Sophinisba Solis (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sophinisba) wrote2005-06-19 04:35 pm
sophinisba) wrote2005-06-19 04:35 pm
Entry tags:
New Frodo in jail fic for Claudia
Here is the first chapter of a new gen fic, which I expect will end up having five or six of them. Many thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lilybaggins for the beta. Although this is being written in response to claudia603's request for ficlets about Frodo in jail, it will probably be less Aragorn-focused than she would prefer. It is also longer than a ficlet, but then again the pair of drabbles I did for her was shorter, so maybe it'll even out. Or something.
Anyway,
Title: A Brief Adventure, chapter 1 of 6 or so.
Author: Sophinisba Solis
Rating: G for this chapter, PG for series.
Summary: Frodo and Merry attempt an adventure to celebrate Merry's coming of age. They find much has changed since news last traveled from Bree. Frodo (surprise!) gets in some trouble.
Disclaimer: Of course, of course I don't own these characters or their setting, and I make no money by writing about them.
Warnings: AU and fairly silly. Some violence in later chapters.
Chapter 1
On the lonely, unpaved road leading to the north gate of the village of Bree, two hobbits trudged through the mud. There was cloud cover and drizzle, and a chill in the air, and the sun had set as they walked from The Prancing Pony to this even less reputable part of town. Frodo Baggins struggled to keep his step and his tone light, while his cousin Merry Brandybuck stomped silently and dejectedly along their way.
"Come now, Merry," Frodo chided, "so not everything has gone according to plan. Adventures tend to be that way. You needn’t curse the wide world just because there wasn’t room at the inn your first night out."
"There was room," Merry answered sourly, still stomping and looking straight ahead.
"Well, yes, I suppose…"
"Just not room for us," Merry finished. He walked on without speaking for a few more moments and then turned to Frodo. "No room for hobbits at The Prancing Pony. No room for hobbits in the whole village of Bree, seemingly, and nowhere you can show your face without the big men swearing and sneering and telling you to mind your place. This is not my idea of an adventure, Frodo, and if this is what the wide world has to offer I’d just as soon stay home in the Shire." He paused for a moment and continued walking. "I wish I had stayed home," he added.
This would not do at all. Frodo was no more pleased with the sequence of events since their arrival in Bree than Merry was. They’d entered the inn where they’d intended to stay only to have a nervous Butterbur tell them that, although there were a few rooms that had been used by hobbits in the past, new regulations had all hobbit visitors staying in a special hostel on the north side of town. Frodo was confused and angered by the existence of such a rule. He intended to find out the reason for the change, but he wanted them to reach their lodging before night fell completely. Once they were settled in, they might investigate a bit, or perhaps in the morning. They would almost certainly be leaving the village tomorrow, since they were clearly not wanted here.
But if Frodo allowed Merry to become too discouraged on this, the first trip the two of them had made alone outside the Shire, he wondered how many other journeys they would be able to enjoy together. They had planned this trip to celebrate Merry’s thirty-third birthday and coming of age the previous week. It was to be the first of many adventures for the two of them, and Frodo resolved not to let the unfair and unfriendly behavior of the Bree-folk destroy his plans.
"Meriadoc Brandybuck," Frodo addressed his cousin sternly, "on this short adventure of ours, have we been set upon by hobbit-eating trolls?"
"Frodo, just because there aren’t any trolls doesn’t mean--"
"Answer the question, Merry."
"We haven't," Merry acknowledged.
"And have we been trapped in the webs of giant spiders?"
"Not yet."
Frodo was pleased to see something like a smirk on the younger hobbit’s face. If Merry could argue like this, he was probably not feeling completely miserable.
"Our goal," Frodo continued seriously, "is to find a place to rest for the night. I believe that shabby looking building with the tin roof must be our assigned lodging." Said building had just come into view and looked very shabby indeed. Catching a better glimpse of it, Frodo faltered for a moment in his confident speech, but then resumed, mirroring Merry’s faint smile, "Does it appear to be guarded by a fire-breathing dragon?"
"There is no dragon there, Frodo, but there is no treasure either. Nor have we seen any elves or eagles or anything else I'd care to recount to a crowd at The Green Dragon, or even to a few friends at Brandy Hall. If we were set upon by trolls but managed to outwit them, I should be quite satisfied. I didn’t mean for the road to be easy all the way, you know. But I did hope the obstacles we met would at least be… interesting. But we've encountered nothing at all to make this journey worth the time and the effort and the mud."
