The Unexpected Adventures of Estella of Woody Row

by Meri Brandybuck

Thanks to Erin Rua for her patient and gentle editing

Chapter 7: Chill Journey The wind shifted and a storm began to brew after Togo Goodbody headed into the cold night air to deliver Fatty's messages. The moon cast an odd glow from behind the blanketed sky and it seemed the clouds had lost all their lift and settled in to rest on the hills the Shire. Three visitors, hobbits all, dropped in that night. They brought with them warnings of Men still wandering the Shire speaking outlandishly, and rumors of retribution for his actions. But mostly Fatty heard laments that everywhere hobbit families were displaced, and others now had extra hobbits moving in needing shelter, and nearly everyone was beginning to really worry about supplies lasting the winter. Around midnight snow began to fall, and all became quiet. Families huddled together. Taverns and the odd framed houses built by the Men were full with the gatherers, and Fatty wondered about Estella. She was not doing well, and in the quiet of the late night Fatty sat at her side, sometimes dozing in the chair, other times gently holding her hand to comfort her as she cried out. She fitfully slept and looked weak and frail. Cool cloths seemed to help, but Fatty was no nursemaid; he wasn't sure what to think. He worried as he had never done before, and he bitterly pondered a proper revenge for the damage done to his family. Looking at her damp, mashed hair and her rosy cheeks he fought tears as he tried to think about life without her. How he longed for his mother, her soft words and calm demeanor. The many long nights she had sat at his side as a child suddenly became more poignant, more meaningful. He tenderly smoothed Estella's curls away from her face and noticed a lock of her fine hair was missing, cut in the struggle by that horrible man. He clenched his teeth in anger and silently vowed to somehow fight back. Exhausted and pained by the sight of her, he whispered a promise: That he would do all he could to rid the Shire of these men, but above all else, he would keep her safe. As the grey light of dawn made its way into the hallway Fatty awoke with a start. The sudden movement made him painfully aware he was not in his bed, but resting lopsided against the wall and a wooden chair. 'How long have I been asleep?', he wondered groggily. Rubbing his neck he sat upright and looked about the room. As he turned to his sister, just the sight of her brought a sigh of relief. She lay sleeping soundly, and her fever was gone. Fatty rose and slowly stretched out his back. Stiff muscles ached from defending his sister the day before, but he didn't mind. It had been worth it. He padded softly into the hallway and into the kitchen, and his heart filled with gratitude. He had known last night that the Brownlocks had tidied and cleaned, but in the silence of morning he slowly took in the sight of a spotless kitchen, left with no sign of the previous day's encounter. Even fresh bread sat wrapped tightly in a cloth awaiting the morning meal. Wandering into the entryway, the only thing he could see out of place was the window, boarded up tightly by skillful hands. 'When did Filgard do that?' he wondered to himself. Sighing softly he rested his head against the wall. 'What would I do without such friends?' As quiet as the morning arrived, Fatty began to wonder at the utter silence that seemed to continue as the sun rose. Looking out of the only other window in the little home, the reason became clear. Snow lay in soft thick mounds, covering the ground and sparkling under the morning sun. Trees that had long shed their leaves were now a dazzling network of branches, glazed with layers of snow and ice. Creatures hid in their burrows, birds fluffed their wings and nestled close together, if they could be found at all. If it was any other day Fatty would be thrilled with the glory of the spectacular sight. But now he wondered how the snow would dampen his plans, and hoped it would dampen those of the Men. "Fatty?" Turning, he saw Daisy; her nightgown still rumpled from sleep and her face filled with concern. A soft smile flitted across his lips as he announced the good news, "She looks better, but she's still sleeping." A smile broke across Daisy's face and she let out a sigh of relief. "I'll just fix up some breakfast." *** The soft footfalls in the hallway and the scent of bacon were the first things Estella noticed. She felt stiff, as if she hadn't moved all night. Shifting her body, she remembered why. She opened her eyes with the sudden pain, and stared at the ceiling, trying to decide how long she had been asleep. A movement to her left brought her attention to the chair at her side, and she smiled as the sight of her brother eating breakfast came into focus. "Will you be saving any breakfast for your sister?" she asked quietly. Fatty nearly choked on his eggs, sputtering and coughing as he realized she was awake. She laughed, but stopped quickly, wincing in pain. "Oh Tella! You're awake! How are you feeling, do you hurt, can I get you anything?" Estella smiled weakly and returned the grasp that held her hand. "I'm so happy to see you awake!" Fatty said earnestly. Gently shifting and pushing against the bed, Estella attempted to sit, only to shudder with the pain of her side. Fatty quickly attempted to help her get comfortable. Estella looked down at her bandaged arm and gingerly touched the binding at her side. "Well, I sure hope I don't have another day like yesterday anytime soon," she said lightly. A grin spread across Fatty's face and tears welled up in his eyes. "Aye, me neither," he said, touching her hair softly. Meeting Fatty's gaze she suddenly felt overwhelmed with love and gratitude for him. "Oh Fatty, what would I have done without you here?" "Now don't think about that! What are brothers for if not to show up occasionally, even if a little late, and defend their sisters from invaders?" "Ah, well, I would say brothers are more apt to eat my breakfast, or is it second breakfast already?" Fatty licked his lips and grinned. "I think it's my third, but I will get you a helping right away!" He stood and vanished, only to be replaced nearly instantly with Daisy Brownlock. A little wrinkle creased Estella's forehead as she tried to determine why Daisy would be at her bedside. "Oh Estella!" Daisy breathed. "Thank goodness!" Lily entered the room and let out a gleeful "Ooohh!" and clapped her hands. "She's awake!" And before Estella could even open her mouth to speak, Lily had disappeared into the hallway to help fetch breakfast. "Daisy, where...where did you come from?" Estella wondered aloud. She knew Fatty had been at her side, but what brought the Brownlocks down to Woody Row? Daisy smiled and patted Estella's hand, "Don't you worry Tella, you will be all right. Lily and I stitched you up good. Not any fancy floral pattern mind you, but as straight a stitch as we could." Her small chuckle hurt, but she grinned none the less. "What luck brought me the next best seamstresses in East Farthing for such a job?" The wan smile on Daisy's face faded. The Brownlocks had worked often in conjunction, and sometimes in competition with the Bolgers for sewing projects, but it wasn't competition that melted her smile. "Estella. Those ruffians burned our little row of houses." Her voice cracked and quavered as she struggled to explain the circumstances that brought her to the Bolger's home. Estella grasped Daisy's hand gently and their eyes met, both damp with unshed tears. "I am so sorry. I didn't know," Estella managed to say. "I am so glad you came here, how would Fatty manage me being in such a mess without you? You must stay with us, for as long as you have need." "Indeed, you are welcome with us, for I fear we may need you even more than you need shelter before things settle down." Fatty's voice came from the hallway, and he stood bearing a tray filled with a savory breakfast of eggs, ham, muffins and jam. The tea kettle arrived with Lily not a moment later. Having her fill of breakfast, Estella, though sore, felt much better. She could tell she was weak, but just the company and food did wonders for her light-headedness. The day progressed, mostly with talk and several more meals, with naps and chats in between. The snow had ceased the night before, but the sun was slow to melt the heavy layer of white. Hobbits and men alike stayed indoors, waiting for more hospitable conditions to do their work or trouble. As night fell and temperatures dropped, a small council was held in the back bedroom of Number Four Woody Row. Filgard and Fatty sat with Daisy and Lily, with Estella quietly listening in her bed. Despite the snow and cold of the day, Fatty had heard back from several of the notes sent out the night before with Togo Goodbody. He was now pleased he had begged immediate replies, for it seemed a decision had to be made quickly. Some of the news was good, for one reply was from Mayor Will Whitfoot himself, written in his long scratchy hand informing him that he was headed up to Hobbiton within the week to address the many "alarming reports" he'd received. This brought much relief from the hobbits, who were pleased to hear that perhaps something would be done to rein in the behavior of these men and Lotho, who seemed to be at the heart of the matter. But some of the news was more troubling, for it seemed the rumors were true; there were plans by the Men to re-visit the Bolger household. Apparently this Jack, whom they had the run-in with, was an important figure in the ranks of the Men causing mischief in the Shire and it was doubtful he would forget about the incident with Fatty and Estella any time soon. Fatty sighed at the notes in his lap. He knew that regardless of hope or worry, he would hold to his course. He would not allow Estella to come into harm's way if he could help it. Many plans boiled within him that could compromise her safety, though he did not speak of them. But in the end they all agreed, waiting at Number Four was taking too great a risk, for the Men would return. *** Night settled in cold and frozen. The snow that had melted in the sun of the winter day had begun to freeze over once again into ice. Two hobbits peeked out the kitchen window and saw that it was quiet. "No. There is no one, it is too cold. They're probably down at The Woody Grove," whispered Daisy to Lily, referring to the nearest tavern. They both jumped at the sound of the door scraping open. The frosty air whipped into the hallway and kitchen as the bundled figure of Filgard Brownlock returned inside. He stood in the darkened hall, lit only by the fire in the hearth and stamped his feet and brushed off the cold. "What news?" Fatty asked from the kitchen, where he sat nervously at the table. Filgard set aside his cloak and pulled off his scarf. "It is clear and very cold. The roads are frozen up. If it weren't that things were so urgent... I would wait, Fatty." Fatty scowled and rubbed at his chin, debating on his choices. "So the roads are frozen but clear?" "Yes, no one is out tonight. It is very chilly, but the stars are out and the moon shines bright." "That's it then, we must away. It is our chance. Who knows when another storm may come through?" Fatty stood and Daisy and Lily did likewise. "Let's get things ready and bring out Estella at the last minute. Then... well, you know what to do after that." His eyes met the sisters and they nodded, nervous but resolute. It was after midnight, and while all the Shire slept, quiet under the chill of winter, one hole on Woody Row was a bustle of hushed activity, preparations for a quiet getaway. A pony quietly stamped behind the snow covered rise that was a hobbit hole, and nipped at the hands that harnessed him up at this very early hour. Filgard patted him gently and finished buckling his straps. The little cart that stood now at the ready, was light and sturdy, a few small bags and boxes were tucked into a corner. Filgard gave the wheels and sides another check as Lily came dashing around the corner with a heavy wood box, followed quickly by Daisy and then Fatty, who bore a very large quilted bundle. Daisy ran ahead of Lily, cautiously trying not to slip on the crunching snow and lay down a very heavy woolen blanket. Lily set down the box with a huff, and the sisters began gingerly setting hot bricks on the blanket. Fatty arrived as the last of the preparations was done and gently set down a very wrapped Estella. She was dressed in her warmest things, woolen cloak and thick blankets tucked about her. Sitting snug against the corner of the cart in the little prepared bed of pillows and blankets she hugged her farewells to Daisy and Lily. "Take good care of the place, I shall write you straightaway we arrive." Estella said in a halting voice, big puffs of steam surrounding her with every breath. "Don't you worry, we will keep it nice." Lily said, tucking another blanket onto Estella. "I dare say we may even finish a few unfinished projects in the sewing room if this cold lasts." Daisy said, wiping away a tear. "Now go, and may all the luck be with you tonight." Stepping off the little cart Daisy and Lily, stood shivering and waving quietly as Filgard snapped the back board of the cart into place and Fatty climbed up onto the seat. Fatty was also wrapped up, bundled more than he was comfortable with. He couldn't believe he was sweating in this chill air. Perhaps it was his nerves. Lily dashed up to the front of the cart and adjusted the foot rest, tucking a thick blanket and two warmed bricks below his feet. "All right now Lily! I daresay I'll be done and ready for slicing in an hour." Lily giggled, and with a nervous half-smile Fatty waved at the three Brownlock siblings, as he clucked at the pony who seemed anxious to get moving. The ground below was frozen, and though hard on the little pony's hooves as it trotted along the slippery path, it likely made for quicker time had the ground been soft and wet. They only slid around a few times, but the constant sound of the loud clip clop against icy roads and crunching and cracking under their weight kept Fatty from feeling the lateness of the hour. Twice they pulled off into the trees, and waited as sounds drifted near. Luck did seem with them, for they never passed or saw another hobbit or man throughout the cold hours. Estella had begun to shiver in the cart behind him, and while she had tried to rest, the cold air kept making her breath catch in her throat and tickle until she coughed. And coughing was painful. Her feet and hands were cold, and her nose seemed numb. Brother and sister did not speak. Fatty earnestly watched every movement on either side and listened for any danger. Estella tried tucking herself into a covered shell, but it was hard to breathe. Eventually she wrapped a blanket so it just left her eyes and her nose partially exposed and she watched the stars twinkle above he as they rode on. The Eastern sky was beginning to turn a few shades lighter as Fatty turned down a