Frances Barrat's Fanfiction Page 5 -Burying The Past-

-BURYING THE PAST- by Frances Barratt Part 1 Two carts set out from the Brandybuck annexe, both fully-laden. The capacity of each was six fully-grown hobbits and as there were eight of the Gamgees, one at least had to leave their kin. Frodo requested that it be Sam. Seeing the broad grin on the apprentice-gardener's face was sufficient reward for solving the matter and Frodo welcomed his friend, offering the space beside him and Jess. On the opposite side of the cart, Bilbo sat alongside Halfred and Jade Goodchild and none of them was in too congenial a disposition. Sam attempted to remedy that. "We ought to sing a traveling song," he suggested. Frodo smiled warmly at his friend and nodded. "You begin, Sam and we'll all join in." He squeezed Jess's hand. "You probably know the words better than I," he said to her. "Mister Bilbo knows a good many songs," she prompted, eyeing the scowling hobbit with purpose on her face. "A belated greeting to you, sir," she added resourcefully. Bilbo Baggins twitched; his fingers picked nervously at the edge of his waistcoat -- red, as were many in his wardrobe -- the points of his ears tried to take off in different directions whilst his mouth puckered, whether readying to chastise the maid or break out in a smile, wasn't apparent. Then, his right hand raised and one finger aimed at Jess. "Flattery will get you..." He sighed. "Bah! Young folk today! Go on then; we'll sing of the dragon." "Ooh, good!" Sam exclaimed with childlike exuberance. And so Bilbo led his company in the ballad of Smaug. In the other cart, the Gamgee clan joined in each chorus, their voices raising in pitch after each of the many verses. Frodo soon learned the chorus line, though he was unfamiliar with the run of the actual verses. The time passed and no one seemed to notice or care. When the mill and bridge of Hobbiton finally came into view, Frodo suddenly realised that Jess had fallen asleep against his shoulder. Gently, he took her into the crook of his arm and brushed tendrils of hair out of her eyes. Jade Goodchild shot across to her daughter. "Jess?" she called, shaking the girl. "Gently, Mistress," Frodo protested. "You'll startle her." "She's not simply sleeping!" the frightened mother told him. "What do you..?" "She's right, Frodo," Sam agreed and he slid to his knees in front of his cousin. Holding Jess by the shoulders, Frodo looked intently at her; she wasn't about to waken so he shook her. "Jess, wake up!" he demanded. Halfred stood up. "I'll take her if you don't mind," he said, reaching down to gather his daughter away from her sweetheart. "No! I'll do it," Frodo decided, swallowing hard as he gained his feet. "She's my responsibility now," he said defiantly and removed Jess from her father's embrace. Wobbling as the cart continued to trundle on, he held on fiercely. Finally, they reached Bagshot Row and the Goodchild parents were the first out of the cart. Sam leapt down and Frodo allowed his friend to guide him to the safety of the road. Only Bilbo remained seated. The second cart emptied and a small procession followed Frodo to the Goodchild home. Still Bilbo sat on his seat, but he turned to watch his young relative. The lad was beginning to stoop under the weight of the burden that he carried. Bilbo thrust a hand into his waistcoat pocket; his fingers touched something cold and hard inside, the Thing that normally brought him comfort since its discovery way back in '41 now feeling harsh and unwelcoming. Swiftly, he withdrew the hand as if he'd suddenly been stung. His eyes were drawn to the slight figure with the mop of dark curls and it was as if an icy blast blew on Bilbo Baggins, so cold the night became. A voice murmured: "She's dying," and he hardly realised it was his own. "The poor boy." Sniffing, the old hobbit crept off the cart and headed for Bag End. "Oh, Prim, where are you when you're needed?" No one took note of the crotchety old hobbit retreating to the comfort of his own spacious home; they were too engrossed in the matter before them, the matter of Jessamine Goodchild and how they were to cope in the days ahead. TO BE CONTINUED...

