, we were pickin’ blackberries, if you take my meaning, sir.”

“And eating them as well, it would seem,” Folco put in, trying not to laugh. He realized that this little sprout must be another of the Gamgee children. Sam shrugged in embarrassment, but grinned at Folco.

Frodo walked up to the children and bent down slightly to address them. “Your brothers and sisters are here, Sam, and we’re building a fortress in the clearing here. Would you and your friend like to help us?”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Frodo!” Sam gasped, then looked at his companion. During this exchange, the other child had been staring, slightly open-mouthed, at the silver buttons on Frodo’s waistcoat. “Wouldn’t ye like to, Tom?” Sam prompted his friend.

“Yes... yes!” said Tom, finally coming to his senses.

Frodo looked curiously at Tom, then smiled at Sam and politely introduced him to Folco. “Folco, may I present Samwise Gamgee. Sam, this is Folco Boffin.”

Folco grinned and gave a short bow, which the flustered Samwise attempted to return. “Oh, forgive me, sirs!” the child exclaimed, recalling his manners suddenly. “Mr. Frodo Baggins and Mr. Folco Boffin, I’d like ta introduce Tom Cotton.”

Folco and Frodo both bowed, and Frodo said, “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Tom.”

Tom turned red to the tips of his pointed ears and seemed unable to find his tongue, but Frodo took pity on him and ended the moment by taking a sticky little hand in each of his and leading the children into the clearing. Hamson and Halfred took charge of the dirty newcomers and showed them how to take the big sticks off the pile and place them in the earth to add to the neat row that would soon be the fort’s third wall.

Once Sam and Tom were happily at work, the older lads decided to search the edges of the clearing again for more branches. Halfred soon pointed out that they were no longer finding very many; they agreed to split up and search further afield. The lasses showed no sign of ending their conversation, so they were left in the clearing with the youngest lads.

In the woods, Frodo and Folco began walking in the same direction, a few feet apart. They paused within sight of the clearing and began scanning the ground for fallen branches.

Folco laughed when he saw Frodo cast a suspicious glance back at the cluster of girls in the clearing. “Don’t look so worried, Frodo!” Folco said. “Lasses are silly when they get together.”

“When they’re all by themselves, as well,” Frodo muttered, then jumped when a burst of giggling erupted from the clearing. “Look at them! Why do they all stare at me so?”

“Come now, you’re simply being paranoid,” Folco said in amusement. “Maybe if you had sisters, you’d be used to their—”

“Turn around and see for yourself,” Frodo said, then bent down to pick up a branch, hiding a blush.

Folco turned quickly to look back at the clearing. The giggling was only now dying down, and Folco was quite astonished to realize that the lasses did indeed appear to be staring at Frodo.

“Heavens,” murmured Folco. “I wonder what that could be about?”

“Well, I shan’t stand here all day!” Frodo exclaimed, straightening up. “I’m going to keep going. If you want to continue in this direction, I’ll head toward the main road and loop back to the fort.”

“A fine plan!” Folco agreed, and continued on his way, quickly losing sight of Frodo as the distance between them increased.