heavily wooded lane that left the Stock road. A little way down the darkened path, the thick forest that had been constantly on either side of them the whole trip, suddenly gaped wide as a large meadow yawned before them. A small house stood at the far end of the clearing, a light burned in the window, and happy smoke twisted up from the chimney. Fatty sighed in relief. They had made it to May and Hob Greenfield's home. The Greenfields were the little farming family that lived in the forest glade. They kept a few milking cows and Hob and his sons provided milk for the locals in the thickly wooded area. A large garden area lay to the South of the house, abandoned for the winter and covered with snow. Though the skies were very dark still, the area felt snug and tucked away from prying eyes. Before the cart even made it all the way up the lane to the house the round door cracked open and a beam of light poured out upon the walkway with a rather stout hobbit peering out at them, lantern in hand. "Fatty Bolger?" a gruff voice broke the silence. "Yes sir, Mister Greenfield," Fatty responded. The elder hobbit sighed audibly and stood a little taller as the cart approached. He grasped the pony's bridle and gave him a loving pat. "You done good there," he said, complimenting the pony. "I'm glad you made it, and what a cold night, eh? Let's get you in and warm." He turned and with a little curl of his lips he whistled a sharp note. A sturdy young hobbit lad not yet in his tweens came immediately out the door and nodded. He went to the back of the cart and pulled off the back board. "Miss, can I help you down?" Estella jolted awake. She hadn't realized that she was dozing and blinked several times and peered down at a young hobbit helping her down. He was not a large lad by any standards, even for hobbits, but as Estella reached over for him to help her, he lifted her with ease and carried her up the steps to a snug looking home. The blast of warm air poured over her and she smiled despite herself at the comfortable little sitting area that was bright with a warm fire in the hearth. A cheery hobbit mother directed her son into a back bedroom and he gently set Estella upon a soft bed. Estella winced as she twisted and her side burned with pain. "Oh lawks, are you all right my dear?" the mother asked as she helped adjust Estella into a comfortable position. "Yes ma'am. I'm just a bit sore," Estella said, attempting a smile. Her voice betrayed her however, trembling in pain and exhaustion. The mother shot a glance at her son and nodded, and he vanished. "Well now, you look more than sore Miss Estella Bolger." Her lips pressed in a line as she examined the bruises on Estella's face. "I am May Greenfield, as you may have guessed," she suddenly said with a grin. "I finally get to meet Fatty's little sister then? I can't say it's the best of circumstances, but I will say you look more like your mother than your brother." She patted Estella's hand and quietly said, "And from what he told me I can think of no better place for you to dash off to than our place, to be quite frank! Though I was a tad bit surprised to see Bodo Goodbody on my doorstep in the middle of the snow. But now, you need at least some hot tea, and a little treat before you need a long sleep." May bustled in and out of the room, bringing tea, setting out warm bread and soft butter, and helping Estella out of her bundles of clothes and into a soft nightgown from the luggage brought in by one of her boys. Fatty arrived after a little while, having settled the pony out in the stable, and he sat on the little bed across from Estella with relief. "You look nearly as bad as your sister there Fatty!" May teased, and gave him a hug. "I'm so glad you could come see us, even if it isn't all for fun and visiting." "Aye, May, we are ever so grateful for your hospitality. And most especially for a warm room!" The conversation was merry as the siblings broke an early breakfast with Mrs. Greenfield. Her husband and boys were out with the cows, but were careful to use hushed voices and quiet tones when they returned. For soon after the Bolgers were fed and settled Fatty and Estella fell fast asleep. The smells of luncheon and the sounds of busy forks and plates were the first thing that Estella noted as she sat up, only vaguely aware of where she was. The immediate ache in her side and a new sensation of pressure in her head brought a wince of pain. She wiped at her nose and sniffed. "Drat!" she thought to herself. "Just what I need;, a cold, too!" The day was half gone, and while Estella felt good enough to eat and visit a little with the Greenfields, the pressure in her head was increasing by the moment. Already she had borrowed several handkerchiefs, but it seemed to be a wasted effort only making her ears feel funny. May had noticed immediately: the tickling cough, the glassy eyes and reddened state of her nose. Estella was coming down with something, and in proper fashion, May managed to fuss and keep Estella abed for the most of the evening, chatting and bringing her warm soup. The naps she managed to take were short and unsatisfying. The dripping of her nose and pain behind her eyes kept waking her. By nightfall Fatty was anxious to go once more, though now reluctant to take his sister out in the chill once more. "We could stay here a few days more. The Greenfields have offered. It is not likely that the men would track us here right off." "No, I really think we can make it tonight. I can rest all I want after that." Estella said with a sniff. In her heart, however, she was dreading the trip. It was still chilly and cold, the sun had melted off some snow, but now the ground was freezing up as muddy ice. And a dull ache seemed to be creeping up her shoulders and spreading to her back and neck. Staying snug at the Greenfield's sounded inviting, but the prospect of delaying putting distance between them and the ruffians seemed far worse than a chill journey. Yes, the sooner they were off the better. Tonight the stout Greenfield boys readied the cart, and prepared the little bed for Estella. They planned on an earlier start, this stretch of the Stock road was rarely traveled at night, even by locals, and the word from the nearby folk was that the men had kept to themselves in the cold weather. Estella finished sipping the last of the hot tea that May had prepared specifically for her. It was pungent and strong, but whatever was in it also made breathing easier, and the coughing to subside somewhat. By the time Fatty was ready to depart, Estella found she was losing the battle to stay awake. "She will sleep tonight, you just get there," May whispered to Fatty. Fatty looked confused, but noticed that indeed, Estella was struggling to keep her eyes open. "What did you give her?" "Don't you worry. Just a special family recipe for colds such as this. She'll sleep deep and good, and it will help," she patted Fatty on the arm and began directing her sons to help Estella aboard the cart. So it was in a sleepy daze that Estella lay down, wrapped snugly, in the back of the cart. As the clip-clop of the pony, and the turning of the wheels began a regular pattern, Estella slipped into a deep sleep, unaware of the remainder of the trip in the cold night air. *** The knock at the door was not wholly unexpected, but Lily jumped at the sudden sound. Her eyes met those of her brother and sister and Filgard nodded as another knock rapped sharply and a voice came from the outside, "Open up, we know you're in there." Gulping and straightening up resolutely, Filgard walked to the door and lifted the bolt. He opened it out gently, his gaze drifting up at the man at the door. Filgard nervously fingered the wood on the door as he took in the sight of a man twice his height at close proximity. The man had recently shaved, and looked clean, but his hair still fell about his face in a disheveled manner. As the hobbit at the door eyed his visitor, he noticed a cut below his eye, and silently realized that this was indeed the very man who had inflicted harm to Estella, and he was coming for Fatty. Behind him were five other men, and out on the fringes, beyond the sight of the men, were curious hobbits, peering out behind trees or pretending to sweep off steps. "Good morning," Filgard said, trying to keep his nerves under control. "Can I help you?" The man paused a moment and looked at Filgard with steely eyes, clearly he had not expected someone else. "Aye, I'm here to visit with Fatty Bolger, the roly poly halfling that lives here. Who are you?" "Fatty Bolger eh?" Filgard said with a confused look. "He doesn't live here. I'm Filgard Brownlock... and I don't think I caught your name." The man's smirk shifted to an annoyed glare and he glanced back at his companions briefly, the neighboring hobbits quickly acting uninterested. "Jack's the name, and this Fatty does indeed live here...I had the displeasure of makin' his acquaintance day before yesterday." "I'm sorry sir, I don't know what you are speaking of. Me and my sisters live here, the only Fatty Bolger I know of lives out in Buckland I hear." He began to shut the door, but a heavy boot stopped the round door, and both men and curious hobbits watched to see what would happen next. "You're lyin', little friend. I've checked with the locals, this here is Number Four, I can read me numbers. And this here's home to the Bolgers. A feisty, troublesome lass, and her tubby, meddling brother." He pointed at his eye and said, "This cut here is due to his harassment, I was simply goin' about my duties." He narrowed his eyes and Filgard felt a wave of panic rush over him, and hoped that his nervousness didn't show. "That looks like it hurts, but you have the wrong place. Come in if you like, there are no Bolgers here, just us law abiding hobbits who don't want any trouble." The man clenched his jaw and nodded to some men behind him. Three men entered the house, stooping as they passed the doorway. The man Jack was hard to read. Filgard attempted to show him around, pretending as best he could to be comfortable in his surroundings. Both Daisy and Lily stood in a far corner looking honestly petrified and perfectly submissive. The home had been completely shifted around. The chairs had been hastily re-covered, mostly with leftover fabric and pins, and the kitchen table traded with a darker, longer table used normally in the sewing room. The wall hangings and pictures had been moved and changed with others the Brownlocks had borrowed or found about the house. Even the curtains had been switched, and the pantry completely re-organized. Anything that might have been remembered or seen by the ruffian had been somehow altered, moved or replaced. The men looked around, and Jack in particular looked more and more confused. Finally one of his companions sidled near and whispered to him. "I don't know!" Jack bellowed. "I swear it is the same house, but it isn't the same inside, and the fat hobbit isn't here."Filgard's eyes grew wide and Daisy and Lily held their breath. With a glare at Filgard and his sisters Jack said, "I must've had the wrong place in mind." "You must've been drinking is whot it was Jack," piped up the shorter of the companions. "Shuddup Tom, let's go." And with that Jack and the other men departed, clearly frustrated and annoyed, but none the wiser. The men had passed far out of sight before the Brownlocks finally allowed themselves a laugh and the grins of triumph. *** When Estella opened her eyes, she thought she'd lost her vision. It was dark and things were blurry. Slowly she became aware of a shape in the shadows above her head and she blinked as she tried to focus upon it. It looked like... a ceiling beam, inside a hobbit hole. She lay there confused for a few minutes. There was nothing familiar about the darkened ceiling above her. But her mind in a fog, all she really knew was that she felt warm, comfortable, after something that was not so warm... something uncomfortable. Taking a breath she gently shook her head and she shifted her back a little. That was enough. The pain from the wound in her side, a general achiness of feeling sick, and a genuine worry as to where exactly she was washed over her in a moment of panic and bewilderment. She tried to sit up, but let out a cry as sharp pain in her side, and pressure in her head hit her all at once causing her to see spots. Just then, a soft hand lay on her shoulder and brushed her hair back away from her face. Estella turned her head, astonished to see a hobbit mother at her side. "There now Estella, don't try and sit just yet," said a calm wizened voice. It was a vaguely familiar voice and Estella stared at the older hobbit, blinking away her tears of relief and confusion. The hobbit at her side was Esmeralda Brandybuck. They had met before, many times at Brandy Hall, but Estella did not know her well. She did recall that this was Merry Brandybuck's mother, and the thought occurred to her that she must be in Brandy Hall. "You've given us a bit of a wait this day;, strong stuff, May Greenfield's tea," said Esmeralda. "I'm guessing you could use a little water about now?" Estella wiggled backwards onto her elbows to a half-way sitting position and groaned, her side was freshly bound, and very sore. Esmeralda helped her up, and propped some pillows behind her before handing her a glass of water. The cool water was delicious on her dry lips and mouth and soothed her scratchy throat, though it was difficult to swallow. "Thank you," she said weakly. The drink seemed to help clear her mind a little and she looked around the room curiously. She noticed it was a back hobbit hole room, one hollowed deep within the Smials, with a window that opened out into another corridor, most likely several hallways from the outside. A dim light from the brighter rooms beyond was all that shone through the round window which had no glass, but a simple pale green curtain that had been drawn to one side. The single candle at the bedside flickered an orange-yellow light up behind her and onto the dark paneled walls. The little bed was soft and snug, and the room tidy with a small cabinet in the corner. Bed and furniture were a dark cherry and the bed was dressed in a delicate green spread with a leaf pattern hemmed on the edges. There were a few hangings on the walls, and some dried flowers on a small low shelf by the door. Two boxes that were filled with books, what looked like a butterfly net, and some other odd shapes were tucked in the corner nearest the window. Esmeralda smiled, her eyes following her gaze and gently placed her hand on Estella's forehead, quietly determining if she had a fever. "This is Merry's old room," she sighed and gave a forced smile looking around. "I wish I knew where he's got to. That boy worries me so." After finding that the fever was gone, Esmeralda took Estella's hand and gazed into her eyes. "How are you feeling?" Estella gulped, "Merry's room?" she looked stunned and an odd chill ran up her spine, as if she had forgotten he was gone, left with his