-BURYING THE PAST- by Frances Barratt Part 2 Fires had been stoked to add un-needed heat to the Goodchild house; it had been a comfort thing to do. Around the hearth sat Halfred and Jade with Bell and Sam Gamgee; the remainder of the Gamgees having returned to their own home with Hamfast. Sam shifted nervously on his chair and looked anxiously towards a closed door. "He's been in there ages," he said, looking at his own mother. "Mam, ought I to go in?" Bell turned her eyes towards her brother Halfred. "Hal?" she said quietly. "My lad wants to know what you'd have him do?" Dazed, the worried father raised his bleary eyes to engage his sister's. "What?" "Sam asks if he should send Frodo out here?" "What's the point?" He stood up and gazed into the roaring fire. "This is a bit fierce, Jade," he commented. "I'll douse it with some water,." and he wandered to the front door. No one called for him to halt. "I'll see if Frodo needs anything," Sam volunteered and he scurried to Jess's room. The two females were left and they just stared at each other; words not being necessary in the circumstances. One mother of several pitied the one who only had one child and was near to losing her. Bell Gamgee couldn't imagine the torment assailing her sister-in-law; her brood were all strong and healthy and she blessed her luck in that regard. What manner of Fate would demand the sacrifice of an only child? It was a question that perhaps only the Wise could answer; Wizards or Elves knew the nature of the world, but there were none to ask... Sam crept into his cousin's room to see Frodo sitting with his back to the door, head bowed forward. "Mister Frodo, can I bring you anything?" he said softly. Frodo stirred but didn't look around. "No, thank you, Sam." "They've sent for the physician," Sam informed. "Why?" The question was unexpected. "I don't know; but they always do." Frodo's head turned. He looked up at Sam. "Always?" "Yes." "Then there's hope -- isn't there?" Sam couldn't answer; he was as emotionally involved as anyone within the burrow. "Sam?" Frodo held out a hand to his friend; he needed some solid reassurance at that moment. Walking up to the bedside, Sam sat down on it and gave a hand to Frodo. He looked at him. "I'm scared, Frodo," he admitted. "No more than I, Sam; no more than I. There is no hope -- is there?" "Not this time. She's never been asleep this long before. Hasn't she woken yet?" "No," but Frodo looked at the inert girl to be sure. "I can't bear it if we can't say goodbye..." He choked on the thought. "Sam..." and he grasped firmly onto the labourer's hand. The comfort gained was to add weight to the friendship of these two young hobbits; a friendship that would appear indestructable. Only death could separate them. The three adults entered the room to find the lads holding hands in vigil beside Jess. Neither acknowledged the presence of their elders. It was Bell who spoke to break the silence. "Sam, bring Frodo into the parlour, the physician is here." The fairer-haired of the two gasped and looked around. "Mam, did you speak?" "Yes, my lad. You must bring Frodo into the parlour -- quickly now." "He ought to be allowed to stay," Sam argued. Bell looked kindly on her generously-natured son. "Just for a moment," she reasoned. "He's waiting for Jess to say goodbye; you can't make him leave her now!" Mistress Gamgee viewed her son with pride; he displayed an unswerving loyalty to young Frodo Baggins and a strong friendship that took no account of the class structure amongst the hobbits. "Very well, Frodo can stay with her." She sighed. "But you must come out, Sam." "Why? She's my cousin but we've always been more like brother and sister." He stared his mother squarely in the eyes and saw the tears flood hers. Bell nodded; turned and left, closing the door behind her. There stood the physician and she asked why he'd come. "Where there's life there's hope," he replied smartly. "Not always," and she hurried to the fire. Suddenly, the world had gone cold. TO BE CONTINUED...

Sam and Frodo are concerned  about Jessamine Goodchild

-BURYING THE PAST- by Frances Barratt Part 3 Frodo watched unblinking as the physician looked for signs of life in Jess. His normally-bright eyes followed every movement with detachment; it was as if he watched some morbid mummers' play. When the healer sighed heavily though, it alerted something within Frodo and harsh reality caved in. "What is it?" he asked. "What is what?" the physician snarled. "The nature of the illness? How to cure it? Will she live? I've heard these questions far too often and the answers still elude me." He rounded on Frodo. "They all took the word of that... that itinerant Elf and doomed the lass to a life of rigid discipline!" He sniffed in disgust. "What do Elves know of Hobbits, hm? They see a sickness and proclaim that it will kill! Hmph! If they had listened to me..." and he shook his head in despair. "Go on," Frodo said. "What? Ah; I told them she ought to be allowed to do the things any normal child would do. Force the sickness out! Bully it to leave!" he said vigorously. "Instead, she was allowed to wither away; shut away from all the things that hobbits love," he said with sadness. "Hardly; Jess visited her uncle at Bucklebury Ferry for as far back as I can remember. She and I walked together across fields and sat under trees; she was happy in that though it tired her at times. Jess did not sit and wither," he argued. The physician scowled at the impudence of this young hobbit. "You're Frodo Baggins," he realised. "Ah, I've heard about you! Far too big for your breeches, so I'm told," he pronounced smugly. "Mister Frodo's only speaking the truth!" Sam defended. In his deep concern, Frodo had almost forgotten the presence of his close friend. He smiled at the young hobbit; his contempory in the age bracket. "Thank you for that, Sam. You know better than I how Jess coped with her illness. My one regret is not being able to live nearer to her." "Ar, and we know who's to blame for that!" Sam denounced. It was uncharacteristic of him to criticise but the circumstances were unusual. The physician didn't like the challenge exuding from the pair so he gathered his accoutrements and turned to leave. "Send for the Elf then!" he snapped. "If you can find her!" he added, then left the room. "Her?" Frodo questioned in surprise. "It was a long time ago," Sam replied. "We were both little things; I hardly remember; Mam might though," he added brightly. "I didn't think Elves passed through the Shire." "They do sometimes; trouble is, they never come back. I heard it said that it's a one-way trip." "The Grey Havens," Frodo murmured as if in a trance. "That'd be it!" Sam looked at Frodo. "I didn't mean to try teaching you things," he apologised. "That's alright, Sam. I'd almost forgotten; I read about it in a book Saradas had back at the Hall." He sighed. "It all seems so long ago now..." "You should've been here from the start," Sam declared. "Not my choice, Sam," Frodo said quietly. Just then, something inexplicable compelled him to look back at Jess. Her eyes were open! "Look, Sam!" he said excitedly. "She's awake at last," and he snatched both her hands into his own. "Who is the Elf?" Jess whispered. "We were just talking about her," Frodo explained. "No, not her; that one..." and her eyes wandered to a point somewhere beyond Sam. Both hobbits tried to follow Jess's line of sight; neither saw anything other than the wall of her room. Sam trotted out the obvious. "You must've seen the physician, though, he don't look much like an Elf -- not tall enough!" he grinned. "He's gone." "No; still here..." Frodo's eyes widened and he looked at Sam. "She's imagining things now," he muttered. "No, Frodo," Jess said for herself. "He's been here for a while; he's come for me, to take me sailing." "Elves don't take hobbits..." Frodo began, his eyes falling upon his sweetheart. "We never sail in ships," he told her. "He tells me there's one waiting for me." In fear and desperation, Frodo gathered Jess into his arms; she went limp in his embrace; her head slumped against his chest. "Your heart beats loudly," she whispered. "For the two of us; I share it with you," he croaked. "No, you can't take me yet! Please, leave me a moment longer!" she cried out in despair. "Frodo? Frodo, I can't see you," and her hands groped for him. "Jess?" he called out, not understanding the words that he'd heard. "I'll never leave you!" "I see now... the sails are beautiful, Frodo, I wish you could see them too." Sam crept closer. "Can't she see you, Mister Frodo?" he asked. "I... I don't think so, Sam." "Ballads will be written about Frodo Baggins," Jess prophesied. She laughed, but it was a rattling kind of sound. "But not love ballads." She coughed. Frodo felt the vibration of that cough as it ripped into his arms. He looked at the girl in his arms but her eyes had closed and she was quite still; he shook her. "Come on, my precious girl, wake up and talk to me." "Mister Frodo, she... she can't," Sam realised, his own voice fracturing in the enormity of the moment. "She'll wake in a minute," Frodo said, fully believing it -- but she never would... TO BE CONTINUED...