So saying, Merry quickened his pace and walked ahead, as if to signal that there was no point in Frodo continuing in his attempt to cheer him up. Not so easily dissuaded, Frodo caught up with him quickly and wrapped an arm around his cousin’s shoulder. "Think of it this way," he tried a different tack. "Bree seems to have become enemy territory for hobbits in recent months. Consider that you and I are scouts -- or spies, if you like. Tonight or tomorrow we'll find out some explanation for these ridiculous new regulations, and when we get home our compatriots will be better off for having the information we’ll bring them."
"Not that any of them would venture out this way unless their lives depended on it." Merry was still muttering and unhappy, but Frodo was glad there was a different attitude behind these words.
"That's right," Frodo answered, squeezing Merry’s shoulder with affection. "They're not like us."
They grew quiet as they approached the hostel. The small building was made of wood, with a single sheet of metal making a slanted roof that Frodo only hoped would keep out the weather. He guessed that the structure had been erected only recently and without much time or care. Perhaps a dozen other hobbits stood in a line outside, waiting patiently to be attended to by the big man at the door. Most of them were adult male hobbits, but there was also what looked like a family of mother, father, and two small children. Merry and Frodo fell into line behind them, and Frodo smiled warmly at the boy and girl, who shivered and looked frightened. The little girl had mud on the front of her clothes, and Frodo supposed she had slipped in their walk, as Frodo himself had almost done a few times.
"I expect you're looking forward to getting inside even more than my cousin and I," he said to the parents. Merry looked distant and watched the door and the front of the line.
The father smiled back at him. "It's not the fanciest inn I've known," he said, "but four walls and a roof will do us all some good. Posy here" -- he indicated the little girl -- "needs a change of clothes right quick, and we'll all be happy to settle in, get dry, and get some food in us."
"And I'll be happy to get some ale in me," said Merry, proving he was at least listening, if not bothering to look at Frodo or the family.
The talk reminded Frodo that they hadn't eaten since a lunch on the road, and the hunger he'd been trying to ignore was suddenly a major concern. "We should be able to purchase some ale, and a meal, in the common room, I expect," he said, hearing the implausibility of it as soon as he spoke aloud.
"No common room in there!" exclaimed the father with a chuckle. "Or I should say, nothing but a common room, forty beds in one great hall and no privacy to be had. I wouldn't mind so much for myself, but it's difficult, traveling with a family, you know."
Frodo was dismayed by this information, but he did his best not to show it. He watched approvingly as the mother laid comforting hands on the children's shoulders, and thought that the others might do a better job of reassuring the young ones.
"Anyway," her husband continued, "no food to be purchased on the inside. And certainly no ale. We've got the food we brought with us, and a bit of water in these skins to be had once we get inside."
Merry started look through his pack while Frodo reviewed the remaining contents in his mind. Nothing left but a few apples, and some rolls that had gone stale since they'd set out from Brandy Hall that morning.
"All right then," Frodo said calmly. "I saw a shop not far back with some meat pies in the window. I'll just go and pick up a little something for us, and you hold our place in line."
Merry was silent.
"Good," said Frodo, and he turned his back on the other hobbits. It was something of a relief to walk away and put aside the pretense that everything was fine and everyone happy. He was just as frustrated as Merry, he was sure, but he saw no point in making everyone uncomfortable by expressing his anger. Besides, there was something to be said for keeping up a brave front in the presence of the children.
He reached the building where he'd seen baked goods on display on their walk to the hostel. It looked to be a modest hobbit dwelling with a small kitchen and bakery built into the front. But the wooden counter that had been opened out at the window was now shuttered up, and the lamp was extinguished. Frodo stood still for a moment, uncertain of what to do. He hadn't seen any other businesses selling food since they'd left the center of the village, and it was a long walk back in the increasing darkness. Frodo could faintly hear voices from inside. He knocked at the door.
The voices quieted and there was no answer at first, and Frodo hadn't really expected there to be. But he couldn't think of anything else to do. He could still smell bread and savories from inside, and he couldn't stand the thought of going back empty-handed to Merry and the ugly hostel. Frodo allowed some of his frustration to come out as he banged harder at the wooden door and was shocked when it suddenly opened inward and a pair of hands grabbed him around his upper arms. He was lifted fully off the ground and pulled quickly all the way inside, and the door was shut again.