three friends. And she suddenly felt very guilty for knowing more about his fate than his mother, and it pained her to be bound to silence. Esmeralda smiled and nodded. "I'm sure he won't mind, I suspect if he even returned he would probably stay elsewhere, always going and visiting as he does. In fact, I don't doubt he would give up his room to a pretty lass such as yourself just to have an excuse to visit," she smiled wistfully for a moment, seemingly remembering another time and place, and then came back to herself. "Now, how do you feel my dear?" Estella felt a mix of empathy and genuine relief wash over her. Apparently she didn't look as guilty as she felt. With a half smile she replied, "I am a little hungry, and my side still aches, but...I feel out of sorts, like I missed a day...how did I get to Brandy Hall?" "Oh my dear, you did indeed! Fatty brought you here on a pony cart two days ago from May Greenfield's. It was a good thing too, as I just heard those men returned and were looking for you two not a day after you left." "Two days?" "Mmm, yes...you rested long. Any medicinal tea from May will do wonders, but usually you have to sleep it off." "Two days?" No wonder her stomach ached and twisted. Her mind began to race. "What had happened along the way? Was Fatty all right? What news of their home? And the Brownlocks? How did they fare? Had Fatty heard from Mother?" She was glad she was sitting, for it seemed everything came rushing back at dizzying speed "...And your side would ache after such a cut as that you have there," Esmeralda was speaking, and Estella struggled to focus her attention. "I am afraid it is rather red and swollen still, but the other cuts are mending better." She touched Estella's face and turned it to see the progress of a few little scratches up behind her ear, and pulled out her arms to check the cuts and scratches there. "I'll just be getting Celandine to fetch you something to eat, then." Estella smiled her thanks as Esmeralda rose to leave her, and tried not to let on that she was already salivating in anticipation, but one question refused to be left unasked. "Fatty?" "He's fine. I'll get him straightaway." Estella wiggled a bit to get more upright and put her hand to the sore spot on her side. Looking down she could see she was in an unfamiliar loose nightshirt but one that gave her plenty of space to peek at the bindings on her side. The other bandage on her shoulder tugged and pinched, but the cut there didn't seem to sting. She pushed her hair back as Fatty walked in the door with a smile. He sat at her side and wrapped her in a gentle hug. "Oh Tella, it is good to see you awake. I didn't think it was possible for you to sleep that long! I've been so worried," he said. "Fatty. The ruffians? Do they know you're here? And...the Brownlocks? Our hole?" "Calm down sister." said Fatty. "Things went better than I planned." Fatty recounted the news that arrived from the Brownlocks just this morning, and things had gone just as they'd hoped. The quick clean up, changes and adjustments to their hole, the visits with all the neighbors, friends and family along the row begging them to quietly go along with the ruse, had paid off. The ruffians had left Number Four confused and frustrated, and Jack in particular, could not account for the discrepancy. The men visited all about the area the rest of the day questioning folk, but finally gave up. From the gossip at The Woody Grove, most of the region was secretly having a good chuckle from the trick Fatty and Filgard had managed to pull, and nearly all the locals were wholly behind Fatty in his response to the attack upon his sister. They were, however, all afraid to do such a thing themselves. And most recommended that the Bolgers stay out of sight for a time. There was some bad news to be told. Old Will Whitfoot, the mayor of the Shire, had taken the complaints of the Bolgers as well as others, up to Lotho at Bag End to protest the actions of the men who were causing mischief and gathering up winter stores. The news had just arrived in Buckland this morning that Will had been arrested, and taken to the Lockholes at Michel Delving. It seemed now that there was no mayor, no one to turn to, excepting Lotho perhaps, to protest against the behavior of these men. It was a chilling blow. Hobbits who may have earlier been prepared to protest loudly the action of the men within the Shire, suddenly held their tongues. If the mayor could be arrested for simply noting the problems, what of the regular folk? Estella sat back absorbing the information. Her joy at the safety of her home was contrasted with a feeling of hopelessness for the future. Everything that seemed wonderful and beautiful about the Shire was quickly slipping away. What had happened? How could it be stopped? What could the little people of the Shire do now? back to top Chapter 8: Brandy Hall The Bridge Inn had been a fixture on the West side of the Brandywine Bridge for as long as any hobbit could remember. Though it was a freestanding building, the vines and plants had long claimed territory along its sides, making it a patchwork of competing flora with a roof in full summer. With Yule having just passed, the squat and homey place was a tangle of brown leaves and dormant vines, with round windows peeking out from behind the dried tendrils. A thick chimney of stone that took up a broad section of its front wall always seemed to be puffing away, and the well worn floor shone smooth and polished with years of passing feet. Tonight the chairs scraped and scratched against the floor as usual, and the comfortable sound of half emptied mugs being set down upon the solid wood tables went unnoticed amidst the talking, and grumbling, of the regulars at the tavern. Lately, rumor was consistently the main source of discussion, but it seemed there was more truth than not to the tales. A blast of chill air swept into tavern when the round door swung open. A hush followed as a group of men entered the room, displacing a group of hobbits at the bar who scurried to get out of their way. In the corners, where the light from the fire didn't quite reach, a hobbit pulled his cloak tighter about his shoulders and kept his head in the darkness. His companion lifted his mug of ale and sipped slowly, allowing his eyes to remain fixed upon the new arrivals over the amber lip of his drink. Another at his table quietly rose and stepped back into the darkness and permitted himself a small smile. "Don't speak, just go," Fatty whispered to the first. Leaning down, he whispered to the other, "But Milo, you stay. And listen up. Listen careful now, and remember." Milo Grubb was a stocky, thick hobbit. His eyebrows were starting to bush up like his father's, but his usual humorous twinkle was now replaced by a clear call to duty. He took another slow swallow of his ale, and nodded resolutely. Milo remained unmoved as a swirl of cloaks faded into the dark hallway behind them, unnoticed and unmarked, except in a distracted sort of way by an amorous couple who whispered sweet nothings near the back door. The blanket of night shrouded their movements, but the quiet ways of hobbits were put into good use. No sound was made while crossing the yard to the new guard building that had gone up only weeks before. From the trees along the road another figure joined the two and together the three crept under the odd, rectangular windows and made their way to the door. It was not locked, but Fatty was careful as he turned the knob, sure that at any moment it would all be up. But to his relief, the pale light of the night cast a glow upon an empty room. The three hobbits quickly explored the room, checking for a guard and trouble. Doderic Brandybuck looked like the mirror image of his brother Ilberic, though he was two years older, claimed to be a full inch higher, and everyone said he had much curlier toe hair. But regardless of his stature or his toes, he still had to climb upon a stool to see out of the window that faced the Inn. "I think they're all in having a drink, even that big one with all the hair that usually hangs about outside," Doderic whispered. "I knew someone had a hoard of pipe-weed, look here!" Ilberic cried out in a loud whisper. "Barrels of Southern Star, and some Longbottom Leaf." He squinted in the darkness at the markings. "Hush now, we could have guessed that just from the scent in here, but seems someone's been working extra hours at the mill as well," Fatty said, fingering the labels on the bags of flour that stacked up higher than his head, "Flour and Pipeweed? This back room is full to the gills with enough supplies for an army." Doderic hopped down quietly and came over to look. "And here they keep making 'gatherin' visits up in Buckland saying they need more?" "Sandyman from Hobbiton," Fatty read the markings in the darkness. "They've been shipped over here from Westfarthing, but why so much and where are all the other goods they've taken from us hobbits?" "None of our goods are here," Doderic said, examining the crates of food that were stacked high in a corner. "The wax on these preserves is not marked from Brandy Hall, though I'll have you know they took enough from us before we barred up the exterior cellar. Hmm, there's a lot of peaches here as well, probably from Southfarthing; they had a bumper crop." Fatty nodded and looked around the room again. His plans would have to be re-thought a little, but while they had a chance he would do what he could. And he started with a barrel of pipeweed. "Come on then, I think we can relieve them of a little tonight." Hobbits don't usually move quickly when doing such things as loading or unloading supplies but this night they managed to sneak 11 small barrels of pipeweed out the door and down a small path that led to just below the bridge. There were large, scraggly bushes that were brown and scratchy, but tucked behind them the stash was invisible. It was their fourth trip out of the new guard house when Fatty and Ilberic, each with a barrel in hand, heard the approaching voices from across the road. They hurried to the cover of shadows within the trees just in time to see five of the tall, dirty men saunter over to the door. Fatty and Ilberic stared as the men entered the house and the door swung shut. "Doderic...was he behind or ahead?" "Behind!" Fatty whispered, gulping at the dryness that suddenly filled his mouth. Ilberic glanced at Fatty and back to the house, where his brother was sure to be found. A long silence stretched out, with nothing, not a sound. And no more than candle light illuminating the windows. Minutes ticked by and still no commotion, no appearance of any trouble. Fatty was feeling more and more disturbed at the prospect of one of his friends being caught because of his own schemes. And the incessant silence just made it worse. It had been over half an hour, with two hobbits staring at the door, shivering in the cold before Fatty could stand it no longer. "I'm going to haul this down to the bridge, and I'll return to carry yours down, you watch out for any sign." Ilberic nodded, and blew on his fingers. Fatty carefully made his way down the path to the bridge, quietly slipping under the support and behind the bushes. A sudden movement in the darkness made him jump, and a small squeak escaped his lips. "Who's there?" He hissed. To his utter relief, a curly short head appeared before him. "Just me, Milo!" "Oh!" Fatty let out a huge sigh. "You frightened me." "You've been long. I had thought you'd left for home already." Fatty shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "Doderic is inside the guard house, and couldn't get out before the men went in." Milo's mouth dropped open and hung there for a while, as Fatty nodded. The two returned to find Ilberic still waiting and having seen no change. Fatty's eyes burned with fear and frustration. "What to do now?" he asked himself. Somehow the prospect of leading any kind of resistance, which at one time seemed noble, now just felt overwhelmingly bold and the burden lay heavy upon his shoulders. With three pairs of eyes waiting for his next move, he clenched his teeth and knew he had to act, and act now. *** The morning arrived crisp and clear in Buckland. Far off to the East, above the Old Forest and the outside world, all manner of things unknown were occurring, but in the Shire, Estella was having breakfast. She had not felt this well in many days and was so pleased with her spirits and the general fading of the pain in her side that she had risen early and found that she was hungry. The merriment in the dining area was not dampened by rumors of trouble in various sections of the Shire the night before. Though it was early yet, most of the Brandybuck clan were already busy with the chores and duties of the day. It was midway through a second helping of eggs that she noticed a quiet group of hobbits slip inside and disappear down one of the many hallways. Four there were, all covered in dirt and mud from head to toe, and one limping significantly. Estella fought the sudden urge to follow them, but played with her eggs and swallowed from her cup as she pondered the sight. One thing she did know about the dirty hobbits, one of them was her brother. There was no mistaking his blue cloak, lined with green and yellow embroidery at the hem, now apparently spattered in mud and dirt. And there was no mistaking his physique. Clearly Fatty had been up to something, and with all the comments at the table of the growing number of confrontations with the men, Estella knew he was probably involved. It would just be a matter of catching him in his words for it to come out, but if he was in trouble he wouldn't mention it, not unless she forced his hand. She simply needed to think about how to do just that. "I think I can manage more than just mending today Celandine," Estella said, as she gathered up her dishes. "Are you sure? You are feeling well enough? I know that no one will be disappointed if you continue the mending ...you know that none of us are any good at it! And you're twice as fast, even when you're tired!" Estella laughed. Celandine and her many cousins could sew and mend, but they got to talking and tended to get distracted. It was rare for Estella to miss a stitch even if she was not thinking about it. But today she felt she needed a little more exercise. The last few days the most she had done was wander the tunnels and burrows of Brandy Hall, exploring the nooks and crannies she had never time to see before. Celandine had always lived at Brandy Hall, and gave a good tour, but today she wanted fresh air for her thoughts. After a morning walk down to the market, and sending off a note to her mother, Estella joined Celandine in the laundry, folding clothes, towels and tablecloths and sorting them according to their owners. The Hall had many things that were common, a large dining and gathering area, many kitchens and several laundry rooms. There were individual kitchens in most of the family quarters, small and tidy with little tables and