-BURYING THE PAST- by Frances Barratt Part 4 Sunrise on September 24th. The house in Bagshot Row slowly awoke to the harshness of the day. A small group of hobbits clustered around the narrow bed and one put out his hand to the crumpled figure sitting on the covers. "You have to let her go, Frodo," Halfred Goodchild said, his voice as shaky as the hand that caught at the lad's sleeve. "You've been here hours and... she's gone cold, lad," but the bereaved father turned away as his grief took hold of him. Frodo didn't move, he seemed frozen in his own space. Bell Gamgee stepped forward and attempted to prise Jess away from Frodo. It was a mistake. "Leave me!" he snapped at her, his dark curls bouncing about his cheeks as he swung to face the gathering. "I won't let her go, she's all I have!" "You have us," Bell said gently. "I have no one; nothing to treasure save what I hold in my arms," he declared, and drew Jess's corpse even closer, shielding her from them. "Frodo, you can't stay like this," Sam put in. "We all loved her... and we'll all miss her." Hearing his friend's voice, Frodo looked up again. Through the blur of tears even he could see that Sam too had been weeping. Then he took note of the others in the room: Bell and Hamfast Gamgee and Jade Goodchild; Halfred was nowhere to be seen. "I don't know what to do, Sam." "None of us do," Sam answered. "She took my heart and I can't get it back." "There's breakfast in the parlour," Bell announced. "Will you come and eat? I've sent a message to Esmeralda Brandybuck; she'll like as not be here later today, then you can decide what to do." "I'm not hungry," Frodo said in answer to the question before posing one of his own. "Why send for Esme?" "Because she cares about you and was your guardian." "So you'll send me back to Buckland?" Bell didn't know what to say. "It seems your only option." "He don't have to go if he don't want to though -- does he, Mam?" Sam queried. "Breakfast, Sam -- we'll talk," his mother ordered, leaving the room. Bewildered, Sam looked from one to the other of the hobbits in the room. His father remained -- for the moment -- though the Gaffer appeared uncomfortable; Jade was as pale as snowdrops amidst snow and Frodo had become a statue again. It hurt too much to be there so Samwise fled -- the room and the house. Hamfast cleared his throat and approached his sister-in-law. "Come on, lass, there's living to be done and a wake to organise." He persuaded Jade to leave her daughter and had one parting message for Frodo. "She'd want you to live and be happy." Frodo bit his lip and then his thumb. "I'll never be happy again," he all but vowed. "Yes you will," the Gaffer said. "You're not like Bilbo Baggins," and he escorted Jade from the room. Pondering on the parting remark, Frodo looked one last time upon the girl in his arms. "Everything I do will be for you," he promised, "but I can't rejoice in it." He kissed her then; laid her back on the pillow and rose slowly from beside her. Steeling himself not to look back, Frodo tottered out into the Goodchild's parlour. All eyes focused on him as he scanned the room. "Where's Sam?" he asked. Bell walked up to the Orphan. "He went outside, lad," she replied. "He didn't stop for breakfast either!" but Frodo had gone. The Hill at Hobbiton looked down upon a great swathe of green and fertile land; dotted between the hedges and hilocks were the chimneys of hobbit-holes, each expelling signs of life in the smoke plumes reaching for the blue sky. Frodo caught the idyllic scene before casting his eyes around for Sam. The other lad was leaning on the wattle fencing separating the houses from the road and didn't move a muscle as Frodo walked up beside him and set a hand to his shoulder. "Sam, will you help me?" Slowly, Sam turned his head. "You know I'll do anything." "Will you walk with me to the big oak tree? It was Jess's favourite place." "I'd be... honoured." Frodo smiled weakly, slung an arm around Sam's shoulder and they set off together in silence to mourn Jessamine in their own way. TO BE CONTINUED...