Frodo had to work to keep his balance before looking around. To his surprise, it was not another hobbit but a tall man that stood before him, looking somewhat angry but also relieved. Still looking at Frodo, the man spoke to someone else that Frodo could not see. "It's all right, Shem, only another hobbit. Lost, from the look of him."
"I am not lost," Frodo said with irritation, as a somewhat older hobbit walked in from a back room.
"What do you mean banging on my door after curfew then?" Shem demanded. "Why go making a racket and attracting attention? Some kind of spy for the Big Folk, are you? Do you mean to bring the lawmen down on us?"
"I mean nothing of the kind, and I am no spy," said Frodo in surprise, remembering how he had teased Merry with just such an idea not half an hour before. Who would have thought the Bree-folk actually thought in terms of spying on each other? "My cousin and I are staying at the hostel for the night. I came here to buy one of the pies I saw in the window as we walked past."
The other hobbit shook his head. "You shouldn't have left your cousin," he said. "It's past the hour when I can do business now, and past the hour when hobbits like you and me can be out on the streets without permission, don't you see?"
"I don't see," said Frodo. "I had not been told. And anyway this makes no sense. Why should I need permission to walk the streets at night?"
There was a grim chuckle from the shopkeeper, who already seemed to have overcome his anger at Frodo and returned to his natural hobbity friendliness. He looked about to speak, but the man cut him off. "We have no time to explain now. First we must take some decisions. What is your name, sir?"
"Frodo Baggins." He stopped himself before adding "at your service," his usual polite greeting, because this evening's experiences made it seem important not to be in the service of any man. And this one in particular was clearly quite strong and dangerous, although he also treated his host with more respect than Frodo had seen a big man show toward a hobbit on this visit.
"Frodo Baggins of the Shire, and of the East Farthing, I would guess by your talk. But it would seem less news travels from Bree to your country than it once did. You are more lost than you think. But do you mean to say that you came to this house only to purchase food, and not because anyone sent you, or because you had heard any talk about Shem Backman?"
"I had not heard his name before you spoke it," Frodo began, and was interrupted by his host.
"I know what you're trying to tell me, Strider," said Shem. "The poor, lost, innocent Shire-hobbit, he doesn't know any better than to come knocking at my door, and what harm would it do me to take in one more, huh? But it gets more dangerous with every one, and I know you know that."
"He is more likely to arouse suspicion by venturing out again now than if he hides here for the night."
"Excuse me," said Frodo, not liking to be talked about as if he were not present, "but I have not asked for a hiding place, only for a pie… or perhaps two. As I stated, I am staying at the hobbit hostel just down the road."
"So you said, Mr. Baggins," said Shem, "and perhaps you remember me answering that it's past the hour when you can be out on the streets. Strider here," he indicated the tall man, "he's a ranger, them Big Folk as see it's their job to protect everyone, big and little. He ain't one of the Bree lawmen, but he works with them sometimes, and he and I both know they've gotten more and more strict about Little Folk out making trouble past curfew."
"But I wouldn't be making--"
"Of course you'd not be making trouble, sir," Shem cut in hastily, "only walking back to the hostel to join your cousin, everyone here understands that, but the lawmen might not. Anyway, they don't listen too carefully to anyone who tries to explain why they were breaking the rules. Now look, it's probably not the smartest thing I could do, but I'm offering you a place to stay for the night. You can go back and explain things to your cousin in the morning."
They weren't really listening to him, so Frodo decided to stop trying to explain himself. "Are the meat pies still for sale?" he asked quietly.
Shem shook his head and stepped away to the counter where Frodo thought a cloth was covering what was left of the day's goods.
Strider spoke instead. "You Shire-hobbits are reckless," he said, "and too proud. Mr. Backman knows this neighborhood and you do not. He has offered you shelter and advice, and you scorn him." Frodo opened his mouth to speak, but the ranger held up a hand. "You scorn him, and me. We will not stop you from walking out the door, but if you go you must understand that you are on your own. We will not take on any more risks for you."
"More risks than selling food to a paying customer?" Frodo asked with annoyance. Strider did not bother to answer but turned away.