small parlours in many of the rooms, but many only used their little kitchens for snacks and tea, spending the bigger meals with the extended family that was Brandy Hall. The laundry areas were stocked with wash basins, scrubbing boards and pressing irons with long fireplaces and rows and rows of hooks which were used to put up drying lines in the winter. Outside of the large hall on the South side were long stretches of clothes lines, but if it was very cold and dreary the inside lines had to do. However, today was a sunny day, cool and perfect for hanging out laundry. The wash had begun early and all the lines had been full all day, and hobbits were scrubbing busily to replace the linens that were dry. Celandine had been at her side for most of the morning and through lunch, keeping up a constant chatter and regularly fretting about Estella's strength. Estella, while feeling better, still was sore, but ironing out shirts and folding up towels was not now proving too difficult. It was near to tea when she finally decided to pay a visit to Fatty. The both of them were staying near the center of the Hall, as guests in the family quarters; Estella was put up with Esmeralda and Saradoc, the former who had kept a sharp eye out for her health and the latter who had brought her sweets when his wife wasn't looking. Fatty found a room with Celandine's family which occupied the very next section along the corridor. She paused briefly before the main door to where Fatty was staying and listened. There was some quiet talking but it was not clear enough to make out, so she gave the door a short rap and turned the knob. Much to her surprise, it was locked, but was opened quickly, with Fatty poking out his head. "Oh, Estella my dear!" he chirped, "How are you? You are looking better." She rolled her eyes and pushed past him into the little sitting area in the front of the room. Doderic and Ilberic, Celandine's brothers, sat quietly, nodding to her as she entered the parlor, and for a long awkward moment no one said a thing. "Hurt your foot Il?" Estella broke the silence, eyeing a bandage around Ilberic's ankle. "Just twisted it a little. Ruddy root jumped out at me." Estella smiled, and nodded, but began gently tugging Fatty at his sleeve, and he took the hint, walking slowly with her over to the corridor-like sitting area that led to a round window overlooking the Brandywine. She kept her voice low, but felt her curiosity was still getting the best of her as she finally began, "Get much rest last night?" Fatty edged closer to the window and looked out, the westering sun sparkled upon the slow moving river and reflected upon his face. "Of course, I always manage to rest well, sister." "So you aren't going to tell me what kind of behavior gets you as dirty as a pig in summer?" The grin faded to a wan smile and she could hear him grind his back teeth, "A pig? I may be sloppy and a little bit round, but I really don't think I should be called a pig!" "I saw you this morning!" she whispered harshly. "You were covered head to toe in dirt and mud. You were out in the night...weren't you?" Her eyes sparkled with fury, and she checked her movements as she glanced to see the two brothers at the table pretending not to be watching. He paused and his eyes dashed off behind her for a moment. Whatever his response, she was sure she already knew her answer. He chuckled and put his arm around her shoulder, turning her slightly to face the window with him and his eyes looked afar off across the banks and upon the Marish beyond. His voice was quiet, but calm, "No, no...I was here, safe and sound. Why would I be out and about in the night, you know how much I like my sleep?" He winked at her and his face softened, "You must have imagined it Tella...having been hurt and upset as you have been I can easily understand how you may see danger and trouble at every turn, but sister...you are worrying for no reason." His voice was full of concern and tenderness. Her eyes shifted from skepticism to annoyance. "Fatty. You can't lie any better to me than you can to Mama. I've heard the rumors ...where's your blue cloak? I know you are up to something!" Fatty smirked and shook his head slightly. Taking her hand he walked down the little hallway to the small room where he slept. From a little row of pegs along the side of a small cupboard, Fatty handed her his cloak, very free of mud or dirt. "I am telling you, all is well. You have no reason to be worrying about me. It is you that I am concerned about." He paused and cocked his head slightly. "Seeing things now are we? You should lie down and rest this afternoon." Hanging his cloak up once more, he sat on the bed, noting her face was now one full of confusion. "Do not worry for me. You must take care of yourself. Tella...these men and these times will pass, and you and I will return home, just like it was before." Estella clutched the doorframe to keep things from spinning as she tried to fit the pieces together, and nothing seemed to match up. "It made no sense!" she thought, puzzled at the turn of events. "His cloak is clean and dry, he does seem well rested and genuinely calm. But no...It was Fatty I saw, and he was filthy, it had to have been!" Her mind was racing with questions, and yet the answers all seemed hollow. It was true he had time to clean himself up, but to get his clothing all clean? "Could I have made a mistake? Could it have been someone else I saw? It was clear across the Hall...No, it had to have been him, and Ilberic had a sore ankle, but why deny it? Why lie to me? He is always honest, usually too honest! Still, how did he do it?" She sat on his bed and Fatty pulled her close, tucking his arm around her as she stared across the room, thinking how she was in the laundry all morning. "The cloak surely would have caught my eye if he had sent it to be cleaned, and he would not have been able to properly manage it himself!" She smiled slightly; if there was one thing she did know, Fatty did not have laundry skills! Perhaps it really was another she had seen. Blue cloaks were not uncommon, nor were round shaped hobbits within Brandy Hall. Reflecting back upon how easy it was to get him to confess to his involvement in Frodo's departure back in Crickhollow, she questioned her own quick rush to judgement. He was a horrible liar, and now he looked as honest as ever. She shook her head to clear the jumble of thoughts, and met her brother's eyes. "I am sorry Fatty...I should not have doubted you...I...I just want you to be safe. The men..." "The men don't belong here, and they will not stay." His voice was firm and determined, and a burning was in his eyes as he spoke. But just as quick as she noticed, he seemed placid and jolly once more. He smiled and patted her on the back. "You just need to take it easy, rest a little." The swirl of thoughts in her head were now just confusing, and she suddenly felt tired. "You are right, I will rest dear brother," she said distractedly. He nodded as she rose to go, his weak smile fading as she left and his concern for his sister growing by the moment. Taking her leave, she wandered along the hallway back towards her room. It had been over a week since she had arrived at Brandy Hall and been nursed back to health by Esmeralda. At first it had been uncomfortable, knowing that she knew more about Merry's departure than his own mother. She quickly learned, however, that Esmeralda was more than easy to befriend. She had always been a relatively well-known hobbit in these parts of Buckland, first as cousin of Old Ferumbras, the Thain of Tookland since as long as Estella could remember, and then marrying Saradoc Brandybuck, who now held the title of Master of the Hall. But her relative prominence in the community did not detract one bit from the tireless service she rendered to all the hobbits in the region. In fact, Estella was stunned at the amount of time and effort Esmeralda spent each day helping those within the Hall in need of aid or care. Even now, she knew that Esmeralda would not be within, for today she was offering assistance to several new mothers up at the top end of the hall. But now, within the little cozy room, she could feel it had a comfort of its own. The love of a mother, caring for her child echoed in its walls. And Esmeralda's gentle ways had expressed themselves upon Estella, and she felt safe here. "If ever I had to choose someone to care for me as my own mother, it would be Esmeralda," she thought with a grateful smile. Resting quietly on the bed, Estella now did not feel tired. Thoughts raced through her head and she began to question her own senses. She tried to sleep; simply lying there felt lovely, but something was amiss and she could feel it. Frustrated at her inability to rest she got up and began to examine the little pile of books in the corner. They had not been touched in quite sometime; they were dusty and pages that hadn't been turned for years stuck together, but after a little searching she found an interesting little book to flip through as she rested. There was no title, and several pages had words or sentences scratched out in spots. She gingerly turned the small pages and found that in between many of the folds were envelopes with dried leaves, and on others, fine detailed drawings of leaves, herbs and flowers. The pages that looked finished had drawings and characteristics of the plants, but the later pages were clearly unfinished works in progress. "I suppose it is Merry's," she thought. "I didn't realize he had such a steady hand, or that he was all that interested in plants. No wonder he was so involved with Frodo's new garden." Pondering the excellent description of the raspberry bush, Estella suddenly felt hungry and headed to the small kitchen area where Esmeralda had her own personal pantry. She looked at the jars of preserves, and was considering just which one would go best with the slices of bread on her plate when her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of low voices in the hall. At first she didn't note them, for folks often walked and spoke softly in the many passageways of Brandy Hall. It was a massive place, often compared to a warren, and had many corridors and open areas and seemed to be bursting with hobbits and activities at all times. But, one voice sounded familiar as the conversation seemed to get closer. She set down her plate and quietly listened at the door. "If you tell mother I will shave off all your toe hair!" The soft sound of a stifled chuckle echoed along the corridor, "I'd like to see you try that, but not to worry. Mother would wring us both out good if she knew." "She will ask if she sees that cut..." "She won't see it, Il...not unless you point it out! Besides she's more likely to worry about your ankle." "Did you have Toby take a look at it?" another voice interrupted. "No, it'll be fine..." "It was too dangerous," a new voice chimed in, "I never should have involved you..." "No, Fatty, something has to be done. These brutes cannot come in and take over the Shire. We have to do what we can." Her eyes grew wide, as she realized Fatty and his companions were just outside. The voices were already fading as they passed the door and continued down the passage. "What was he up to? He lied to me about being out last night?" she now wondered in a growing state of panic and surprise. "I agree," the fading voice argued. "If we do not stop these men now, how far will it go? They will hurt our sisters, our wives and mothers...the children? What will it take, our homes destroyed? We will be no more than servants to the ruffians!" "That has to be Ilberic, Celandine's brother, who was speaking," she thought. His voice was higher and slightly whiney, though it was getting more difficult to hear. "They have already burned out holes and homes in Hobbiton and Bywater, who is next?" By now, their voices were getting far enough away that she had to strain to hear. She quietly cracked the door open and peeked out, seeing their shadows just barely around a bend before her. Though the thought of being caught eavesdropping was humiliating, she simply had to know what was happening. "Fatty is my brother after all," she told herself as she followed, as silent as she could, behind them down the corridor. "Well, I'm glad to have your support...but next time we will have to be more careful." Fatty now spoke, determination in his voice. "You were lucky, Dody, that they didn't catch you." "Luck had nothing to do with it Fatty, it was pure skill. That, and an excellent acting job on your part! Everyone knows I'm a master at being silent when necessary!" "Silent?" Milo Grubb scoffed. "You call breaking a window, tumbling to the ground, cutting yourself and squealing silent?" Doderic snickered and jabbed Milo softly. "Well, it would have been silent if not for the dratted hinge. I don't know how those men can stand it, living everyday with such shoddy and strange workmanship." "I had trouble not laughing when Fatty spilled ale all over that big hairy one's boots." "Aye, so did I!" said Fatty with a chuckle. "Good thing Aunt Lulu was washing earlier, or your sister would have caught you in your lies for sure," Ilberic said chortling, nudging Fatty as they headed around the bend. Estella gasped, and quickly clamped her hand over her mouth as the four paused as if listening and hurried on, momentarily quiet. She leaned against the wall and tried to run through the conversation again. "So they were out last night, and they all were hiding it from me!" she thought angrily. "But what were they up to? It sounded like they were mixing with the men; trouble to be sure." It made sense in some twisted way, that Aunt Lulu, the ancient hobbit that lived in a little house just outside the fringes of the Hall, would have been able to manage cleaning them up. Though even Estella couldn't remember just exactly whose aunt she was, she was definitely an expert at cleaning, for Estella had worked with her before. She could sew a snag or a tear with such precision that even Estella could barely tell, and she always needed a little extra income. "Throw in a few more coins and she would be silent as the grave," she thought grimly. It was no good now to follow or ask; Fatty clearly wasn't going to tell her anything, but her anxiety was growing. They were up to no good, and they were planning on more trouble. *** Darkness had fallen and although he had been out with his growing band of rebels nearly every night since he arrived, causing trouble and stealing supplies in various spots in and around Buckland, he still had a knot in his stomach from what had happened on their latest trip to the Bridge. The simple mistakes they made nearly nipped the whole scheme in the bud. He had kept up the pretense that he was only heading to the tavern in Buckland or that he checked in on Crickhollow, and Estella seemed to have believed his tales, but most of his anxiety seemed to come from having to keep her out of it "They will pay," he thought angrily, a secret anger that he kept burning within