Frodo mourns over Jessamines passing will he recover from  the loss of his sweetheart ? Only time will tell.

-BURYING THE PAST- By Frances Barratt Part 5 Esmeralda Brandybuck arrived in Hobbiton at nightfall; the journey had been long and emotional. She brought Meriadoc with her for moral support: her own as well as Frodo's, but the Orphan hadn't returned to Bagshot Row all day. "He can't have gone far," she reasoned, addressing the combined gathering of Goodchild's and Gamgees. "My lad's with him," Bell informed. "Then that's a good thing. He'll come home when he's hungry." "Home? Where's that now then?" Bell shot back. Mistress Brandybuck looked at her own son. "What say you, Merry?" "I'd not mind if he wanted to come back." "And if he don't?" Bell cut in. "We have to be practical, Bell; you haven't the room for a permanent house-guest and I doubt Jade could be bothered. That just leaves --" "Bag End," Bell finished. "Quite." Esme sighed. "I'll foist Merry and myself on Bilbo Baggins and tackle him once and for all about his ridiculous attitude!" she said as her anger rose. "They've got something in common now," Merry pointed out. All eyes homed in on the young Brandybuck boy. His mother smiled and nodded. "He's got a point," she said. "But we cannot worry too much tonight. Now then, where would Frodo have gone?" "Sam would know," Bell said, "but he's not here either." "And you have no ideas?" Esme queried. Bell shrugged. "They used to go walking -- when Frodo started coming here -- down by The Water; sometimes towards Overhill, though they'd never go that far." "The oak; down near Bywater Pool," Sam's voice announced. "Where is he?" Esme immediately questioned. "Still there; I came back 'cos I'm hungry," and he turned about again. "Thought you'd want to know," he muttered as he left for his own home. "There you have it," Bell said to Esme. "You're welcome to come and join us," and she glanced at Meridadoc. "Your lad too." "Thank you. Merry, you go with Mistress Gamgee; I have to find Frodo, even if it takes me all night." They trooped out; a few words were spoken between the ladies before they separated again and Esme set out to look for Frodo. She knew the general direction and a full moon gave ample light for the quest so she expected to find him easily enough. So many thoughts raced through her head as she walked; she sifted them and selected the more important ones then arranged them in order of precidence. As a group of trees came into view, she slowed down so as best to identify them. Sure enough, one was a particularly large oak -- even by Hobbit reckoning -- so she headed straight for it. Huddled between two roots was Frodo. He heard someone approaching but didn't look to see who. "Go back, Sam, I don't want any supper." "It isn't Sam," Esme said. Gasping in surprise, Frodo turned sharply, his hands reaching out to steady himself on the nearest root. "Esme! Why did they send you?" "No one sent me, I just came to look for you." She crouched beside him and studied his face. "Do you plan on sleeping out here? It won't be very comfortable -- or warm." "If I sit here, I feel as if she's still alive." "Yes -- but she's not and you can't stay here forever." "Forever; Elves live forever," and he looked down at his feet. "We're not Elves, Frodo." "No, but we are meant to live a long life." "Usually..." She sat down on the tree root. "Death is never easy to accept, no matter how old the person is, but when it's someone so young... Well, you need answers. There aren't any, Frodo." He looked up from his study of the leaves around his toes. "No?" "No." She wanted to hold him; to offer him what he most needed, even though he wasn't aware of what that was. "Remember me telling you of my own childhood sweetheart?" He nodded. "He died when he was about your age." Frodo frowned. "It was a mudslide; senseless really, he wasn't even supposed to be there." Esme swallowed. "So you see, I understand more than you think." Frodo's pain-filled eyes regarded Esme with suspicion. "Were you planning to wed too?" She shook her head. "At twenty? No, lad it wouldn't have been allowed; my father was very strict, we weren't allowed to wander as you and Jess did." "Then we were lucky." "Yes, you were. I know it's an old adage, Frodo but time really does heal. You will never forget, but with the memories the pain will lessen as time goes on. I hope you'll be as lucky as I was and find someone else." She smiled. "Saradoc was his friend you know; through our common grief we found healing -- then love." His mouth twitched. "You were lucky," he said soberly. "I think Jess and I only had one good heart between us. Now mine is shattered, I don't think it can mend sufficiently to love again." "It will if you let it." "And if I don't want to?" Esme took Frodo's face in her hands. "It will be a dreadful waste; you are capable of so much love." "Then I will love my friends -- and relatives." He clasped one of her hands. "Thank you for coming, Esme." "Will you come and eat now? Bell Gamgee has made supper." "Then what?" he asked, getting to his feet. "You leave that to me; tomorrow, I have a quest of my own," and she rose too. Together, they returned to Bagshot Row. TO BE CONTINUED...

