25. Lessons in Loyalty

Lotho Sackville-Baggins was bored. It was that maddening part of the afternoon; well after luncheon, but still an hour or two away from tea time. Lotho was sitting in his room, at his desk in fact, but he was not reading; he was twirling an apple in his hands and scowling into space. The tweenager had received his education from all the best tutors, of course, but he had little use for scholarly pursuits.

Putting his feet up on the desk, Lotho leaned back and threw the apple against the far wall. It made a gratifying thump and fell to the floor, leaving a dirty mark on the paint. Lotho grunted in satisfaction; the thought that Ted would have to repaint that wall brought a smile to his face.

Leaving the apple on the floor, Lotho got up and stretched. His room was large and opulently decorated, but he sought more interesting amusements. He shrugged on his newest silk waistcoat and wandered out into the parlour. Otho was smoking his pipe, as usual, and listening to Lobelia bemoan their unlucky circumstances, also as usual, while she rearranged the little gold-and-crystal figurines on the mantel.

“I’m going out!” he called on his way to the front door of Sack Top. “Is Sandyman about today?” He planned to wander around town and see what he could get up to, but he wanted Ted with him in case any especially good opportunities for amusement presented themselves. Ted worked most days in his father’s mill, but did chores around Sack Top perhaps three afternoons a week.

“Wait a moment, darling,” Lobelia cooed, coming into the hall. Lotho halted obediently and waited as Lobelia adjusted his sleeve. “You look so handsome in that lovely green waistcoat, dearest,” she sighed happily.

Lotho grinned, although he hardly needed to hear such statements of the obvious. “Thanks, Ma,” he replied nonetheless.

“Ted is giving the front fence a new coat of paint,” Lobelia said, stepping back to admire her big, strapping son. “And mind you don’t give old Mad Baggins an excuse to turn us out in the cold, dear, if you should happen to run into that Bucklander brat of his.”

Lotho smirked. “Don’t worry, Ma,” he said, and stepped outside into the bright afternoon sunshine. Lobelia was referring to the possibility that Bilbo Baggins would call in their debts if any of them harmed Frodo. Lotho’s smirk remained firmly on his face as he scanned the garden for Ted. He would have to be careful to avoid that eventuality, of course, but his Bucklander cousin had caused Lotho to receive a humiliating punishment last Yule, and Lotho would relish any opportunity to have some more fun with the little rat.

“Oi! Ted!” Lotho snapped, finally spotting the object of his search. “Put that brush down. I’m going for a walk on this fine day, and you’re coming!”

Ted scowled and looked away. “Mistress Lobelia wanted this fence finished, sir,” he said irritably.

Lotho knew perfectly well that Ted disliked him; he simply didn’t care. Devoting a moment’s thought to the feelings of a mere servant was beyond half-witted, in Lotho’s mind. In any case, Ted’s family needed the money from Ted’s chores too badly for Ted to want to slight him; he knew Ted had no choice but to obey.

Lotho grinned. Ted could usually be counted upon for some entertainment. “Don’t be insolent to me, Sandyman!” he said, enjoying the surly expression on Ted’s face. “Now get up, I said.”

Ted Sandyman was a rather boorish young fellow who liked to talk more than was good for him, that much was certain. But as long as Ted took care never to talk about Lotho, it mattered not at all.

Ted sighed and tossed his paintbrush into the jar of white paint. He got slowly to his feet and followed Lotho down the walk. Lotho frowned, irritated that Ted wasn’t more deferential in his manners. But no matter; he supposed it was the obedience that was the important thing.

Frodo bent down to pick up another fallen branch. This one was quite sturdy-looking, and about the right length for the fort. He added it to the pile in his arms and looked around. Frodo had been searching nearly twenty minutes now, and he had about all he could carry.

The blue-eyed hobbit adjusted his grip on his load and took a few steps into the woods. He had been searching at the edge of a meadow near a road, perhaps a ten-minute walk from the fort. He had passed Hamson and Halfred a few minutes ago, and both were headed back to rejoin the others. Frodo sighed. He reckoned it was time for him to head back, as well. The fort was nearly finished, and it was almost time for tea. Besides, he was feeling rather weary, and he had promised Bilbo he wouldn’t overtire himself.

Just then, Frodo tripped over a protruding root and sent all his branches flying. “Oh, no,” the young tween moaned, rubbing the toe he’d stubbed. Frodo sighed in exasperation and began picking up his fallen sticks. He became so engrossed in his task that he failed to notice he was no longer alone.

