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Frances Barratt' s Fanfiction Page 2
-Forever Friends-

-Forever Friends-
by Frances Barratt
Part 1

For more than a year, Frodo and Jessamine had met each Saturday at Buckleberry Ferry. He had sent letter after letter back to Hobbiton with her, pleading for a meeting with his uncle Bilbo, none had been answered with what he hoped to read. They had been polite responses, nothing more; wishing him well and hoping that he found happiness in his new home. It remained a mystery to the Orphan as to why he couldn’t make that return journey with Jess. On a sunny, September day about a fortnight short of his 14th birthday, Frodo decided upon a bold plan.
   Saturday couldn’t come swift enough for the impatient Hobbit. Two years as an orphan hadn’t eased the hollow feeling; in fact, the emptiness grew; so much so that some days, he felt it would swallow him. However, that particular Saturday, he refused to be sucked into the dark void of despair. The weather was perfect; he’d done his chores to Aunt Acacia’s high standards and was now free to go and meet his friend. His relatives knew about Jessamine Goodchild; it had been a source of amusement at first but they’d soon grown tired of ridiculing him over the fact that he’d made friends with a maid-child! Only uncle Saradas had shown a modicum of genuine interest and respect for Frodo.
   “At least you won’t be getting into any mischief!” he’d said.
   Well, not the kind of boisterous mischief normally associated with the Brandybuck boys; but Frodo was not averse to having fun. Nor had he outgrown his love of fresh mushrooms. That weakness would delay his meeting this particular day.
   Bamfurlong was five miles from the west bank of the Brandywine and Frodo calculated that he had time to cross over; catch the pony cart to the Lane; gather some mushrooms from the edge of Farmer Maggot’s field-not take the best- and be back at the boat-house well before Jess was due. Unfortunately, he’d not allowed for the possibility of the Farmer being in the field at the time.
   The sun was hot on Frodo’s face and even hotter on his back, so he slipped off his coat just as he reached the edge of the field. 
Nearby, he spotted a few small mushrooms in the shad of a tree’s roots. Overcome with the thrill and desire to have them, he stooped down and began to gather them. A rustling in the tall-growing crop nearby failed to alert him in time enough to make his escape. He’d been caught!
   “Is that you, Baggins?” the voice boomed. 
   Frodo just got to his feet when the Farmer appeared between the cornstalks and a hand shot   out before he could move.
   “I’ve warned ‘ee more’n enough, lad!” Maggot said as he jerked the startled Hobbit away from the tree. 
   “ But… they’re not the best…” A hand slapped his face.  “Ow! Frodo reacted.
   “ Did ‘ee think I didn’t mean what I said back then?”
   “About what? “
   “Thievin’from my fields!”
   “They’re wild mushrooms, “ Frodo protested. 
   “ On my land!” and he raised a cudgel.
   Frodo’s arms went up to fend off the blows, several of which landed on his shoulders. With just his linen shirt covering the flesh there, the cudgel dealt a stinging reminder of the Farmer’s initial warning. “Ow! Please… argh! Farmer Maggot! Eek!” No matter how he leapt away or thought he could dodge the Farmer’s arm, the stumpy stick always found somewhere soft to land; the last time, right across Frodo’s rump. Flesh and pride took a battering until the weapon was lowered.  Breathing heavily; tears filling his eyes from pain and shame. Frodo glared  up at his attacker. “ They’re wild mushrooms,” he repeated defiantly.
   Farmer Maggot met the resolute glare from the big, blue eyes of the Orphan. “You’re tresspassin’ Next time I catch ‘ee, I’ll set my dogs loose! You ‘ear me? “ as he shook the cudgel at Frodo.
   “I hear,” he answered through gritted teeth.
   “Then get you gone. Shoo!”
   Frodo ran-all the way back to the Lane, hoping to meet up with the pony-cart coming towards the Ferry hoping that Jess wasn’t on it.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Farmer Maggot's Mushrooms. Best left alone.