-BURYING THE PAST- by Frances Barratt part 6 True to her word, Esmeralda 'foisted' herself and Meriadoc onto Bilbo Baggins. The bachelor was not best pleased but Esmeralda had a persuasive way with her and managed to convince her distant relative that it would be in his best interest. "I'll make you one of my special breakfasts," she bribed. "How special?" "Porridge as well as bacon, eggs and fried bread." Bilbo actually smiled and nodded agreement. "As long as you keep that boy out of my cupboards," he said, gesturing to Meriadoc. "Oh, he long grew too big to fit into cupboards!" Esme quipped. "You know what I mean." Feigning offence, she fixed Bilbo with a blistering stare. "I brought up my son to respect property!" Bilbo blushed, blustered and ignored the retort as he almost fell over his feet to welcome the pair of Brandybucks to Bag End. "I only have one room that is made up as a guest-room; the others are... well, with Jess's recent illness, Mistress Goodchild hasn't been here as regularly.." His mouth twitched when he looked at Esme. "I... I... I've been taking care of myself," he muttered. It was as if someone suddenly lit a thousand candles so bright was the dawning of fortune. Esme smiled to herself; ushered Meriadoc into the 'guest-room' and began planning on how she might best broach the subject of Frodo. But it would wait until morning, just as she'd originally planned. The night passed slowly. Esme couldn't sleep; with the combination of her son's snoring and her own busy mind, she paced the circuit of the room until dawn broke. Fatigue made her more resolute so, leaving Meriadoc to waken in his own good time, she found her way to the kitchen and began cooking breakfast. Whilst the bacon sizzled in the pan, Esme finalised her plan of action, so that when Bilbo finally shambled into the kitchen, she was more than ready. "Did you sleep well?" he asked, sitting at the table. "Not at all, since you ask," she replied, setting a plate of food in front of him. "Oh, I am sorry." He attacked the food and momentarily forgot who had cooked it. Sitting opposite Bilbo, Esme placed a rasher of bacon between two slices of bread and slowly ate the sandwich. Then came the opening gambit. "I wonder if Frodo will eat this morning," she said. "Why wouldn't he?" "The poor boy; his heart has shattered, the only comfort he has is in the memories of the lass. Of course, most of those memories are here," and she glanced slyly at Bilbo for a reaction. "Here? You mean in Hobbiton?" "Exactly! But..." and she leaned her elbows on the table. "This was her home and Frodo really has no place here... unless..." as she stared straight at Bilbo. His whole face seemed to twitch and the tips of his ears glowed. "So that's the game! Nice try, Esme but it won't work!" he said forcefully. "How do you know unless you try?" "I don't want to take in a permanent house-guest!" "Then take him on a trial basis," she reasoned. "Hasn't the boy been passed around enough since his parents died? Why can't you take him back?" A note of fear had crept into Bilbo's voice. "Because he'd rather be here -- and I do mean here: at Bag End." Bilbo didn't respond immediately. "He needs help to come to terms with his grief," Esme went on. "He'll manage," Bilbo said coldly. "You haven't," she shot back; it caught him unawares. "W-what do you mean?" "Primula. He's her son and there's so much of her in him. Is that what you're afraid of? That having him near you will open old wounds." "You are so... so devious, Esmeralda," he choked. "But the answer is still no!" and he bolted up from the table and scurried into his study. Esmeralda followed. Bilbo swung around to face the full force of a Took onslaught, for he knew only too well that those born as Tooks, remained so. "I think you've said enough," he rasped in an attempt to forestall her. "I touched a nerve," she realised. "Don't be so selfish!" "Selfish?" he spluttered. "Because I am comfortable in my own routine? Bah!" and he turned away again. "You'd hardly know he was here," she said sweetly. "I'd know!" came the sharp response. "Just talk to the lad," she pleaded. "What harm can it do?" Bilbo's shoulders slumped; slowly, his whole body inched around and he stared woefully at Esmeralda. "You ask too much," he whispered. She stepped forward and touched the old hobbit on the shoulder. "I only ask what I know is possible," she said kindly -- and smiled at him. "Frodo has become a charming, intelligent young hobbit; eager to learn... and there's much you could teach him. Tell him of your Great Adventure," she encouraged, "you tell it so much better than any of us." Deflated rather than defeated, Bilbo seemed to shrink. One hand thrust into the pocket of his waistcoat and his whole demeanour altered. Looking directly at Esme, he said: "Very well, I shall speak with the lad -- no promises mind," as he pointed with his free hand. Then -- in reflective mode, he mumbled: "I wonder how much he remembers of her?" "Not as much as you, Bilbo." "What? Oh... naturally." He cleared his throat. "Tell Sam to bring him here then -- just for a chat mind, don't go giving him ideas." "Of course not," but she smiled to herself as she left Bag End to summon Frodo. "I'll tell him you're arranging the Wake!" she called out as she closed the circular door behind her. Alone for a moment, Bilbo muttered two words: "Prim's son," before Esme's son came bounding in to break the spell. TO BE CONTINUED...