Shem had come back with a small package wrapped in paper and tied with a string. The smell took Frodo's mind away from the conflict and made him want only to be back at the hostel and sharing the treasure with Merry. "There's two meat pies as you asked," said Shem, "and an apple tart thrown in. Eight coppers, if you please." His tone was distant, clearly no longer trying to convince Frodo of anything.
Frodo paid and thanked the other hobbit and stowed the purchase in his pack, resisting the urge to have a taste now before going back to share it with Merry. As he made for the door, Strider caught him by the arm. "If you go," he said, "you may not come back. You would put others in danger by returning to this place or by naming him or me. Do you understand?"
Frodo wanted to giggle at the seriousness of this warning, but he contained himself. He and Merry would laugh over it together when he told the story. Frodo only nodded and turned again to the door. Shem opened it for him, gesturing for silence and looking around cautiously before stepping aside to let Frodo out.
Frodo thought he would laugh out loud once he stood by himself on the street, but it had grown colder, darker, and wetter. He considered the road back to the hostel, crowded with deeper shadows than before and with new unspecified dangers, and part of him wished he had stayed inside with the two odd strangers.
Attempting to push such thoughts out of his mind, Frodo pulled his cloak closer about him and set off to rejoin Merry at the other shelter.
next part | series tag | fic index
lilybaggins for the beta. Although this is being written in response to claudia603's request for ficlets about Frodo in jail, it will probably be less Aragorn-focused than she would prefer. It is also longer than a ficlet, but then again the pair of drabbles I did for her was shorter, so maybe it'll even out. Or something.Anyway,
Title: A Brief Adventure, chapter 1 of 6 or so.
Author: Sophinisba Solis
Rating: G for this chapter, PG for series.
Summary: Frodo and Merry attempt an adventure to celebrate Merry's coming of age. They find much has changed since news last traveled from Bree. Frodo (surprise!) gets in some trouble.
Disclaimer: Of course, of course I don't own these characters or their setting, and I make no money by writing about them.
Warnings: AU and fairly silly. Some violence in later chapters.
Chapter 1
On the lonely, unpaved road leading to the north gate of the village of Bree, two hobbits trudged through the mud. There was cloud cover and drizzle, and a chill in the air, and the sun had set as they walked from The Prancing Pony to this even less reputable part of town. Frodo Baggins struggled to keep his step and his tone light, while his cousin Merry Brandybuck stomped silently and dejectedly along their way.
"Come now, Merry," Frodo chided, "so not everything has gone according to plan. Adventures tend to be that way. You needn’t curse the wide world just because there wasn’t room at the inn your first night out."
"There was room," Merry answered sourly, still stomping and looking straight ahead.
"Well, yes, I suppose…"
"Just not room for us," Merry finished. He walked on without speaking for a few more moments and then turned to Frodo. "No room for hobbits at The Prancing Pony. No room for hobbits in the whole village of Bree, seemingly, and nowhere you can show your face without the big men swearing and sneering and telling you to mind your place. This is not my idea of an adventure, Frodo, and if this is what the wide world has to offer I’d just as soon stay home in the Shire." He paused for a moment and continued walking. "I wish I had stayed home," he added.
This would not do at all. Frodo was no more pleased with the sequence of events since their arrival in Bree than Merry was. They’d entered the inn where they’d intended to stay only to have a nervous Butterbur tell them that, although there were a few rooms that had been used by hobbits in the past, new regulations had all hobbit visitors staying in a special hostel on the north side of town. Frodo was confused and angered by the existence of such a rule. He intended to find out the reason for the change, but he wanted them to reach their lodging before night fell completely. Once they were settled in, they might investigate a bit, or perhaps in the morning. They would almost certainly be leaving the village tomorrow, since they were clearly not wanted here.
But if Frodo allowed Merry to become too discouraged on this, the first trip the two of them had made alone outside the Shire, he wondered how many other journeys they would be able to enjoy together. They had planned this trip to celebrate Merry’s thirty-third birthday and coming of age the previous week. It was to be the first of many adventures for the two of them, and Frodo resolved not to let the unfair and unfriendly behavior of the Bree-folk destroy his plans.
"Meriadoc Brandybuck," Frodo addressed his cousin sternly, "on this short adventure of ours, have we been set upon by hobbit-eating trolls?"