-FOREVER FRIENDS-
By Frances Barratt
Part 2

He reached the Lane and slowed down to a walking pace; it was then that the full impact of Farmer Maggot’s thrashing of him became painfully obvious. Frodo’s shoulder’s smarted and his muscles were beginning to stiffen. Whether there was any broken skin, he couldn’t tell; once he reached the boat-house, he might have time to find out; until then, there was no choice but to walk the five miles to the Ferry. He was already regretting his foray for mushrooms, all of which had been lost.
   From somewhere behind came the familiar sound of hooves and cartwheels. Standing beside the road, Frodo looked anxiously up the Lane. Would Jess be on the cart? Would she reprimand him for his foolishness? Chewing on his bottomlip, the anxious Orphan began to add his fingernails to the chewing process until he’d bitten all on his right hand beyond recognition. Sighing, he viewed the ruined nails with added anxiety; Jess wouldn’t want such a foolish boy for a friend. How he hated not being of an age to take charge of his own life. Then he remembered the private promise and nodded to himself. “I’ll do it,” he said aloud. Then the cart came into view. Pushing back his shoulders; wincing at the new pain but remaining resolute, Frodo stepped into the road.
   It was impossible to see if anyone rode in the back of the cart so Frodo had to be patient until it came nearer. He raised a hand in greeting and the Carter hailed him.
   “Waiting for a ride, young Master?” he shouted.
   “Yes. Do you carry any passengers?” Frodo queried apprehensively.
  “ That I do; always folk wanting to come to the River. Though why they’d want to be within half a mile of it is beyond my understanding.” He was silent but a moment. “There’s a lass in the back I think you know!”
   Frodo could-by then-see the Carter’s face and the broad grin upon it. He felt the blush as heat on his own cheeks and the sense of youthful shyness that prompted and fuelled it.  Clearing his throat, he called back a response. “Am I late then?”
   “How’d I know?” and he turned on the board to enquire. “ She says not,” he laughed. “You’d be Frodo Baggins then,”
   “Yes.” The cart was but a yard away now and Frodo’s eyes went to the back of it. She was leaning over the left side and had seen him. He waved then buried both hands in his trouser pockets. This felt totally different; never before had he been fearful of meeting Jess. No-fear was the wrong definition. What then? Eager? Yes; eager to acquaint her with his plan. Ah- the plan…
   Reining in the pony, the Carter looked down on Frodo. “Jump on then or I’ll be late. I’m expected back at Stock to pick up some folk heading for Frogmorton.”
   Running around to the back of the cart, Frodo scrambled aboard, hardly able to look Jess in the eye. Her mother spoke to him though.
  “Our Jess was fretting that we were late and you wouldn’t wait for her. I told her there was no need to worry; friends don’t cut and run,” and she smiled warmly at Frodo.
   “I lost track of time myself,” he began.
   “ See, Jess, Jade said, turning to her daughter. “The lad does have other things to do.”
   “No, I don’t; it was…” but he wanted to explain to Jess alone.
   Jade piped up again: “ It was our Samwise you see; silly lad went and fell over, cut his knee so bad that Bell was in a right pickle.
She’s had four bairns so you’d think she would know better by now;  but she dotes on little Samwise. Were he the only lad, I might understand, but there’s two more ahead of him.”