Will Frodo ever find true love again?

-BURYING THE PAST- by Frances Barratt Part 7 Meriadoc had wolfed down the remainder of the breakfast by the time his mother returned with Frodo in tow. Seeing his kinsman in such a woeful state touched Merry as he sheepishly left the food debris to offer a greeting. "Hullo, Frodo. Hungry?" Red-rimmed eyes focused unsteadily upon his Brandybuck cousin. "I couldn't eat a morsal," he said. "Tea then?" Bilbo put in, appearing at the entrance to the kitchen -- there not being a door between it and the parlour where the lads stood, awkwardly eyeing each other. "A cup of tea can do wonders; my old grandmother swore by a nice, freshly-brewed pot of tea!" Bilbo said, far too brightly than he meant. "Thank you," Frodo replied, still standing several feet away from the old hobbit. "Bring him in then, Esme," scolded Bilbo, as if the whole enterprise was his idea. "Meriadoc, bring another chair from my study." Then he paused to actually look at Frodo. "You haven't slept," he realised, and his heart fluttered in sympathy. He swallowed. "Take the seat by the fire; hunger makes for cold bones." "I'm not hungry," Frodo contradicted, but he sat on the chair. "A piece of toast won't hurt, eh, Esme? I'm sure we can soon make some toast," and he bustled back into the kitchen, Frodo's resemblance to his dead mother having finally taken hold of him. Out of sight of the three in the parlour, his hand sought the comfort of the Thing secreted in his pocket and he drew long breaths to aid the calming process. It took but moments and then he set to making toast, calling out to Esmeralda to ask if he could make some for her also. She responded in the negative; her attention being directed upon Frodo. Her maternal instincts swelled in sympathy and she set her hands upon his shoulders as he sat crumpled beside the fire. "These next few days are going to be your worst," she told him; then hugged him to her side as lack of sleep heightened her own emotions. "I wish it were over," Frodo said in anguish, peering up at Esme. Then he caught sight of Bilbo, standing under the arched entrance to the kitchen, a plate piled high with toasted bread, shaking in his trembling hands. Frodo blinked. Meriadoc intercepted the the toast as it began to tumble off the plate. Silently, he removed the breakfast and put it onto the big table in the parlour. "Does anyone want this, Ma?" he asked. "I don't suppose so, Merry," she replied. "Where's the tea, Bilbo? You promised us some tea," engaging the eyes of the old hobbit whilst maintaining her hold on the younger Baggins. "Yes... yes... of course... the kettle has boiled -- I think." He sighed heavily but approached Frodo nevertheless. "How are the Goodchilds?" he asked. "Bereft," the Orphan answered, looking up at Bilbo. "I'll go and see them; offer to take care of the arrangements," and he glanced at Esme for her approval. "You... you can stay here until the Wake -- if you want to; I'm sure Esme will help me to prepare a room for you." Stunned by what he heard, Frodo swallowed as he tried to summon the words to reply. "Thank you; I'd like that." Surprisingly, the lad was able to offer a small smile of gratitude. Looking across the top of Frodo's head, Esme added her own smile of approval then offered to help Bilbo make the tea. "Merry, keep Frodo company," she ordered. "Yes, Ma," and he crouched beside his cousin. "I won't pretend to really understand how you feel, Frodo, but I can imagine. She was such a kindly lass and there's many will miss her cheery demeanour." Frodo simply nodded. Merry leaned to whisper in Frodo's ear: "Looks like Ma might have talked sense into the old dog!" and he sniggered. Frodo's head jerked to engage the twinkling eyes of his well-nicknamed cousin. "So he didn't offer out of the goodness of his own heart!" "I'm sure he means --" "I won't stay if it's too much trouble!" Frodo said angrily, gaining his feet in an instant, only to be confronted by both Bilbo and Esme. "Steady, Frodo," Esme begged, shooting a reproving glance at her son for his loose tongue. "Meriadoc, I'll speak to you later!" But Bilbo settled the argument. "It's no trouble, my lad; you'll be doing me a favour," he told Frodo. "It's time I buried the past and stopped blaming the innocent for something beyond their control." Taken aback, Frodo hadn't the words to offer as a response. When Bilbo's hand was offered to him, he took it. "We have much to speak about, Frodo," the old hobbit said, "but I insist that you drink a cup of my tea first." It was as if a great weight had suddenly been lifted from Frodo's shoulders; he didn't know whether to laugh or cry -- laugh because it was his dream come true; cry because Jess would not be around to share in the joy. Then, it seemed Bilbo read his thoughts; a large hand fell on his shoulder and the words spoken had the ring of truth in them. "Let us hope it isn't too late for either of us to make something good come out of our grief." "Hear, hear!" Esme put in. It broke the maudlin atmosphere long enough for them all to drink the tea-pot dry. TO BE CONTINUED...