"Frodo, just because there aren’t any trolls doesn’t mean--"
"Answer the question, Merry."
"We haven't," Merry acknowledged.
"And have we been trapped in the webs of giant spiders?"
"Not yet."
Frodo was pleased to see something like a smirk on the younger hobbit’s face. If Merry could argue like this, he was probably not feeling completely miserable.
"Our goal," Frodo continued seriously, "is to find a place to rest for the night. I believe that shabby looking building with the tin roof must be our assigned lodging." Said building had just come into view and looked very shabby indeed. Catching a better glimpse of it, Frodo faltered for a moment in his confident speech, but then resumed, mirroring Merry’s faint smile, "Does it appear to be guarded by a fire-breathing dragon?"
"There is no dragon there, Frodo, but there is no treasure either. Nor have we seen any elves or eagles or anything else I'd care to recount to a crowd at The Green Dragon, or even to a few friends at Brandy Hall. If we were set upon by trolls but managed to outwit them, I should be quite satisfied. I didn’t mean for the road to be easy all the way, you know. But I did hope the obstacles we met would at least be… interesting. But we've encountered nothing at all to make this journey worth the time and the effort and the mud."
So saying, Merry quickened his pace and walked ahead, as if to signal that there was no point in Frodo continuing in his attempt to cheer him up. Not so easily dissuaded, Frodo caught up with him quickly and wrapped an arm around his cousin’s shoulder. "Think of it this way," he tried a different tack. "Bree seems to have become enemy territory for hobbits in recent months. Consider that you and I are scouts -- or spies, if you like. Tonight or tomorrow we'll find out some explanation for these ridiculous new regulations, and when we get home our compatriots will be better off for having the information we’ll bring them."
"Not that any of them would venture out this way unless their lives depended on it." Merry was still muttering and unhappy, but Frodo was glad there was a different attitude behind these words.
"That's right," Frodo answered, squeezing Merry’s shoulder with affection. "They're not like us."
They grew quiet as they approached the hostel. The small building was made of wood, with a single sheet of metal making a slanted roof that Frodo only hoped would keep out the weather. He guessed that the structure had been erected only recently and without much time or care. Perhaps a dozen other hobbits stood in a line outside, waiting patiently to be attended to by the big man at the door. Most of them were adult male hobbits, but there was also what looked like a family of mother, father, and two small children. Merry and Frodo fell into line behind them, and Frodo smiled warmly at the boy and girl, who shivered and looked frightened. The little girl had mud on the front of her clothes, and Frodo supposed she had slipped in their walk, as Frodo himself had almost done a few times.
"I expect you're looking forward to getting inside even more than my cousin and I," he said to the parents. Merry looked distant and watched the door and the front of the line.
The father smiled back at him. "It's not the fanciest inn I've known," he said, "but four walls and a roof will do us all some good. Posy here" -- he indicated the little girl -- "needs a change of clothes right quick, and we'll all be happy to settle in, get dry, and get some food in us."
"And I'll be happy to get some ale in me," said Merry, proving he was at least listening, if not bothering to look at Frodo or the family.
The talk reminded Frodo that they hadn't eaten since a lunch on the road, and the hunger he'd been trying to ignore was suddenly a major concern. "We should be able to purchase some ale, and a meal, in the common room, I expect," he said, hearing the implausibility of it as soon as he spoke aloud.
"No common room in there!" exclaimed the father with a chuckle. "Or I should say, nothing but a common room, forty beds in one great hall and no privacy to be had. I wouldn't mind so much for myself, but it's difficult, traveling with a family, you know."
Frodo was dismayed by this information, but he did his best not to show it. He watched approvingly as the mother laid comforting hands on the children's shoulders, and thought that the others might do a better job of reassuring the young ones.
"Anyway," her husband continued, "no food to be purchased on the inside. And certainly no ale. We've got the food we brought with us, and a bit of water in these skins to be had once we get inside."
Merry started look through his pack while Frodo reviewed the remaining contents in his mind. Nothing left but a few apples, and some rolls that had gone stale since they'd set out from Brandy Hall that morning.
"All right then," Frodo said calmly. "I saw a shop not far back with some meat pies in the window. I'll just go and pick up a little something for us, and you hold our place in line."
Merry was silent.