   “Mother, “ Jess interrupted, “Frodo doesn’t want to hear about our family’s little upsets.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Frodo said.
   Jessamine looked at him; shook her head then said: “ Why are you this far from the boat-house?”
   “Ah,” and his eyes dropped. He began to tremble as the shock of his assault sank in.
  “ Are you alright, Frodo?” and she put a hand on his shoulder.
   He winced. “I’m hurt, “ he whispered. 
  “Mother! Frodo’s hurt!” Jess all but shrieked. 
  “ See; everyone wants Jade Goodchild’s healing hands. Tut, tut, what’s the matter with you then?” she said, swooping across the cart to where Frodo sat.
   He cringed. Dare he tell an adult what another adult had done to him? She’d want to know why. So he told the story. “I was picking mushrooms; Farmer Maggot found me and beat me.”
  “Oh, you poor lamb,” Jade simpered, encircling Frodo with a true motherly embrace. “He’s a bit too eager in protecting his property. He didn’t set the dogs on you, did he?” she said, alarmed at the thought.
  “no, but he threatened to. It was only a few wild mushrooms.”
   “Skinflint,” Jade denounced. “ Where’d he hit you?”
   “ Across my shoulders. They’re sore.”
   “I’m not surprised. All speed, Master Carter if you please. I have to reach my brother-in-law so I can tend to this poor boy. What a day we’re having, Jess, what a day! Your cousin’s tumble is nothing compared to this. I’ll have to get my Halfred to speak with Farmer Maggot. My husband will see it right, “ she explained to Frodo. “No one dares challenge Halfred Goodchild when right’s on his side.”
   Frodo was both greatful and disturbed. Mistress Goodchild seemed formidable enough so what was her husband like?  He’d heard other names new to him and reasoned that if ‘Samwise’ was cousin to Jess and his mother was ‘Bell’, then to whom was Jade related by blood? He would learn all in good time. 
   Jess shuffled closer to Frodo on the seat. “Aunt Bell is so nice.” She informed. “You mustn’t take too much notice of Mother, she thinks everyone ought to be like her and we’re not.”
   “Aren’t we?”
   “No. Our Sam’s a bit like you. I’ve come to realise; and he’s like his mother and Uncle Tiller-which makes sense as they are brother and sister.”
   Frodo smiled. It was as if Jess had read the confusion in his mind. “So your father is their brother.”
   “That’s right; how clever of you.”
   “Oh, part was easy- the name you see: Goodchild.”
   “Names don’t always decide how we turn out,” and she eyed Frodo purposefully. “Was it stealing?” she asked him.
  “Well… they were wild mushrooms; I didn’t touch anything he’d planted.”
   “Trespassing then?” as her eyebrows raised. 
   “I suppose so, “and he hung his head mumbling: ” You won’t want to be friends with a trespasser.”
   “I never said so,” letting her hand cover his. “I’ll  always  be your friend Frodo Baggins.”
   “Always?” and his head raised. 
   “Forever friends,” she assured, squeezing the fingers whose nails he’d so brutally chewed. She noticed. “ You shouldn’t bite your nails.”
   “No.”
   “I’ll help you to stop.”
   “How?”
   “By making you happy!”
   “You do that already!” he grinned.
   Jess’s smile evaporated. “You know about my weakness?” she asked.
   “I don’t know what it is,” he replied.
   “My heart. I mustn’t get upset or over-excited-ever.”
   “Then I promise never to upset you,” as he swapped hands so hers were in his.
   “ My life on it.”