-BURYING THE PAST- by Frances Barratt Part 8 The Wake for Jessamine Goodchild matched the mood of the lass whose life it celebrated: warm and cheerful. As might be expected most of Hobbiton attended; a mite unexpected was the party which arrived from the borders of Buckland in the company of Tiller Goodchild. The Ferry-Master's companions were: Saradoc, Esmeralda and Meriadoc Brandybuck; Paladin, Eglantine, Peregrin, Pearl, Pimpernel and Pervinca Took; but the surprise mourner was Saradas Brandybuck. It had needed two carts to carry the eleven of them; the Tooks in one with their brood of offspring and the remainder part-filled the second. Frodo was moved by the efforts of the visitors, not to mention the attendance by Bilbo -- whose excuse had been: "I liked the lass." Esmeralda went immediately to Frodo and -- without smothering him to the point of embarrassement -- gently embraced him. "This is the worst of it," she said, "the actual elogy and burial. Everyone says far more than they intend and often a good deal more than they mean; though, in this instance, I somehow feel we shall hear genuine feelings being expressed." Frodo nodded in agreement. "You know that I have to return home this evening, Frodo?" "I expected as much." "Merry can stay -- if you want him to, just to ease the induction into the routine of Bag End." "I can't ask him to stay on my account," and he glanced to where Merry and his cousin Peregrin were huddled together like conspiritors. Esme followed Frodo's eyes. "They are more like brothers," she commented wistfully. "My lad would have liked a brother..." and she cut herself short; bit on her lip and forced a smile. "The three of you got on well, didn't you?" she queried. "Oh yes." "Perhaps this isn't such a good idea after all," she mumbled. Then a hand touched her arm; she looked down at the ruined fingernails on it and thence back up to the trademark-blue eyes of Frodo. "You've started biting them again, I see." He lifted the hand and compared it to the other. "Jess always told me off for doing it," he reminisced. "She said I'd ruin my teeth as well as my nails." He bared his teeth. "Are they ruined?" "No, lad; they're the same as ever they were when the adult ones came through -- that gap isn't any wider!" as she pointed it out. Frodo put a forefinger to his upper, front teeth. "I used to hate this," he remarked, "but Jess... she said it was part of who I am." "Ah, Mercy on us," Esme gasped, putting a protective arm around her surrogate son, "the lass had an insight few of us ever attain." "I know, and I loved her for that; she accepted me no matter what my moods were." "She loved you too, Frodo. Oh, I know there were those who said you were too young to know about love, but you weren't. Love is just that: accepting a person no matter what other folk say," and she drifted off into her own memories again. "I'll come and visit, Esme; don't think I won't just because I've got my wish at last." He touched her heart; but there was no more time for comparisons, Bilbo approached them and she knew the fateful moment had come -- they had to bury Jessamine's body and then try to rebuild life without her. It would be difficult. "Frodo, Halfred wants you to walk beside him and Jade," Bilbo informed, his mouth twitching as he spoke. "Seeing as you were betrothed to his lass," he explained. Surprised, but unable to speak, Frodo gulped down his sob lest it become uncontrolable. He fell into step and joined the numerous mourners for the short walk to the cemetary out on the Overhill Road. As he neared the family group, he spied Sam in the background and turned to Halfred. "Master Goodchild, would you permit Sam to walk with us?" "Why, bless you, lad! 'Course 'e may. Samwise! Halfred hailed. "Join us." Stepping out from amongst his kinfolk, Sam walked up to Frodo and offered a hand in greeting. "Thank you, Mister Frodo; I might have known you'd understand my feelings." "Sam; you were the nearest thing Jess had to a brother, it's right you follow her coffin." And with that, the courtege moved off. But another surprise awaited Frodo around the next bend in the road... TO BE CONTINUED...