"Good," said Frodo, and he turned his back on the other hobbits. It was something of a relief to walk away and put aside the pretense that everything was fine and everyone happy. He was just as frustrated as Merry, he was sure, but he saw no point in making everyone uncomfortable by expressing his anger. Besides, there was something to be said for keeping up a brave front in the presence of the children.
He reached the building where he'd seen baked goods on display on their walk to the hostel. It looked to be a modest hobbit dwelling with a small kitchen and bakery built into the front. But the wooden counter that had been opened out at the window was now shuttered up, and the lamp was extinguished. Frodo stood still for a moment, uncertain of what to do. He hadn't seen any other businesses selling food since they'd left the center of the village, and it was a long walk back in the increasing darkness. Frodo could faintly hear voices from inside. He knocked at the door.
The voices quieted and there was no answer at first, and Frodo hadn't really expected there to be. But he couldn't think of anything else to do. He could still smell bread and savories from inside, and he couldn't stand the thought of going back empty-handed to Merry and the ugly hostel. Frodo allowed some of his frustration to come out as he banged harder at the wooden door and was shocked when it suddenly opened inward and a pair of hands grabbed him around his upper arms. He was lifted fully off the ground and pulled quickly all the way inside, and the door was shut again.
Frodo had to work to keep his balance before looking around. To his surprise, it was not another hobbit but a tall man that stood before him, looking somewhat angry but also relieved. Still looking at Frodo, the man spoke to someone else that Frodo could not see. "It's all right, Shem, only another hobbit. Lost, from the look of him."
"I am not lost," Frodo said with irritation, as a somewhat older hobbit walked in from a back room.
"What do you mean banging on my door after curfew then?" Shem demanded. "Why go making a racket and attracting attention? Some kind of spy for the Big Folk, are you? Do you mean to bring the lawmen down on us?"
"I mean nothing of the kind, and I am no spy," said Frodo in surprise, remembering how he had teased Merry with just such an idea not half an hour before. Who would have thought the Bree-folk actually thought in terms of spying on each other? "My cousin and I are staying at the hostel for the night. I came here to buy one of the pies I saw in the window as we walked past."
The other hobbit shook his head. "You shouldn't have left your cousin," he said. "It's past the hour when I can do business now, and past the hour when hobbits like you and me can be out on the streets without permission, don't you see?"
"I don't see," said Frodo. "I had not been told. And anyway this makes no sense. Why should I need permission to walk the streets at night?"
There was a grim chuckle from the shopkeeper, who already seemed to have overcome his anger at Frodo and returned to his natural hobbity friendliness. He looked about to speak, but the man cut him off. "We have no time to explain now. First we must take some decisions. What is your name, sir?"
"Frodo Baggins." He stopped himself before adding "at your service," his usual polite greeting, because this evening's experiences made it seem important not to be in the service of any man. And this one in particular was clearly quite strong and dangerous, although he also treated his host with more respect than Frodo had seen a big man show toward a hobbit on this visit.
"Frodo Baggins of the Shire, and of the East Farthing, I would guess by your talk. But it would seem less news travels from Bree to your country than it once did. You are more lost than you think. But do you mean to say that you came to this house only to purchase food, and not because anyone sent you, or because you had heard any talk about Shem Backman?"
"I had not heard his name before you spoke it," Frodo began, and was interrupted by his host.
"I know what you're trying to tell me, Strider," said Shem. "The poor, lost, innocent Shire-hobbit, he doesn't know any better than to come knocking at my door, and what harm would it do me to take in one more, huh? But it gets more dangerous with every one, and I know you know that."
"He is more likely to arouse suspicion by venturing out again now than if he hides here for the night."
"Excuse me," said Frodo, not liking to be talked about as if he were not present, "but I have not asked for a hiding place, only for a pie… or perhaps two. As I stated, I am staying at the hobbit hostel just down the road."
"So you said, Mr. Baggins," said Shem, "and perhaps you remember me answering that it's past the hour when you can be out on the streets. Strider here," he indicated the tall man, "he's a ranger, them Big Folk as see it's their job to protect everyone, big and little. He ain't one of the Bree lawmen, but he works with them sometimes, and he and I both know they've gotten more and more strict about Little Folk out making trouble past curfew."