“Hullo again, Bucklander,” a cold, sneering voice said.

Frodo froze, then straightened up slowly and turned around. Lotho the Loathsome, of course.. “Hullo, Lotho,” he said grimly, surmising by the expression on Lotho’s face that his cousin was in a fouler mood even than usual. Frodo felt relieved that the older hobbit was at least alone; Lotho must have been walking on the road and spotted him at the edge of the meadow.

Lotho folded his arms and grinned nastily down at Frodo. “I’ve been hoping to run into you, Cousin,” he said. “You got me into quite a spot of trouble with my parents, you know.”

“I don’t see how the responsibility is mine,” Frodo replied, watching Lotho warily.

Another hobbit came running up the road then, and Frodo wasn’t much surprised to see it was Ted Sandyman.

“Mr. Lotho!” Ted exclaimed, coming toward them and looking apprehensively from Frodo to Lotho.

“Glad you caught up, Ted,” Lotho said, not taking his eyes off Frodo. “It would have gone ill for you if you’d arrived too late to help me.”

Frodo’s heart sank. Lotho had a strange gleam in his eye that told Frodo he was in trouble; Bilbo had said Lotho wouldn’t harm him again, but Frodo was beginning to have his doubts. He had done Ted a good turn last month, and caught carnelian fever in the process, but he somehow knew that the miller’s son would not go against Lotho. Should he make a run for it?

Lotho advanced slowly toward Frodo, and Frodo backed up reluctantly, knowing he was outnumbered.

“It’s all your fault, you little rat,” Lotho snarled. “I thought I taught you a lesson last Yule, but you went and set your old fool of an uncle on us, didn’t you! It’s your fault Mad Baggins made my parents punish me!”

“I did no such thing,” Frodo said firmly. “What has it to do with me if your parents punish you?”

“Everything,” Lotho shouted angrily. “As if you didn’t make enough trouble by conning the old fool into adopting you! I think I need to teach you another lesson, you little monster!”

Frodo set his jaw at the comment about his adoption. He wouldn’t let any Sackville-Baggins, or anyone else for that matter, make him doubt Bilbo again. He had promised, after all.

Lotho continued to advance, and Frodo continued to step back. He had just made up his mind to turn and run for it when he backed into a tree, trapping him in front of Lotho long enough for the older hobbit to grab him by his shirt collar and slam him against the partly moss-covered bark. Frodo cried out when Lotho lifted him several inches off the ground, forcing Frodo to clutch at Lotho’s hands to keep the pressure off his neck.

“Release me at once!” Frodo got out, but Lotho laughed at his cousin’s discomfort, clearly enjoying himself now that he had the upper hand.

“Mr. Lotho,” Frodo heard Ted say reluctantly. “You mustn’t! Mistress Lobelia will be so angry; you know what she said about Mr. Frodo!”

“Shut your mouth, Ted,” Lotho snapped. “You’re stupider than a stone. Now come over here and hold his arms!”

Ted shifted uncomfortably, but made no move to approach. “I—I can’t do that,” he said, avoiding Frodo’s eyes as well as Lotho’s. “I’ve gotta go, Mr. Lotho.”

“Don’t you dare,” Lotho warned, but Ted was already turning to flee.

Frodo struggled against the rough bark, trying in vain to kick Lotho. “Help me!” he implored Ted’s departing figure, but Ted merely hunched his shoulders irritably and went on.

Lotho grinned. “No one’s going to help you, brat. You should’ve gone back to Buckland when I gave you the chance.” Frodo renewed his efforts to reach the ground with his feet, or at least to give Lotho a good kick, but it was hopeless. He wasn’t strong enough to shake Lotho’s grasp.

A crackle of underbrush somewhere behind the tree alerted Frodo that another hobbit was approaching, and he craned his neck to see. Lotho’s grip on his collar loosened slightly as the older hobbit turned his head to look, too, and Frodo slid down a few inches against the trunk of the tree, the rough bark digging uncomfortably into his back.

Frodo sagged in sudden relief. It was none other than Hamson Gamgee. Hamson was twenty-eight, the same age as Lotho, and easily the same size. Lotho wouldn’t dare hurt him in front of Hamson, would he?