TO BE CONTINUED...…

-FOREVER FRIENDS-
 by Frances Barratt
  Part 3
 
The small party arrived at the boat-house about one o'clock in the afternoon and the passengers alighted.  Straight away, Jade bustled Frodo into the utility building and began fussing over him.
     "Let me see if they are cuts or just bruises," and she ordered him to remove his shirt.
     Now, Frodo was a modest sort of lad and always valued his privacy.  Long before her death, his mother hadn't washed or dressed him, and so it was that he stood -- tight-lipped -- staring at Jade.
     "Come now, you can't be that bashful," she said, mocking him.
     "If it's all the same to you, Mistress Goodchild, I'll wait until we've crossed over and Master Tiller can look at them."
     "Hmph; very well.  I thought he might be on this side to meet us, but never mind."
     "We are late, Mother," Jess reminded.
     "Then you ought not to lose anymore time on my account," Frodo put in.
     Jade looked at the two youngsters and a sinking feeling took hold of her.  They were so well matched; it was a great pity...  She sighed; no use dwelling on impossibilities and they were still so very young.  The Orphan was already a good-looking lad so he'd never be short of female admirers.  All to the good.  But she'd not put a blight upon their friendship and companionship -- as long as it remained just so.  Plumping up her bravado, Jade summoned a smile then said: "Fine, do you feel fit enough to help me with the ropes on the Ferry, Frodo?"
     "I'm sure I can manage.  Perhaps the exertion will ease the pain."
     Jess leaned closer to him, oblivious to -- or just ignoring -- her mother's disapproving stare.  "I'll help too," she told him.
     "You mustn't," he shot back.  "These aches won't kill me," and he rushed outside to begin untying the ropes.  By the time the two females joined him, he was on board the Ferry and all set to take it across, where Tiller Goodchild stood waiting for his precious charge to land.  No sooner had it done so than both his sister-in-law and niece started to speak at once so that he understood neither.
     "Whoa!  Ladies; ladies, please, spare the ears of a poor Ferryman.  I'm not so clever as to be able to 'ear the two of 'ee at once."  Then he looked at Frodo.  "You alright, lad?  You don't seem as chirpy as usual."
     "Farmer Maggot beat him!" Jess said indignantly.
     Tiller stared back at Frodo; the Orphan hung his head.  "Mushrooms?" the Ferry Master said, his lip quivering with amusement.
     Frodo nodded.
     "Shame on 'im.  As if 'e's not got enough without a few little mushrooms."  He went up to Frodo and put a hand on his shoulder.  "Sore, is it?"
     "Very."
     Whispering in the lad's ear, the grown-up said: "I'll see 'ee right.  Got some grand stuff my Grandma swore by.  Want me to put some on?"
     "Please,  Thank you."
     "Right.  Right now; Jade, you an' the young 'un go an' make us a nice cup o' tea an' I'll do some 'pastoral doctoring' as my old Ma used to call it," and he led Frodo into the cottage.
     Without being bidden, Frodo took himself into a corner; slid the braces off his shoulders and began unbuttoning his shirt.
     "Let's see now," Tiller said, going up to Frodo.  He carried a small pot in one hand and put himself between the Orphan and the females.  As Frodo removed the shirt, Tiller gasped.  "Mercy on us!" he cried.
     "Is it bad?" Frodo asked, craning his neck around in an attempt to see the damage.
     "Bruises as big as apples!  Skin's not broken though so the salve will do it.  Sit down, lad so's I can get a proper goings on."
     Frodo sat and endured the stinging yet again as the application of the ointment awoke the nerves in his shoulders.  But when Master Tiller had finished, the pain was already subsiding making putting on the shirt easier than removing it.  "Thank you," Frodo said.
     "You're welcome.  Is that tea ready, Jade?  The lad'll be glad of summat t'calm 'im down.  'Ow could the old bull be so mean to a mere boy?" Tiller mused.
     "I'm not a boy any longer; I'm almost fourteen."
     "An' a long ways t'go afore you're all grown."
     "More's the pity," Frodo bemoaned, then looked up to see Jess approaching him.  He smiled at her as she handed him a mug of hot tea.
     "Better now?" she asked.
     "It doesn't smart anymore."
     "Where were we to go today then?"
     "There's the copse at the back of Brandy Hall; I saw squirrels there."  He turned expectant eyes upon her.  "Any news?"
     "Ma was given a letter, but I think it's for your Uncle Saradas."
     Disappointment flooded through Frodo like a cloudburst.  "Nothing for me then?" and he put his left thumb in his mouth and began chewing at the nail.
     "No -- and stop that," Jess commanded, slapping his hand.
     "Why doesn't he answer my letters?  Mistress Goodchild," he began, swivelling around on the stool.  "You did give my Uncle the letter I asked you to deliver last week?"
     She narrowed her eyes at him.  " 'Course I did.  I put it on that writing-stand of his.  He's always sitting there scribbling things down; he's bound to have seen it."
     "So you didn't actually give it to him?"
     She squirmed under the steady gaze.  "Well... no, but he weren't there when I got to Bag End; off on some errand of his own."
     "I see."  Frodo lowered his eyes and his whole body slumped with disappointment.
     "Have you written another?" Jess asked.
     "No, because I was expecting to receive one."
     "Then do it and I'll take it to Mister Bilbo."
     Frodo smiled his thanks at so simple a solution; drank his tea and then he and Jess headed out for their walk.
 