him. "If not for their evil ways I wouldn't be forced to lie to her. I wouldn't have to be out here on a chilly night laying plans for trouble if not for their own cruelty. It was their own fault for coming where they weren't wanted." Tonight they were back at the Bridge Inn, awaiting another chance to relieve the men of some of their spoils. He let out a puff of frustration, as he thought about how planning mischief was much more difficult than it sounded. The men would catch on sooner or later, even as dim as they were, so they had to take precautions. So far their luck had held, and not much went amiss in the last few nights. He had picked up a few more conspirators each evening, the extra eyes and ears had proved helpful. At first he thought the fact that Estella had been harmed would make most the hobbits fearful of being involved, but it had proved to encourage most of them to help in some way, perhaps as a way to prevent similar dealings with their own sisters. Their plans tonight involved emptying the guard house of its stolen goods. Small boats waited beneath the foot of the Brandywine Bridge, for loading and for a rapid escape down to Brandy Hall. Fatty still wasn't sure about these boats. To him they were wobbly and frightening, but some of the younger Bucklanders were skilled, and they hadn't capsized yet. Because of his large scale plans tonight, he had rounded up a group of twenty-seven hobbits from Buckland and East Farthing to be involved in some way. Many were just to drink and relax at the bar; the more folk that had their eyes and ears to the ground the better. But others had been specifically chosen to sneak the goods from the guard house and down to the bridge as quickly and quietly as possible. As he watched the evening unfold, the Inn seemed to be bursting with activity, both from his allies and the locals. The owner of the Inn knew of the plans, and was only more than pleased to host a few extra hobbits at his tables during the course of the evening. Tonight, there was drinking and some lads table dancing making a loud ruckus that echoed along the curved arches that held up the thatched roof. As the men arrived one by one, they seemed in a cheery mood, and smiled and laughed at the antics of the hobbits tonight. Even Fatty smiled from the darkness of the corner; it was a perfect distraction. He didn't waste much time. Once the men had arrived he and about half of his fellow conspirators that were within the tavern slowly vanished one by one to the outside, and to the guard house. Finding it empty once more, a few from the group entered, only to see that the supplies had changed dramatically. "You said you saw four carts headed out the Great Road?" Fatty whispered to Hob Proudfoot, who lived very near. "There could have been more, I only said I saw four, and them that I did see were near to sunset." "There had to have been more; four carts filled to the top could not have haluled off as much food as is gone now. I suppose we should have acted quicker...No matter, let's do what we can." All seemed to be going according to plan, supplies were being lifted and snuck down the trail to the bridge with astonishing speed and stealth. With the bags of flour and jars of fruit quickly vanishing, Fatty left his crew and walked around the building, carefully looking for any sign of trouble. He smiled to himself that there was very little sound coming from the guard house, despite the number of hobbits and supplies that were coming and going down paths. Quietly making his way down a separate path through a little thicket of trees to a small glade, he hung in the shadows peering for any sign of men. A little further, out in the open there stood a small corral that housed the horses, cows and pigs that the men owned or had stolen. It was not very well put together, and he laughed to himself that the men wouldn't really be able to pin the blame on anyone except themselves as he popped off the hinges to the gate and it fell to the ground with a great crash. Fatty covered his mouth in surprise at the noise, and chided himself for not just opening the gate. Too late he realized the noise had spooked the horses, and they had set off in a full gallop, alarming the other creatures and all of them dashed straight towards him. He stumbled around in fright and tried to avoid flying hooves as he blindly darted into the cover of trees to get out of the way. The change in light was sudden and he tripped and fell, only to notice that as he got to his hands and knees there were boots right in front of him. Before he knew it, he was being lifted by the back of his collar up to the unhappy face of one of the men. "You!" the man growled. Fatty's eyes flew wide and full blown panic set in as he recognized Jack, the very brute who had attacked his sister. He screamed and hollered, and flailed and kicked his way out of the ruffian's grasp and threw a clump of dirt up into Jack's eyes as he dashed back to the road. Then he raced past the guard house screaming for his friends to flee at once. A flurry of hobbits poured out of the guard house and down to the bridge as the door to the Inn flew open. More hobbits and men emptied out in response to the racket. The man Jack had lost him in the trees but was now raising the alarm. Chaos ensued as hobbits and men all became aware of some kind of trouble. Torches suddenly appeared, and hobbits guilty and innocent were nabbed and held roughly by the men. "What have I done?" Fatty thought with horror. He couldn't believe his eyes, as he watched from the shadows. "How had everything gone so wrong?" There was nothing for it; he had to do something, now! He grabbed a torch that had been dropped in a scuffle and raced forward out of the darkness, dodging the swipe of one man, and held it under the hairy arm of the one holding Doderic. The man shouted out in rage as his sleeve caught fire and he snatched the torch and flung it over near the Inn, dropping Doderic to the ground as he frantically slapped out the flames. Fatty and Doderic made for the bridge, and between gasps they whistled with their fingers, a high pitched three note jingle, and repeated it as they could. The sight of a hobbit lighting a man on fire was enough for an uproar from the men who were still arriving from within the Inn. The locals had now begun to scream and run around hysterically. A horse galloped down the main road amidst the scattering hobbits, the men were swinging fists and sticks, some fighting one another, and soon pigs trotted around in the mix. Fatty and Doderic arrived at the banks of the river, to see wide-eyed boat handlers awaiting them with boats near full with supplies. Milo waved at them and whispered loudly, "Quick, Fatty, jump on, we have more boats for the others coming." "Berilac already passed over the bridge with Tolgard," Fatty said as he gasped for breath. Stepping down upon a seat of flour sacks, he gripped the sides with fright as the boat tottered and dipped heavily to one side. Doderic hopped in and the little boat dipped to the other side, both of them shouting out, "Whoa!" As the boat began to catch the current and they aimed towards the Ferry landing, Fatty looked back to see the shadowy forms of five more boats, carrying part of his band behind him in the darkness. Just as he began to sigh with relief at a mostly successful escape, a bright light seemed to burst forth from across the water. The smoke and flame dancing in a great orange glow left no doubt, The Bridge Inn was afire. The thatched roof and dried foliage caught the flames and it was burning quick and bright. Men shouted and pointed from the Bridge as they spied the little trail of boats headed downstream, and the hobbits watched aghast as more torches were set to the Inn and the neighboring sheds and houses. They could see the tiny forms of frantic hobbits running and pulling one another from the burning buildings and the screaming seemed to echo horribly across the valley. Fatty stared in silence; a wave of nausea swept over him as the flames licked up at the night sky. It was too late before Doderic realized how close they had come to the Ferry landing, and in his attempt to turn the boat closer to the dock they began to tip and wobble. If Fatty thought it couldn't get any worse, he suddenly changed his mind. The seconds seemed like minutes as they shifted heavily from one side to the other. The oars flipped up and the last bits of balance was lost. The boat overturned and bags of flour splashed down upon Fatty and Doderic, who were dumped upside down into the chill water along with them. Within moments, Fatty bobbed to the surface, flailing madly as he tried to grip the capsized boat. Doderic was on the other side yelling for Fatty to reach for the dock that was rapidly nearing. There was only ringing in his ears as he tried to tell himself that if he held on he wouldn't drown. A boat from behind quickly caught up to them as they spun around in the water, crashing into the side, barely missing Doderic as he scrambled to stay afloat. Though the boats were now turning about, Doderic managed to grip the side of the other boat, and Milo pulled him upward to safety. Fatty spun around with the slippery and wobbly bottom side of the boat and was yelling in panic when a rope smacked him in the face from the Ferry dock. Its sting was welcome against the prospect of continuing downstream, and he clutched to the lifeline desperately, ever aware of the river current rushing against him as a stout Bucklander pulled him to the pier. Wet and shivering, he watched the Inn burn, now a distant smudge of orange far past and across the river. His teeth chattered incessantly and he simply nodded as the remainder of the little boats arrived. He was stunned, and felt completely powerless to act or do, unfit to lead these lads he had brought into these troublesome events. Someone wrapped a woolen blanket around his shoulders and his friends and kin worked around him quietly, unloading the stolen supplies. "Did we see Andy, or Gorbac?" he finally pulled himself together to voice one of the many questions pouring through his mind. "Andy was nabbed right off, and Gorbac ran down to the Burrows with Carl and Poppy." It was Ilberic who had just stepped off the last boat with the news. "Take a dip in the river did we?" Fatty glared at Ilberic but nodded, pulling the blanket about him closer. "The Inn, I can't believe they burned it!" Doderic said as he shivered and chattered nearby. "Did Hob and Bisco get away?" Milo asked frantically. "I think so," Ilberic said as he tied up the last boat. "They saw us headed downstream, it's only a matter of time now," Fatty said with a calm that he didn't feel. "Then we must away before they arrive," Ilberic said as he nudged Fatty out of his thoughts. Fatty nodded, and then gathered his wits about him. "Quick now, to Brandy Hall." He turned and hurried up the lane, rapidly heading for the first steps up to the great smial of Buckland. He was followed by the remainder of his band, and each dashed inside and down various corridors, silently and swiftly making preparations to leave. The news quickly raced through the Hall and despite the late hour many hobbits were now awake assisting their kin. The group of them met up again only minutes after they arrived, near a corner of the Great Hall going over plans. Fatty quickly made his way down to them, fastening clean shirt buttons and adjusting his trousers as he went. He knew that if the men searched Brandy Hall they would be found, and he would be recognized. And if they found him...it would not be long before they found Estella. "And that will not happen!" he thought to himself angrily, as he pulled his heavy cloak over his shoulders. The last of his rebel friends had arrived, and they headed towards a back entrance, where ponies awaited their escape. As the hall emptied, Fatty looked backward into the yawning arches and the comfortable fireplace behind him, and heard his name being called. "Fatty!" It was Estella, running along a far corridor entrance in her nightgown. Doderic patted Fatty on the shoulder and nodded. "We will be waiting." Fatty dashed back within and caught Estella in an embrace, and she sobbed uncontrollably, "Fatty, you can't go! You can't leave me here!" "I must, that man Jack is coming to find me. We caused trouble enough for the folk near the Bridge. I will not allow them to have cause to burn Brandy Hall." "Oh Fatty!" she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "Where will you go?" "The Brockenbores. They will never find us up in there. You just keep out of sight when they come." Estella gulped and nodded, struggling against her fear to find some hope. Understanding the landscape up near the hills of Scary was hard enough for hobbits that had lived there for years, but it would be very difficult to find anyone who hid up in the tunnels if they didn't know their way around. "Yes," she thought to herself, "it is probably their best bet...if they can just get there!" "Do be careful!" Estella pled as she hugged him farewell. "And send word somehow. I may have been wounded by men, but it would be far worse to not know of your fate." He gently brushed her cheek with his hand and gave her a half smile before he turned and vanished out into the darkness and to the waiting ponies. back to top Chapter 9: Troubling Warnings Deep within the Great Smials of the Tooks, Rosa Bolger looked up from her sewing, startled at the sudden commotion that echoed down the corridors. It had been a fortnight since she left Woody Row to visit her family, and immediately upon her arrival, she had received a note from the Brownlocks, informing her of the worrisome situation her two children had got into with the men. She wanted to leave straight away and tend to poor Estella, but her brother Ferdinand refused to allow it. Even Thain Paladin had heard the news and dropped in to recommend her staying, for it was clear he suspected even more trouble to come. She had been very near to leaving despite their warnings and suggestions, but she was thwarted by the snow. For several days, while things were white and then slowly began to melt, she fretted and worried. A note from Esmeralda Brandybuck, however, arrived a few days later, calming her fears somewhat. Rosa had long been friends with her second cousin Esmeralda, and knew that if Estella was in her hands at Brandy Hall that she couldn't ask for a better comfort. In fact, Esmeralda made it very clear she had not only taken Estella in to her own rooms, but was giving her special care. The shouting and clatter down the tunnel was growing louder and Rosa headed down to see what the matter was. A cluster of hobbits surrounded two others who had just arrived from the outside. One was making quite a loud fuss, howling and thrashing about as others helped him forward. "I got one, I just know I did," he said between short, panting breaths and moans of pain. "Aye, you did Ted," said another, who hissed with a sharp intake of breath. Once Rosa caught sight of the both of them she