Frodo’s eyes widened in surprise as Hamson stepped forward. The gentle, even-tempered gardener’s son gazed at Frodo briefly in surprise and concern, and then turned his brown eyes on Lotho in a way Frodo had never seen before. He looked... well, threatening. Frodo knew that Hamson was fiercely protective of his younger siblings, but he had certainly never thought to see that expression of wrath used on Frodo’s own behalf.

“Let Mr. Frodo go, you hear?” Hamson said. The words were spoken quietly.

“This is none of your concern, Gamgee,” Lotho spat, with a contemptuous glance at Hamson’s plain, homespun shirt and trousers.

“I’m afeared I can’t agree, sir,” Hamson said in that same quiet, dangerous voice. He took another step toward where Lotho held Frodo against the tree. “Now let him go.”

“This brat needs a lesson, and I’m going to give it to him,” Lotho retorted, tightening his grip on Frodo’s collar and pinning him forcefully to the huge trunk once again. “This little maggot is no more than a common Bucklander pretending to be a Baggins. His parents drowned each other in a river and left their worthless son to burden their relations.” Lotho grinned at Hamson’s shocked expression. “None of your concern, as I said.”

Frodo squirmed uselessly against the tree, clutching at Lotho’s hands and fighting to see through the boiling rage that tunnelled his vision. Lotho had told an appalling and despicable lie about Frodo’s parents, but now Hamson would surely leave in disgust.

A moment later, Frodo watched with astonished fascination as a pair of strong, work-roughened hands came up and clamped firmly around Lotho’s wrists. Frodo didn’t even realize how hard Hamson was squeezing until Lotho gasped in pain and let go his hold on Frodo.

Hamson caught Frodo before the younger hobbit could fall to the ground, and pulled him by the elbow a few steps away. Frodo tugged his collar back into place and struggled to steady his breathing. There was a giddy feeling of safety with Hamson’s hand still grasping his arm reassuringly; Frodo wondered if this was how it felt to have an elder brother.

“How dare you?” Lotho exclaimed in flustered humiliation, clutching his sore wrists. “I—I wasn’t really going to hurt him, you cretin! He just needed a good scare.”

“I don’t reckon he needed either,” Hamson said coolly.

Lotho’s fists clenched as he moved toward Hamson. Frodo quickly found himself pushed back another step when Hamson stepped nearly in front of him. For a moment it looked like Lotho might try to grab him again, despite the warning in Hamson’s eyes, but then another hobbit walked quietly out of the woods.

Halfred Gamgee took in the scene for a moment. His normally cheerful face slowly set in a grim scowl, and he went to stand beside his brother and Frodo. Hamson gave Frodo’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and Frodo drew a deep breath, knowing that Lotho would still seek to do as much damage as he could.

Lotho folded his arms, furious at the interference. He surveyed Frodo and the two Gamgees with mounting resentment; his lip curled in disgust when he saw Halfred shoot a worried glance at Frodo.

“I’ve never seen a sorrier lot than the three of you,” Lotho drawled. “This miserable excuse for a Baggins. And two nasty, dirty rustic simpletons who don’t know their place, and whose parents have more worthless spawn than they can afford!”

Hamson and Halfred tensed, and Frodo felt wretched for them. “Hold your tongue, and keep your vile thoughts to yourself!” Frodo said furiously, blue eyes blazing. He knew his cousin well enough by now to realize that Lotho was as quick with his tongue as with his fists and would get much pleasure from insulting the Gamgees, who were far too well-mannered to respond in kind.

“What’s the matter, Cousin?” Lotho sneered. “Haven’t you any friends besides your dirt-grubbing servants?”

“They’re not my servants,” Frodo said evenly, fixing Lotho with an icy blue glare. “And I should be honoured if they considered me a friend.”

Lotho grinned nastily. “All right, Bucklander. What did you pay these two to protect you, then?”

Frodo stared at the smirking tweenager, completely flabbergasted. Did Lotho think Frodo had bribed the Gamgees to defend him?

Hamson answered for him. “Mr. Frodo paid us nothing, an’ he owes us nothing, if ye take my meaning,” the older lad said with quiet dignity. “We’d best be on our way now.” The tweenager gently turned Frodo toward the woods before Lotho could reply. Halfred moved to follow.

Frodo glanced back only once as he and the Gamgees were swallowed up amongst the trees. Lotho was standing still in the meadow, looking honestly baffled by Hamson’s words.

Hamson herded them along for a few minutes, but they stopped to rest once they were deep in the woods. No one said anything for a long moment.

“I must thank you both for your kindness,” Frodo said quietly.