"But I wouldn't be making--"
"Of course you'd not be making trouble, sir," Shem cut in hastily, "only walking back to the hostel to join your cousin, everyone here understands that, but the lawmen might not. Anyway, they don't listen too carefully to anyone who tries to explain why they were breaking the rules. Now look, it's probably not the smartest thing I could do, but I'm offering you a place to stay for the night. You can go back and explain things to your cousin in the morning."
They weren't really listening to him, so Frodo decided to stop trying to explain himself. "Are the meat pies still for sale?" he asked quietly.
Shem shook his head and stepped away to the counter where Frodo thought a cloth was covering what was left of the day's goods.
Strider spoke instead. "You Shire-hobbits are reckless," he said, "and too proud. Mr. Backman knows this neighborhood and you do not. He has offered you shelter and advice, and you scorn him." Frodo opened his mouth to speak, but the ranger held up a hand. "You scorn him, and me. We will not stop you from walking out the door, but if you go you must understand that you are on your own. We will not take on any more risks for you."
"More risks than selling food to a paying customer?" Frodo asked with annoyance. Strider did not bother to answer but turned away.
Shem had come back with a small package wrapped in paper and tied with a string. The smell took Frodo's mind away from the conflict and made him want only to be back at the hostel and sharing the treasure with Merry. "There's two meat pies as you asked," said Shem, "and an apple tart thrown in. Eight coppers, if you please." His tone was distant, clearly no longer trying to convince Frodo of anything.
Frodo paid and thanked the other hobbit and stowed the purchase in his pack, resisting the urge to have a taste now before going back to share it with Merry. As he made for the door, Strider caught him by the arm. "If you go," he said, "you may not come back. You would put others in danger by returning to this place or by naming him or me. Do you understand?"
Frodo wanted to giggle at the seriousness of this warning, but he contained himself. He and Merry would laugh over it together when he told the story. Frodo only nodded and turned again to the door. Shem opened it for him, gesturing for silence and looking around cautiously before stepping aside to let Frodo out.
Frodo thought he would laugh out loud once he stood by himself on the street, but it had grown colder, darker, and wetter. He considered the road back to the hostel, crowded with deeper shadows than before and with new unspecified dangers, and part of him wished he had stayed inside with the two odd strangers.
Attempting to push such thoughts out of his mind, Frodo pulled his cloak closer about him and set off to rejoin Merry at the other shelter.
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Oh, and have you been following
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Anybody else feel like rereading? We're having a lovely time over at
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Claudia will be thrilled at this. I hope you continue soon. You've got the dread factor hiked way up.
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I'm getting caught up with Wings of Shadow tonight and will comment. *hugs*
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EEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
!!!!okay, more coherent feedback later when I'm not still panting from excitement and tthere's not a restless puppy on my lap...
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! This is a marvelous start.
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Have fun playing with Sammie. Those pics were adorable!
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Followed
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Frood doesn't know what he's walking into!
Can't wait for more!
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*friends you back*
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And by the way, I know you had some frustration with Spanish homework last semester. I don't know if you're going to be taking it again, but I'm a Spanish grad student, so if you ever need help with something, let me know.
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I might have been talking about my son's lack of effort in Spanish, but I haven't taken it. I was planning on it this semester but changed my mind. Were you thinking of
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hostilehostel in fine shape. Heh heh heh. *rubs hands*no subject
Thanks for reading, Mariole.
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You know, it feels different somehow. Eh, and I mean different in a good way. Can't wait to find out what's going on in Bree. Hmm, spies and curfews. And Frodo going back all alone to the hostel. I wonder...
Hehe, uses this icon again, you do understand I expect some kind of trouble, yes?
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Thanks for the lovely feedback, Suzy.
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Yays! We are so glad to have you on board! This was a terrific beginning! Merry & Frodo!!! Yays!!! I look forward to more! Thank you so much!
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((hugs))
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I am a big fan of Bree fics, especially Bree fics where Frodo gets
thrown in jailinto trouble. Your Strider kind of gives me the creeps but so does the entire Bree area at night with this curfew and new rule. I think you've got a great start to this fic and I look forward to reading more.no subject
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I was planning on stopping at this story tonight, but I can't. I have to read chapter 2. Remember, this is all your fault.
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As for the suspense, hey, at least you don't have to wait two months for chapter 3 like everyone else. Thanks for reading!
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