paled. The first was being carried hurriedly along the passage, and as he passed she could see he had an arrow sticking out of his thigh. The thick bolt was deeply embedded and he was covered in blood. The other followed, with someone on either side, helping him as he held a bloodied cloth to his forehead. Until now, Tookland had been quiet, though most of the folk knew it was only a matter of time before the men would arrive and attempt the same "gathering" tactics upon them as they had other hobbits in surrounding villages. From what Rosa had heard from her relatives, the Thain had been discussing what to do about it for some time. He had instructed several of his large extended family to keep a sharp eye out, and he had armed some with bows and arrows, and set strategic positions to guard the region. But had he anticipated this? Before she could think on anything she'd just seen, the main doors again opened. Five breathless hobbits rushed inside and sped down the corridor, one yelling out, "Where'd he go? Is he all right? Where's the Thain?" Rosa was so stunned she simply backed against the wall and pointed toward the tunnel that the wounded had been taken and watched them start down it. One of the lads stopped abruptly and eyed her up and down oddly before looking in a leather pouch that was slung over his shoulder. "Rosa Took...er Bolger, right?" She nodded slowly, confused. He found what he had been looking for and handed it to her. She nodded gratefully and he rushed on to follow his companions. It was from Estella, from Buckland! She slowly followed others down to the Great Hall, turning the letter over in her hands gingerly. There was much commotion in the room and worried, hushed discussion. But all Rosa could see was the parchment before her. It was still warm from being tucked closely to the lad under his jacket and cloak as he made his way up to Tookland. Rosa spread it out and despite the buzz around her and read. Rosa sighed with relief. At least it seemed things weren't so bad in Buckland. She looked up and realized just how much chatter was all about her in the hall. After a few minutes, Paladin arrived and immediately had everyone's attention. "Not to worry, Ted is going to be all right, and Sal too," he said. "I have spoken with the lads who were out and about today, and the men are none too pleased to be hindered in their attack on Laila and Ponto Tunnelly." Several hobbits nodded and whispered at the mention of the couple, whom were well known for bringing up sharp cheeses from South Farthing once a month to sell in Tookland. "They were stealing from the Tunnellys and our Ted managed to shoot one. It seemed to scare the most away. Though, it's plain they mean to use force to get what they want, and by the look of Ted's leg, they don't seem to care if it could mean killing hobbits," he continued as the group grew quiet. "It is as I guessed, they want to just come in and bother us Tooks just like they have for the folks in Hobbiton, and round abouts. But I won't stand for it!" he exclaimed as he pounded a fist against the table. "Lotho down at Bag End may think he's Mayor, but I, as Thain, will not stand aside and let this happen." There was much excited chatter and some scattered applause at this, and a few voices of alarm. Paladin held up a hand and everybody quieted once more. "My kin, I cannot say what we can do for all the Shire, but I do know that Tookland will not be handled so easily as other parts. I've news from Buckland that the Brandybucks are standing up, though the cost is beginning to rise. Bridge Inn, across the river has been burned by the men, and several hobbits are in hiding." A shocked silence and a few quiet whispers echoed through the hall. Rosa could barely believe her ears. She held in her hand a note of calm reassurance, and the news she'd just heard seemed the opposite. "Surely if the Bridge Inn was burned, Estella would have mentioned it," she thought. Her eyes grew wide as she remembered Estella's words about Fatty's recent odd behavior. "Fatty!" she said aloud, quickly covering her mouth with her hands. The room had fallen silent and Rosa's voice seemed to echo, even in the stuffy Great Hall. Paladin's eyes met her own and she felt a blush creep up her neck. He nodded at her slightly and continued to speak. "I've increased our watches. Tookbank hasn't been bothered with yet, and they don't seem smart enough to have found many of the folks along the Stock road where the trees are so thick, but over at Waymeet they have already been visited. We will keep them out if we can, but I must warn you to keep your lasses close in to Tuckborough. The news from all corners is not good, these men are not courteous. And the trouble may be getting worse before it gets better." *** The sun was dropping low on the horizon and the sky was shifting from blue to peach and then a magnificent pink as it began to sink behind the hills. Estella hurried to finish up the patch to the knee of the little pair of hobbit trousers she was mending. She held it up to the pinkish glow of the window and examined her handiwork. It was the fifth pair she had done in a row, "And each the left knee, how odd," she thought as she folded the clothing and placed it on top of the others. She stood and stretched out her legs; soon it would be too dark up here in the loft parlour to mend much more. She paused to look out the window at the sun as it dropped below the horizon. The loft parlour was more of a long wide hallway that didn't really lead to much, but overlooked one of Brandy Hall's great rooms. It had six round windows all in a row, bringing light to the loft and area below. Estella had found it to be a quiet refuge in such a busy place as this overgrown hobbit hole. The sound of one of the solid round doors thumping shut echoed from below her and she glanced down to see one of the post messengers running down a hallway. They had been busy as of late; the last four days had brought a frenzy of notes and letters from all across the Shire, wanting to know about the Bridge Inn burning, wanting to know if the Brandybucks were all well, and where some of the hobbits who had been involved in the incident were hiding. Estella fingered several folded notes of her own, already worn on the edges from her handling them, as they were tucked carefully into her skirt pocket. The most cherished was a note from Fatty. She still couldn't believe it, and regularly checked to verify that she was not just imagining it. The night he left as one of the most frightening she had spent, and that was saying a lot considering recent events! She hadn't slept at all. Every couple of hours the great doors of Brandy Hall would echo with knocking and men outside demanding entry. Saradoc, nightcap and all, bustled and complained loudly all the way down to the door and answered himself, sending them away, denying any knowledge of the missing rebellious hobbits and feigning ignorance and surprise at the events across the bridge. Despite this, the men had threatened to enter and search, but the possibility of facing a warren full of tired cranky hobbits that vastly outnumbered them kept them from actually carrying it out. The thought of men roaming about Brandy Hall was horrifying, but her worry for Fatty nearly overwhelmed her and she spent most of the night weeping. By morning the men backed off, having received a tip that the hobbits in question were no longer in Buckland. The tip, much to his own personal satisfaction, had been manufactured by Saradoc himself. A simple note, with a promise of a nice barrel of ale for one of the local farmers, managed to generate the information that Fatty and his gang had crossed at Bucklebury in the night and headed off to Tookland, which kept the men from bothering with Brandy Hall, at least for the moment. Early this morning a post messenger had arrived from the Bridgefields and she had been surprised to get two letters. One was from her Aunt Primrose, who very cryptically and carefully mentioned she had a nice visit with some of their closest kin, and that they were both well and on their way. But the other letter was from Fatty himself, and posted from Scary. He didn't detail too much and the handwriting was rushed, but she knew he was safe, and that is what mattered. If they had made it to Scary, she knew that by now they were protected in the caves that riddled the hills behind the small village. Fatty and Estella had played there during several summer visits to the area and explored the labyrinth of caves and tunnels that most folks referred to as the Brockenbores. He and the lads who went with him had not crossed the Brandywine at Bucklebury (as Saradoc had indicated), but they'd gone along the river path north all night and crossed at the Girdley Island Ferry. It was a very sparsely populated area, and no doubt the men weren't even aware that the Bracegirdles kept the Ferry at all up that way. But their escape being successful, Fatty sent several of his gang in various directions, hoping that they could re-emerge into their lives without being associated with the trouble at the Bridge. Ilberic, Doderic and several others refused to leave and they were busy plotting their next move. Estella made her way down a sloped corridor and began toward the dining hall, where she noticed the growing murmur from the hobbits gathering for dinner and talking about the latest news. Celandine was setting down a large platter of sausages and quickly rushed to her side. She whispered, "Estella, did you hear?" Estella looked confused and walked with Celandine into the kitchen to help bring out more dishes. "No, what?" "The men are building a big spiked gate at the bridge! I saw it myself this morning," she exclaimed. "A gate? On the bridge? Why?" Celandine shrugged, "One can only assume it is to keep closer tabs on us hobbits, and to hinder the likes of hobbits like Il and Dody, or Fatty." "Will they leave it up all the time? Will we be able to cross?" Estella asked, beginning to panic at the prospect of having to ask permission from men to simply cross the river. "I don't know! I didn't ask them, I just saw it from the hill," Celandine replied, now chewing nervously on a dinner roll she'd swiped from Estella's tray. Estella sat down and looked worried now. She fingered the notes in her pocket and remembered the third one she had received not two hours after the note from Fatty. It was from Marigold. "She was right after all," Estella said to herself. "Hmm?" Celandine asked. Estella looked up, confused, and realized she must've spoken aloud. "Oh, nothing. Oh! I forgot to tell you!" she exclaimed, "I got a note from Marigold Gamgee this morning, right after you left to town. I had almost forgotten I got it, being so excited to hear from Fatty and Ilberic and all, but it is dreadful news...well, and good news." "Dreadful and good?" Celandine's eyes widened and she spread more butter on a roll. "Indeed. Things are not good in Hobbiton. Up at Bag End, Lotho has taken to ripping all sorts of the plants out, and then he told all the folk on Bagshot row they had to move out! She says Lotho claims it is to repair the holes and manage the mice, but I know there are no mice to worry about at Number Three." Estella poked at the table emphatically. "Must be the gold he's looking for, the rumors..." "Old Bilbo never buried gold. He had his own treasures, but they weren't the kind you dig for!" "You and I know that, but Lotho doesn't." "Yes, that is what Marigold thinks too, that he is looking for treasure, but he's ripped out walls and everything. Number Two had the whole roof cave in!" "Oh dear!" Estella nodded and sighed, "Marigold and her Gaffer have moved up into the town. The men built some small houses there, but if I remember right they build nasty square things, probably with a draft. But she told me that she thought the men would start causing more mischief out this way, and it seems she's right." Celandine nodded slowly and patted Estella on the hand. "You said there was good news though. I long for any good news nowadays." Estella smiled and nodded, "Yes, amid all this trouble there is good news. Marigold has won the heart of Tom Cotton." Celandine gasped and began to grin, "Oh my! Tom! It's about time!" Estella giggled and nodded again, "They are to be married in the summer, but with all this commotion and them losing their place on Bagshot Row, I imagine it will be a quiet affair." "Indeed! Did she say how he asked or...?" "No, she only wrote a little, I am anxious to ask her, and find out what she will need me to help her with, but I'm a trifle worried about sending a note off, when I've not even seen this road she says she lives on in Hobbiton. None of it makes sense." Estella shook her head. The two finished dinner and helped out in the kitchen, talking and discussing the latest news and their concerns about their brothers. Celandine had also received a note from Ilberic, but he was very brief, and even less specific than Fatty had been, mostly urging Celandine to keep their mother from worrying. The evening was quite cool, and the two donned their heavy cloaks to take a meal over to a family that recently had welcomed twins. The new mother was exhausted and the extra food from Brandy Hall would be much appreciated and needed to keep the little family going. It was a pleasure for Estella to get out and visit and hold little ones on her lap. The pain from her injuries was nearly gone, and the scratches had faded away. Afterwards Celandine and Estella bid the family farewell and set out for home. The hour was getting late, and above them the stars twinkled brightly in the darkened sky. Their quiet talking was cheerful and relaxed as they walked, but Estella stopped mid-sentence and paused her stride as she listened at an unfamiliar sound. Celandine had heard it also, and clutched Estella's arm softly. Keeping very quiet and still the two peered into the shadows of the brush and trees about them, backing slowly to the safety of the darkness behind a large bush. Estella listened intently. After a moment or two the silence remained unbroken and they both relaxed a bit. Estella dared a quiet whisper, close to Celandine's ear. "I don't know what it was but I think we should run." Celandine nodded. Her face was pale in the darkness and her eyes were darting about nervously. Their hands clasped and they paused, very close to one another as they waited for the right moment. The pathway seemed clear, and the bushes and trees were motionless. Without a word the two began a mad dash down the lane together towards Brandy Hall, the soft sound of their feet against the path seemed to pound loudly to their ears. Estella was slightly ahead, when suddenly her arm wrenched harshly behind her, as if Celandine had reversed direction. She lost her grip on Celandine's hand, and though momentum drove her further along the path, she turned just in time to see a man seize Celandine from behind and pull her into the darkness of the nearby trees. Estella's jaw dropped in horror, as she stumbled to