Hamson and Halfred looked up in surprise. “That ain’t necessary, Mr. Frodo,” Hamson said gently.

“It is,” Frodo disagreed. “And I apologize for Lotho’s shameful insults to your family.”

“That’s not your fault at all!” Halfred exclaimed, and Hamson nodded in agreement.

“He is my cousin,” Frodo said dryly. “I feel somewhat responsible.”

“I can scarce believe you’re even related,” Halfred muttered.

Frodo slowly grinned at this, feeling oddly pleased.

“We oughta get back to the fort,” Hamson said presently. “I reckon it must be nearly finished by now.”

The fort was indeed nearly finished when the three lads returned. The Twofoots seemed to have already gone, as well as the Gamgee lasses; the remaining girls were off playing by themselves, but Folco, Sam, and Tom were putting the last branches of the fourth wall in place.

“Well, and about time!” Folco called when he saw them. “Say, didn’t you three find any more branches?” He stared incredulously at their empty arms.

“Of course we did!” Frodo replied. “But we, er... lost track of them.” Hamson arched an amused eyebrow at him, and Halfred snorted.

Folco looked puzzled for a moment, but then shrugged. “No matter. Those Twofoot lads gathered practically enough to build a whole other fort before they up and ran off. Look, we’re done! I told the little ones to leave that gap there; I figured we might want a door.”

Sam emerged from the ‘door’ just then and ran over to join them. He wrapped his small brown arms around Halfred’s legs. “Don’t it look just like a Men’s castle, Mr. Frodo?” he said, looking at Frodo with shining brown eyes.

Frodo smiled and surveyed the uneven rows of sticks poking out of the ground, forming a rough square in the clearing. “I feel sure it does, Samomir,” he said firmly. “Shall we go inside?”

Sam giggled in delight at Frodo’s use of his Mannish name and led the others into the fort to join Tom. Frodo was glad when Hamson and Halfred didn’t comment on the odd name; he had avoided reference to playing Men once so many others had arrived to join himself, Folco and Fatty. He was afraid Hamson and Halfred were too old for make-believe, and he hadn’t wanted to involve the lasses, wishing to hide the fact that he didn’t know any Mannish names for ladies.

“You’ve got moss in your hair, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said suddenly, staring at the back of Frodo’s head.

“Oh! Have I?” Frodo said. He supposed that was from the tree trunk Lotho had held him against.

“You mustn’t go home like that, sir,” Sam said matter-of-factly, and started to briskly comb the offending plant matter out of Frodo’s dark curls with his fingers. “Master Bilbo would be right horrified.”

“Well, you know best, Sam,” Frodo said with a smile.

Folco laughed, but Sam merely nodded firmly and finished brushing the moss from Frodo’s hair.

“You’re more than a mite filthy yourself, Sam-lad,” Hamson commented as the six lads came out of the fort and made ready to go home. “You’d better go dust yourself off afore the Gaffer sees you! And don’t dawdle; we’ve still to take Tom home for his tea.”

“I can do that,” Folco offered. “The Cotton farm isn’t far off my way. That all right with you, Tom?”

Tom nodded eagerly.

Folco took the child’s hand and looked at Frodo. “Are you coming back after tea, Frodo?”

Frodo started to nod, but then changed his mind. “I’d better not,” he said, realizing suddenly how exhausted he was. This was the first time he had stayed out all afternoon since his illness, and he already felt weary enough to go to bed.

“Right,” Folco said, and waved cheerfully as he set off with Tom. Hamson and Frodo waited on the path while Halfred dragged Sam off to shake out his clothes.

Frodo watched thoughtfully as Hamson leaned against a tree to wait for his brothers. “I shall miss you when you move to Tighfield, Hamson,” the younger hobbit said.

Hamson looked up and smiled warmly at Frodo. “It’s been a right honour to know you, sir,” he said simply. “An’ I hope you’re aware, Mr. Frodo, that if you ever have need o’ help, you may call on any of us Gamgees.”

Frodo, feeling quite flustered, could only bow in reply to such a compliment.

A slightly less dusty Sam and a slightly more dusty Halfred rejoined them at that moment. “You look awful tired, Mr. Frodo,” Sam exclaimed worriedly, taking the older lad’s hand and tugging him along. “We must get ye home ta rest!” Frodo followed obligingly.

“...and especially Samwise,” Hamson grinned, adding to his earlier statement, and Frodo laughed. They were extraordinary, these Gamgees.