Esme's intervention brings light into Frodo's life and Bilbo finally opens his heart and door for him

-Burying the Past- by Frances Barratt Part 9 Hobbits are not generally quiet folk but on that day, every sound of the Shire bar the chattering of halflings, drifted through the West Farthing and towards the North Farthing close by. Bare feet tramped the dry, dusty road and the wheels on the hearse creaked from lack of use; hobbits being long-lived creatures, funerals were few and far between -- unless an accident occured. As the final bend in the road loomed before them, a voice was heard on the breeze -- but from some distance ahead. "What was that?" Frodo said to Sam, jerking his head to his companion as he spoke. "Why are you smiling, Sam?" "Don't you recognise that voice?" Sam countered. "Voice? It's too deep for a voice." "A hobbit's voice, yes," and he grabbed excitedly at Frodo's sleeve. At which point, Esmeralda hurried to the front of the courtege. "Surely you know who it is, Frodo?" she said, and carried on walking towards the bend. Frodo frowned. He looked about him; the courtege had halted as one body. "What's happening? Will someone tell me --?" but his attention became unexplicably turned to the road ahead. Screwing up his eyes, he couldn't believe what he saw. "The Wizard?" he queried. "Ar, Gandalf always comes when he's needed," Sam declared. "Who sent for him?" "You don't send for Gandalf," the Gaffer chimed in. "No one'd know where to send to!" "Then where's he been these past..? It's six years since I met him," Frodo calculated. "Who knows?" Sam answered. A gentle hum came from the funeral party as they remarked upon the appearance of Gandalf the Grey. Frodo realised that he must be a regular visitor to this part of the Shire. "Bilbo," he said. "Yes?" the hobbit in question queried. "You called me?" he asked. "He's here because of you, isn't he?" Frodo said. "Me? No, no! Gandalf has no reason to come for me!" he spluttered. "Once was quite sufficient," he added beneath his breath. But Frodo had heard. "Your Great Adventure," he surmised. "So why is he here now?" "I don't know!" Bilbo replied sharply. "Ask him yourself," and he pottered away. By then, Esmeralda had returned to the group; behind her walked the Wizard who, in appearance at least, looked like an old Man. She seemed pleased with herself, as if she knew something the others did not, yet she stood aside to let Gandalf approach the bereaved kindred. "My dear friends," he addressed the Goodchilds, "no words of mine can adequately convey my sorrow at your loss. The workings of this world are sometimes a mysterey, even to me," and he crouched down to better look into their faces. Then he suddenly stared straight at Frodo. "We met once, you and I," he said. "Six years ago; I'm surprised you remember me." Gandalf's eyebrows raised and almost disappeared beneath the brim of his enormous hat. "I may look old to you, Frodo Baggins -- I am in a way -- but that does not mean my memory fails me!" Frodo cringed. "I'm sorry; I meant no offence, it's just... why would you remember me?" "A child being bullied by his kin?" and a merry twinkle shone from his eyes. "How is Seredic?" The hum from the crowd rose to a polite hissing sound and Frodo looked around at them. "I haven't seen him for a while," he replied, peering back at the Wizard. "Good. Now then, dear folk, let us take care of this sad business," Gandalf said to the expectant gathering, turning aside from Frodo a moment. "Esmeralda," he called to her, "a word if you please." Sam, Merry and Pippin now flanked Frodo; four hobbits lined up behind the hearse. Frodo whispered to Merry: "What does he want with your mother?" "Dunno," answered Merry. "Ma can be... she's clever," was all he'd say. "Come on, we'll be left behind," for the courtege had indeed begun to move again and the four hobbits had to run a few paces to catch up. Taking up their places behind the hearse, Frodo and Sam sobered again as they passed where Gandalf and Esmeralda were deep in conversation. Almost as a twin-headed monster, the lads arched their necks to stare -- until each received a tap on the shoulder to pay attention to where they were meant to be going. "... I worry about him," Esmeralda was saying. "A broken heart is like a broken bone: set wrong and it mends crooked." "Bilbo will help Frodo," Gandalf said. "Well, it came as a surprise to me that he let the lad stay at all -- even until today!" "Really? You had no faith in the old hobbit then?" She looked at Gandalf -- who for her convenience had seated himself on a tree-root. "I have little faith in circumstances that rob a good-hearted lad of the one thing that has kept him sane all these years!" she said angrily. "Tut, tut, Esmeralda, I hoped for better from you." "Why?" His eyes widened. "Promise me that you will keep an eye on Frodo for me." "What interest can you have in him?" "He has a stout heart; I admire beings with stout hearts," and he smiled at the halfling. "We'd better join this entourage," he added, struggling to his feet. So they did. During the actual interrment, Frodo stood stock still, staring out beyond the cemetary and seemingly ignoring the proceedings. In amongst the trees, he saw points of light; skipping and dancing like butterflies on the breeze. The more he watched, the brighter they became; the harder he concentrated, the easier it was to see the shapes they made. He smiled. Suddenly, he knew in his heart that Jess would never be dead. As long as he remembered and visited the places she had been, his precious girl would live forever -- just as the Elves do... THE END

Grieving at Jessamine' s grave

Gazing at butterflies through the trees

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-A Washerwoman's Tale- by Lassie Rowan Gamwich

-A Washerwoman's Tale- Page 2-by Lassie Rowan Gamwich

-Alone Amongst Many-by Frances Barratt

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-Forgotten Memories-by Frances Barratt