a backward halt along the path and wondered what to do. Too late, she realized that the man was not alone, as another stepped out into the pale light and started toward her. Scrambling in retreat, she tripped rearward right into the arms of yet another man who moved out of the shadows behind her. A massive arm hoisted her up and a hand quickly clamped about her mouth, preventing the scream that had risen in her throat. Her captor followed the other into the semi-darkness of the thicket and a deep voice behind Estella's ear spoke gruffly. "Now, Miss, there's no use screaming, no one is around to hear you." As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she could see Celandine similarly confined in the arms of a rotund, balding man. A younger, thin man was tying rope around her hands and she was making muffled whimpers behind the hand that covered her mouth. "Here now, tie this one up and set that one down, we have to make sure we have the right one this time," said the man holding Estella. "They all look alike to me, I don't know how we're supposed to..." began the balding man. "We meet again little one," the deep voice from the shadows sent chills down her spine as Estella turned to see a familiar face in the darkened grove. She tried to swallow but suddenly her mouth seemed dry. "Jack! There ya are. This the one, then?" the man holding Estella asked. He yanked at her curls to pull her face into a patch of pale light that filtered through the scraggly branches arching high above them. "How can you be sure, it's dark and they all seem to have the same hair, and last time you..." began the younger man as he began tying Estella's hands tightly with rough rope. "Shuddup, Henry," Jack hissed. Jack strode over hastily and pushed the young man aside as he seized Estella by the collar of her cloak. He yanked the side of her bodice and blouse upward suddenly, exposing the long pink scar along her side in the dim light. Estella yelped in pain and embarrassment, and struggled against the rope around her wrists to pull the clothing back down as Celandine gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, despite her own bonds. "I've been looking for you m'dear," Jack said with a satisfied grin, releasing her and allowing her to fall to the ground with a thud. Estella winced as her knees hit the ground but she managed to get back on her feet and tug at her bodice despite the beefy hand that clamped tightly about one of her arms. The balding man pointed at Celandine and asked, "So what do we do with this one, then?" Celandine squeaked and began to shake uncontrollably, and large tears spilled down her cheeks in terror. "Well, now, Miss. What shall we do with you?" Jack said with contempt. "Silus says we..." Henry began, but Jack held up a hand and silenced him with a look. "I think this one will cooperate. We just need to ask her a few questions is all, isn't that right Don?" Jack said as he nodded to the balding man holding Celandine still despite her whimpering. Jack snatched a fistful of curls and pulled Celandine away from the others. "Here now lassie, stop your whining," he growled. "Your friend here, she needs to come with me." Celandine sniffed and sniveled, trying to pull herself together as she stared wide eyed at the man before her who was squatting and now face to face with her. "No...Please..." she managed to croak. "Now, don't you worry...we'll take excellent care of your friend," he said with a chuckle. He turned and frowned back at Estella and suddenly barked, "Mort! Don't you let that one move, she's slippery." Thick hands suddenly clamped down hard upon Estella's shoulders. Turning back to Celandine his face shifted to a half smile, "Tell me...have you heard from a particular halfling named Fatty Bolger over in your little warren?" Somehow Celandine's eyes grew wider and she glanced at Estella in panic. Their eyes met and Estella, though quite immobile, subtly tried to indicate that Celandine shouldn't say anything. Jack turned and eyed Estella wryly, and moved to block Celandine's view. He drew closer to Celandine, and lowered his voice considerably so that only she could hear. "Oh ho, so you aren't sure on what to say? Well how 'bout I help that out?" His face turned from mocking to severe and the starlight glinted through the trees onto the dagger he held to her neck as he nearly whispered, "Tell me what you've heard." Estella couldn't see Celandine but was sure the man was threatening her. The solid hands of her own captor rested on her shoulders like sweaty boulders. The minutes stretched slowly on as the quiet discussion continued without more than the occasional frightened and tearful squeak from Celandine. Jack rose and walked back toward the others, hauling Celandine once more by the nape of her neck. "I think we'll let this one head on home. Henry, haul her back and meet us at the new place," Jack said as he pushed Celandine toward the younger man. Henry sighed audibly, and hoisted Celandine over his shoulder, who began to argue loudly, "No! Tella! I won't..." Jack slapped her across the cheek, silencing her instantly. "Just remember what I said." Celandine began to weep and gingerly touched her cheek. She looked up through her tears as she bounced painfully upon Henry's shoulder and she gasped, "Tella!" before they disappeared beyond the shadows of the trees. Estella's voice caught in her throat and a tear slid down her cheek, but in an instant, rough fibers scratched over her, and darkness surrounded her as she was dumped upside down into a burlap bag. Her stomach flipped at the sudden movement and she frantically wiggled and twisted in protest. Mashed against the bottom of the bag, Estella cried out and fought against the course fabric and the bonds on her hands to get upright. She could feel movement as she swayed inside the itchy material and thumped repeatedly against what she could only imagine was someone's back. Her muffled protests seemed to be ignored for the most part, only answered with a firm smack that stung and left her quiet. Possibilities of the horrors to come began to race through her mind. Would they just throw her in the river to drown, would they beat her or kill her? What did they want? Revenge? Information? What did Celandine tell them, and if they wanted more information, why did they not take the both of them? Why did they seek her out, if not to be cruel? She managed to shift into a cradled side ways position, and though the fibers scratched as she was bounced along, she at least wasn't upside down. It didn't seem escape was a possibility at the moment; it was better to wait for the opportunity. After a few minutes she could make out the muffled voices of the men talking as they walked along. "I don't know, Jack, don't you think they'll come after her?" A deep voice asked. "No," another scoffed, "The rebellious ones that have caused us trouble might have, but they're long gone in hiding now. Only ones left are the timid kind. And believe you me, they'll all be shakin' in their boots and obeyin' from now on." "But they don't wear boots..." There was a smacking sound and then, "I know that you idiot, it's just a 'spression, means they are all afraid now." "But what if the other ones, the brave ones come back, what if they cause more trouble? I think we should..." "Don't you worry bout that, Mort, you weren't picked to do the thinkin'," someone said, followed by a snort of laughter. "They're Halflings! Just how much trouble can they really make?" A new voice piped up. "Oh they can cause trouble if they thought 'bout it much, but by takin' this one, those little stunted rats won't dare try nuthin' else, ya see? The boss told me to just pick one, so as they have something to fear. And this one owes me for the trouble she's caused. You mark my words, he's right; they'll all toe the line now. C'mon." The pace quickened and Estella reflected on their words as she bounced along painfully. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. They were sending a clear message. If you fought back you would be punished, and your family would vanish. To them, her brother was a criminal; she dared defy their plunder and now they both would pay. back to top Chapter 10: Departing Eastfarthing It seemed an age since Estella had been dumped into a bag with less consideration than dirty laundry. Now she felt very stuffy and hot, still thumping painfully against someone's back in a dull rhythm. It sounded like the large man, Mort, as he had the loudest of the voices that now spoke rarely. The regular pace of his trotting finally slowed to a walk and the bang of a door shutting made her wonder if perhaps they had gone indoors. Without warning Estella felt herself falling; she squeaked as she landed with a thud on something hard and flat. Coughing while she tried to catch her breath, she wiggled and pushed at the bag but nothing made a difference. It remained very dark and she began to feel choked and anxious. Light filtered through the fibers on her left and she struggled to get upright. Though she could hear laughter and muffled talking all around her, Estella felt far more concerned about being kept tied up much longer. The distinct thud of mugs being set down nearby and the crackling of a fire amongst the sounds of mumbled talk were shortly followed by a louder voice, "Here now, just a minute, you. Stop your squirmin'." As much as she wanted release from the stifling bag, the dim light of a small fire made her squint painfully as she was unceremoniously poured out. Hair fuzzed and prickled with bits of straw, she scuttled awkwardly backwards on her hands and feet from the towering forms of men and bumped up against the rough wood walls behind her. She glanced around the room anxiously, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the change in light. Quickly Estella realized she sat not on the floor, but on a table pressed against the wall in the back of a rectangular building. There seemed to be a flat roof above her with beams and poorly fitted planks. At the far end of the room a large door was shut against the cool of the night and the flat ceiling above seemed to stop mid way, revealing exposed beams of the strangely tall pointed roof above. A ladder, far to the right, leaned against a loft above her, and several roughly hewn beds were positioned around the room with various piles of laundry and boots scattered among the bedding and on the floor. The smell of smoke from the badly designed hearth hung heavy in the air and mixed with the pungent aroma of filthy clothes, dirty boots and rancid foods. Estella gulped back her disgust, but shivered in anxiety as the men suddenly came into focus. She shied away as a heavy-set man approached and stood before her, smirking. He wore his hair much like the men she had seen before, the wavy brown locks tied back, and he scratched at his short beard as he eyed her. "Well, now. What have we here, Jack? A new little hobbit wench for us to tease?" Jack approached and grinned. "Aye, Silus, this is the one what I was tellin' you about." The other man nodded. "So you found her, eh? Any sign of the rebels?" Jack crossed his arms and looked down smugly. "We have men tracking them, but I figure this lass may have some ideas for narrowing the search." Estella stared at them silently, then a horrible thought entered her mind. 'The note from Fatty! Is it still in my pocket?' Her face reflected the realization that she truly could betray her own brother and quickly Estella looked away from the men to mask the flush she felt creeping up her neck. Clenching her hands to keep from feeling for the notes she forced herself to further examine the room, rather than risk looking to her apron and revealing its contents. The damning evidence, if it had not fallen out in the chaos of her capture, was covered only by thin fabric above her knee. There were more men in the house than she first thought. Despite her fears and the overwhelming feeling of helplessness, she couldn't avoid noticing that whatever one of the men was attempting to cook over the fire was the most awful smelling concoction she'd ever encountered. No one else appeared to notice the stench; just going about their activities, taking swigs of ale, or sharpening blades. The two fellows who had spoken to her glared at Estella then eyed each other briefly. Smoothing her hair down and dusting off her blouse distractedly, she tried to remain calm as she braced herself for some kind of interrogation, or perhaps cruelty to be inflicted upon her. Silus broke the silence. "Do you know how to cook?" he asked, as he folded his arms across his ample belly. Estella stared at him, confused, until jarred into answering when he repeated the question more emphatically. She nodded numbly, managing to speak, her voice cracking and dry. "Of...of course." Silus lifted her by the back of her bodice and walked a few steps to the hearth, setting her down upon her feet. "We've not had a decent meal for a while...if you can fix up something edible...well, maybe we'll let you live the night, eh?" he said, a gleam in his beady eyes. The man sitting by the fire cooking clearly took offense and spoke up in protest, "'Ere now, wot's wrong with me stew?" "It tastes like boilt leather, that's wot," Silus said, shaking his head in disgust. He pointed to the kettle, ordering the man to throw it out and make room for the hobbit lass to get to work. Estella's eyes widened with anxiety and surprise; she felt like both laughing and crying at the same time. Anxiously she examined the crates of various foods stacked against the wall, and looked over the cooking pans available as the man rose and took his concoction with him. "Well then, I expect you won't take so long as Frank, but get going at any rate," Silus remarked with a nod. "You think she should be left with a knife, even if it is for cookin?" the lanky young man, Henry, piped up from behind them where he had been skulking. Silus glared at the youth and his lip rose in an odd wrinkle on one side as he sneered, "That'd be why you are going to be helpin' her, boy, bein' that you're so good at slicing things." Estella swallowed hard, eyeing the young man. It looked as if he once had flyaway blonde hair, but now it lay limp, darkened with oil and dirt. Perhaps the grime caused the small pimply marks along his neck. Rolling his eyes, Henry sighed angrily at being assigned to help cook. He glowered at Silus, but didn't say a word. Instead he obediently pulled a blade from a sheath at his side then sat down with a dejected grunt. He twisted the knife casually in his hands and looked at Estella, giving a shrug as if to ask what he should do. She lifted a sack of potatoes and set it before him, asking him nervously to peel the vegetables. Before long, he was slicing the skin off in long, thin, curling strips. While Henry appeared scrawny compared to the other men in the room, Estella had no doubts in his ability to handle dangerously sharp objects by the time he finished. Estella spoke as little as possible while she prepared the