TO BE CONTINUED...

Farmer Maggot is not at all pleased about Frodo' s craving for mushrooms.

-FOREVER FRIENDS-
 by Frances Barratt 
 Part 4
 
The labyrinth that was Brandy Hall always held a certain amount of awe for Frodo; to Jess, it was a terrifying place.  She was never sure who was who amongst the Brandybuck clan or whether she'd already met whoever appeared from the numerous passages.  And so it was on that Saturday afternoon when Frodo took her back there so that he could write yet one more letter to Bilbo.
     "You will get me back to Uncle Tiller's by five o'clock?" she asked as the facade of the Hall loomed before her.
     "Of course," he assured her.  "The letter won't take me long."  Then he suddenly halted, grabbed her hand and said: "I'm coming with you."
     "What?" she shrieked.  "Where?  When?"
     "To Hobbiton.  When you go home, I'm coming too."
     "But... you can't."
     "Why not?  I'm not a child; they don't care where I am once my chores are done, so how are they to know?  How far is it?" as he suddenly remembered that he didn't know the distance.
     "It's a half-day journey by cart.  Fifty miles at least," she added.  "They are going to miss you for the length of time it will take you to go and come back."
     "I'm not coming back."
     Jess stared hard at Frodo.
     "This is what I planned; what I wanted to tell you," he said excitedly.
     "So why didn't you tell me earlier?" she asked, scowling at him.
     "I wasn't sure how you'd react."
     "I'm not sure how I am reacting," she said in all honesty.  "Frodo, you are still a minor; they'll bring you back."
     "Not if I can talk to Bilbo and tell him all that's been going on."
     "But the Brandybucks are your guardians, you can't change that -- not easily anyway."
     "Why not?  My father was a Baggins; I'm a Baggins by right, why shouldn't I live with a Baggins?"
     She sighed.  "Because... well; Mister Bilbo's a bachelor and not used to young folk around.  He cringes when the Gamgees go round."
     "The -- who?"
     "My cousins: our Sam's brothers and sisters."
     "I can behave like a grown-up," pouted Frodo.
     Jess smiled.  "Are you going to write the letter?  In case Mister Bilbo isn't home when we... you get there.  You could leave it for the Postmaster to hand on."
     "Or you.  You promised to deliver it for me."
     "And I will; if you wish it."  She thought for a moment.  "What will you do if Mister Bilbo isn't at home?  He still wanders the Shire; 'lost in his memories' as my Uncle Hamfast says."
     "Memories of what?"
     She sniggered.  "Now there's a tale and a half!  Best told by firelight -- and not by me."  Lowering her voice, she revealed: "A dragon comes into it.  Nigh on forty years back it happened."
     Frodo frowned.  "I heard talk of treasure being brought back to the Shire.  Was it really Bilbo who found it?"  He gave a small gasp.  "Perhaps he thinks I want to share in it!"
     Jess's eyes widened.  "Why would he think that if you never heard the tale before?"
     Frodo answered with a shrug.  "Not to worry now, we're wasting time.  Come inside and help me word this letter."
     "Me?  I'm not lettered like you."
     He beamed at her.  "Then it's time you learned, Jessamine Goodchild!" and he tutted at her; tightened the grip on her hand and led her into Brandy Hall.
     There were various Brandybucks and assorted relatives by marriage within the Hall, but not one batted an eyelid as the Orphan and his companion passed through the passages.  Frodo held onto Jess's hand, as much to comfort himself as to reassure her, and at length, they reached his small room.  It's door stood wide open and he hurried towards it, pulling up sharply just over the threshold.  "What do you want?" he said angrily.
     Coming hot on his heels, Jess saw who Frodo accused the second after he'd spoken.  A portly Hobbit swung away from a dresser set against a wall; in his hands, he clutched a letter.  No sooner had she taken in the scene than Frodo bolted forward and snatched the letter.
     "You've no business prying into my things!" Frodo said indignantly.  He looked at the sealed correspondence; his indignance swelled to full-blown anger.  "How many times have you been in here, Seredic?"
     "I live here," the older Hobbit smirked.
     "Not in this room you don't!" gesturing to the floor as he spoke.
     "So that's the Lass," Seredic observed, an oily tone in his voice.  "Never noticed before; quite comely, isn't she?"
     Frodo grabbed Jess by the hand and shoved her behind him, putting himself between her and his cousin.  "Get out!" he ordered the lout, "and don't ever come in here again!"
     "How can you stop me, little Cousin?"
     "I'll find a way," Frodo said through clenched teeth.  By now, he was shaking with temper and the affrontry of the whole thing.
     "I'll leave -- for now.  It was a pleasure to meet you, Lass."  His eyes showed as black pin-points of menace as he walked out into the passageway.
     Frodo exhaled sharply; turned to face Jess and said: "Now do you understand why I have to leave?"
     "What was he doing with your letter?"
     "It's the last one I received from Bilbo..." but his voice trailed away as he looked at it.  "No, it isn't.  This one is still sealed," so he tore it open.  "It... it looks different."
     Peering over his shoulder, Jess confirmed: "That's Mister Bilbo's hand; I've seen it enough to know."
     Realisation dawned and Frodo shot across to the drawer where he'd kept all the previous letters.  "What about these?" he said, holding up the bundle.
     She looked.  "Oh, Frodo; these are not from Mister Bilbo."
     "But..."  He looked directly into Jess's warm eyes.  "They've been swapping his replies.  That's what Seredic was about to do: take the original and leave a forgery."  Overcome, Frodo hung his head but soon felt the warmth and tenderness of arms around him.  "Help me, Jess," he pleaded, looking at her face.
     "You know I will.  Come on, we're going to pack a bundle for you -- including these forgeries -- Mister Bilbo will soon sort it out for you."
     Gratitude turned to something stronger in that moment as adolescent love sprang into life.  Slipping his arms around her waist, he held her close and whispered into her ear: "Forever friends; nothing shall break that, I do swear it."
     Neither was sure how long they stoood, locked in the embrace; the giving and receiving of comfort was all that flowed between them.  Some time later, all of Frodo's few possessions were safely wrapped up and two young Hobbits left Brandy Hall by the back door.
 
THE END OF THIS CHAPTER...

Frodo in cart thinking of Jessamine Goodchild.
Will she be able to help him?

Main Page

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