meal. Thankfully, the men seemed pleased with the results, not bothering her at all, as she sat by the fire with a half eaten bowl of stew resting in her lap. It was then, feeling hot and tired, that she finally noticed that her apron pocket crackled slightly, and she flinched at the sound. The thought came to her quickly that the evidence must be destroyed and the fire at her feet seemed the only option. This could be her one chance to rid herself of the notes before they searched her. So it was that Estella leaned toward the fire and dashed three notes into the flames. She sighed in relief as she watched the corners of the paper curl with a red glow, then begin to blacken. To her great surprise, a large hand deftly snatched the papers out of the flames, and she looked up in shock to see Jack swatting sparks from the marred notes. "What's this?" he asked, grinning wickedly. "NO!" Estella screamed in horror, jumping up and reaching for the letters, the half-eaten stew spilling to the floor. "They're nothing! Just paper. Give them back!" The room grew silent and all eyes turned to the hobbit lass as she struggled in a futile effort to reclaim the pages. Jack smirked and held them just above her reach. Silus appeared behind him, calmly taking the notes. He looked them over and glanced back to Jack and Estella, much like an exasperated parent wondering which child was causing the most trouble. Estella's face burned with anger and frustration. As if it weren't bad enough that she had got herself into this situation, now they would find Fatty and it would be all her fault as well! It was almost defied belief that things were taking such a dreadful turn. Her thoughts raced through her options. Clearly, she must get away to warn Fatty, despite the odds of escape being very small. Glaring at the man who chortled as he read, Estella clenched her teeth and made a mad dash to the door. She pushed past startled hands, flew past the cots, jumped a pair of boots and yanked the door wide, her ears ringing with the hollers and stomping of the men behind her. The night air stung bitterly and she coughed as she rushed forward into blackness. Estella took just four strides out onto the damp, cold dirt before powerful arms scooped her off the ground; captured once more, kicking and screaming in protest. It was Henry, the gangly youth, who seized her, and the lass found she had grossly underestimated his strength, for despite her thrashing, his lean arms held her fast. He turned toward the glow of the doorway, unhindered by her efforts. "Now just calm down," he hissed. "Silus wants you 'ere, safe with us. It's cold out tonight and there ain't nowhere to run off to, neither." Within a moment she found herself facing Silus, Jack, and the others, still hoisted two feet off the ground, helpless and defeated. Silus eyed her, and clutched the papers in his hand. He nodded at Henry in thanks and stabbed the air with his thumb. "Take her up there, she'll need some rest." It took a while for Estella to calm down after Henry hauled her up the ladder to the loft above the kitchen area. She knew she had bruises from the rough handling earlier in the evening, but now her arms were quite sore from being yanked and twisted. Henry indicated she should sleep in the corner closest to the angled roof where the stone chimney made up one side of the house. It was warmer there and the furthest point from the edge of the loft. It was also the furthest from the ladder-her only practical means of escape. For a good while Estella ignored Henry, who sat near the exit using his knife to carve a piece of wood. She propped herself against the wall, her feet tucked under her skirts and her arms folded in glowering bitterness. Never had she felt so cornered, so helpless; even when being attacked at home she had known Fatty was near...that her family and friends were close. She knew where she could run for help, who she could trust. This was a new level of powerlessness. There seemed to be no way out; no way to stop the tide of men, with their brute strength and crude ways from washing over the Shire, leaving it forever altered . They didn't belong here. All Estella wanted was to have things back as they were, before the men, before the troubles. Why did this have to happen? Questions turned over and over in her mind until she shook her head. There were no answers. After a long time of silent and angry reflection, Estella finally began to watch Henry's whittling. He had sliced off all the bark, and a pile of shavings dusted his lap and the floor. Now his hands fashioned the white wood into what appeared to be some kind of creature. Soft noises came from below, talking or shuffling around. The fire must have burned low, for the room was darkening. Estella felt her eyes growing heavy and every part of her body seemed weighted with exhaustion. Reluctantly she settled down onto the rough woolen blanket, covering herself with the thick cloak they had allowed her to keep. As she lay, her anger turned to despair and slow hot tears dripped sideways down her cheeks while sleep crept over her. The comfort of rest seemed to last for only a few minutes, when the scraping sound of the door downstairs jolted her awake. A blast of chill air swept into the room and someone grumbled about letting the cold in. Estella sat up, rubbed her eyes and looked to see that Henry had made quite a bit of progress on his carving-it appeared to be a dog of some kind. He glanced up at her, then went back to his carving. An unfamiliar voice spoke below, and Estella timidly crept to the edge of the loft to peer over. Henry's eyes followed her movements briefly, unconcerned with her behavior. It was as if there was an unspoken understanding that she would not jump. The door had been shut against the winter night, but now an unfamiliar, short figure stood speaking almost inaudibly to Silus. A hobbit, unkempt and poorly dressed, Estella thought perhaps he was a gaffer out wandering looking for a tavern, but he seemed to be speaking with the men as if they were old friends. Still, her hopes rose on seeing his small stature and she watched curiously, waiting for an opportunity to try to gain his help. Perhaps he would take her off their hands? Even the rudest and most rustic of hobbits would be exceedingly better company than the men she found herself among. Surely he wouldn't leave her here, not when it was so clear she was a prisoner. She opened her mouth to call out, then she saw Silus hand him some small scorched notes: her letters. Stunned to silence, Estella listened to the hobbit speak after he had eyed the papers, his voice gravelly thick. "Aye, sir, this came from Scary. The other is from Budge Ford or round abouts. Those be up the East Road, West to Whitfurrows North. If they be hidin' out up there...there be only two choices. Family has um hid; elsewise they could be up in them Brockenborings." Silus cast an eye up toward Estella as if he knew all along she was listening. The gaffer at his side followed his gaze and asked, "So which is it, lass? Family or Brockenborings?" Estella could not conceal the horror on her face, but pushed away from the loft edge and pressed herself far back to the wall. She twisted her apron anxiously, trying to remember how to breathe. It felt as if someone had punched her in the belly. Henry looked at her, as tears began to spill down her face. He glanced back down to the room and shook his head. The hobbit below spoke indifferently. "If I had to guess, check the caves." The sound of coins jingled; no doubt added to the hobbit's pocket, then the door opened and shut once more. All sound seemed to fade. Estella could hear only her own sobs as she envisioned Fatty being killed by hordes of men, his body perhaps tossed down one of the deep chasms of the caves. Something touched her shoulder and Estella looked up startled. Silus stood in the loft offering her a mug to drink. Her eyes felt red and puffy, and she wanted to refuse, but so much weeping had indeed made her throat dry. After a small pause, she took the mug and sniffed it. "It's just ale. If I wanted to kill ya I'd have already done it. You'd deserve it just for all the blubbering you're doin' up here," Silus said with a grim glare. Estella sniffed and thought for a moment. It did make sense after all; she could have been killed by any of the men many times over. She took a deep draught and began to cough furiously. Her eyes welled up with tears and she fanned herself as the burning drink made its way down. "That wasn't just ale," Estella sputtered. "Aye, it has a little more kick, but drink up, you don't want to waste it." Silus helped lift the mug up to her lips once more. "No...No, it's too strong," she protested, her voice echoing in the hollow of the cup. However, she seemed to have lost much of her ability to refuse. Her mouth filled with liquid and she stared at Silus' determined face. Suddenly the knife Henry held seemed to glint menacingly. Again, she swallowed. This time the drink tasted less fiery, but its effects seemed to double and her eyes watered once more. She blinked. Silus almost disappeared from view, yet he still held the cup beside her and she could feel his touch. He placed the mug in her hand again, pressing her fingers around the handle, then he patted her hand gently. "Relax. No one wants to hurt you. This will just help you rest. I made it meself, a dash of this and that for flavor." His smile wavered strangely, and Estella blinked a few more times, rubbing her eyes as the room swam around her. Whatever that cup contained was much, much stronger than she had ever consumed. Staring up at Silus when he moved away slightly, Estella wondered if she had misjudged him. Was he as cruel and unkind as she thought earlier? At the moment he chatted amiably with Henry about the young man's carving. A long time she sat, allowing her thoughts to wander aimlessly while she slowly sipped at the drink that warmed her belly and flushed her face. Perhaps she should really find out how he made this, or what exactly he had added to it. A smile crept over her face, and she licked her lips, sampling the flavor of the strange and powerful liquid; trying to isolate an ingredient. Squinting, she pondered whether it tasted fruity or just sweet. She polished off the last drop and grinned up at Silus as she handed him the cup. "Don't supposh you have any more of thish?" Silus smiled back and patted her on the head like a small child. "I think this will keep you. Much more and you wouldn't be able to hold this mug, much less the liquor." Henry snorted softly behind him, and Estella laughed, though not really sure why. She ran the back of her hand under her nose; it seemed to be running and it tickled. Silus handed her a handkerchief and she dabbed at her nose with it happily. Looking around for the blanket that had seemed so soft a while ago, she crawled over to it to lie down. There was a small nagging feeling that something really upsetting had just happened, but whatever it might be she could not recall. "Uh, Miss Bolger. Before you settle down this evening, perhaps you can answer a question or two for me?" Silus asked, with an oddly proper dialect. "I am very much concerned about the welfare of your brother...Fatty, isn't it?" "Mmm, Fatty. He'sh a good brother. Scared those...those men off," Estella said dreamily. "Yes, rude of those men to hurt you like that," Silus agreed matter-of-factly. Estella nodded and began searching for her cloak. Silus handed it to her. "You must be worried about him...but perhaps you have heard where he is staying...now that he has left without so much as a forwarding address?" "Hooh yessh! I know. He's shafe and shound," Estella said, pausing and wondering why her sentences sounded strange. "And Marigold ish getting married, did I tell you that?" She grinned widely. "I'm to make her dressh." Silus' smile faded and his lips turned to a grim line. "No, you didn't, but tell me, do you know where Fatty is staying now?" Estella blinked, wondering why he would want to know, and was surprised when he grabbed her arms and asked her again, rather roughly, if she knew where Fatty hid. Her head buzzed and she felt very sleepy, but she sighed and nodded at the man. It seemed strange that he had asked the same question at least three times and was so quick to ask again. To Estella's fuzzy brain, he gave her very little time to respond. "Hesh...wherrzzee? The caveshh, up by Szcharry you know? Brooockk... brockkk...mmm brorrnings. Szcharry." Estella stumbled over the words, ending in a rather unpleasant tasting burp. Her tongue felt numb and her mind foggy. Everything wobbled in front of her instead of staying put. She rubbed her eyes again and lay upon the blanket, tugging her cloak over herself and allowing her eyes to close, her thoughts to fade into the blackness of sleep. Silus smiled as he looked down upon the hobbit lass, now passed out on the floor of the loft unaware of the world. "I don't think you'll have to worry about her sneaking out tonight," Silus remarked quietly to Henry. Henry nodded then watched Silus make his way down the ladder once more. The poor lass hadn't stood a chance with that brew. Silus knew how to sauce up a drink to his purposes. The last time Henry had crossed him, Silus made a pretense of apologizing for an enraged use of the lash, and bought him a round of drinks. All Henry could remember was that he awoke the next morning feeling seriously ill and lying in the mud. Henry sighed. Morning would come soon enough, even for the sober, and more than likely he'd have early duties. Setting aside his half finished carving and dusting himself off, he rolled out his own bedding and prepared for rest. Silus stepped off the ladder below and came to sit at the table, pulling a crinkled parchment from his pocket then smoothing it out on the surface. Jack set down his mug of ale and looked at him inquiringly. "So?" "From what I could gather, the old halfling was right. She says he's up in the caves, must be near here...Scary," Silus said, pointing at a spot on the crinkled map. "I figure we can send Frank, no...best be Daren, the boys up that way like him better." "I'll go. Them boys need someone with a reason, like me, to get 'um roused," Jack offered eagerly. "No, Jack. I've another chore for you come morning," Silus replied, rolling up the map. *** Before becoming aware of anything in the conscious world, Estella groaned in agony. With her eyes shut against the soft light of dawn, the only thing clear was that her entire body ached. The pain seemed to be spread all over; her arms and legs, head and back. The very beating of her heart was a purveyor of pain, every pulse sending extra pressure to a powerful headache. 'Maybe I have a fever?' She groaned and rubbed her head. Even the thoughts glancing around in her mind felt painful. Peeking through her fingers to filter the rays of light that were not hindered by the poorly constructed walls, she tried to make sense of the strange looking angles and shapes that slowly came into focus. The