Setting: Hobbiton; 1423, by Shire-Reckoning. 

Arwen (4 years old) birth date, said to be October 24, 1419;

Elanor (2 years old) March 25 1421;

Frodo-lad (5 months) 1423

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything in this story, it all belongs to Tolkien, brilliant man.  Really, I mean, who else do you know who can create different languages, cultures and thousands of years of history with them?  The only thing I might possibly own is Arwen Baggins (no relation to me, lol).  I own the girl, but not the name- that’s straight from Tolkien.  Confusing, I know.  Enjoy.

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Title: His Little Evenstar

Chapter Three: Misunderstandings

            Arwen lay down on her bed, sobbing into the pillow to muffle the noise. She had an aching burn in her eyes and a hot sticky face. If her father came in to check on her, she'd have a lot of explaining to do. She could usually talk to him about anything, but today she felt that she'd 'crack' if she even had to look at him. How dare he break his promise? Well, everyone broke a promise once in a while. But not like this? He had always been perfectly serious about never leaving her, always said that he loved her. So why the sudden change of mind. Why did he suddenly hate her so much that he would want to leave her forever? She knew the answer immediately. He had said that she was too much of a burden, and she knew that her father wasn't the healthiest Hobbit in the Shire, particularly after his adventures. But what if she could change that? Of course, she couldn't make all of her daddy's bad memories go away. But she could be a good girl and make his job easier. That's it! That's what I'll do! I'll be the best daughter in the whole Shire, then he won't have to go! Having solved her own problem, Arwen promptly dried her tears and left the room, determined to be a burden no longer.

            Arwen returned to the kitchen to find that Daddy and his wizard friend had changed the subject to something far more pleasant.

            "Aye," Daddy was saying. "Aunt Eglantine was so mad! Said that Pippin could have burned Hobbiton to a crisp, never mind that it was all Merry's idea. I still can't believe they actually lit the firework inside the tent!"

            "Yes," Gandalf agreed. "But since tomorrow is Pippin's coming-of-age, perhaps he'll be better behaved. And fortunately Merry's son is far too young to get into any real mischief."

            "We must still be on our guard. After all, Merry and Pippin aren't the only prankster cousins in the Shire."

            Arwen knew that it wasn't polite to interrupt the adults, but she knew that she couldn't stand around all day waiting for them to finish besides she knew where this was going. Every time Daddy started talking about Uncle Bilbo's eleventy-first party, the topic always ended soon thereafter, with Daddy's head in his hands. He never said anything, but it didn't take a magical Elf to figure out that he was thinking about the bad parts of his adventures. "Hi, Daddy," she greeted, giving him her most charming smile.

            Frodo saw right past the mask. "Arwen, is something wrong?"

            "NO!"

            Frodo wasn't fooled. She had spoken both too loudly and too quickly. He looked at her in the eye with a grim expression: the one that said 'Alright, what is it?' "Arwen, are you telling me the truth?"

            "Yes, Daddy," Arwen answered truthfully. Everything was fine, really. He wasn't going to leave. She had it all worked out. What could possibly be more fine?

            "Arwen Baggins!"

            Arwen faltered a little. Whenever her full name was used it wasn't a good sign, and always made her nervous.

            "Is there something you're not telling me?" It was really more of a statement than a question. He knew there was something else, but he was simply giving her a second chance to be honest, and to provide an adequate explanation for not being wholly truthful from the start.

            "Really, Daddy, I'm fine." She caught a reprimanding look from Gandalf and decided to continue, upon realizing that he might turn her into a toad. On second thought, a toad might be too ordinary. He'd probably make something up, which could only be worse. She had no wish to find out what sort of creature a wizard could dream up. "Well, there was something bothering me, but not anymore. I figured it out."

            That seemed to satisfy Frodo for the moment. "We'll talk about this later. In the mean time, could you go out to the garden and get some taters and mushrooms. Uncle Sam and Aunt Rosie should be home soon and I want to have Dinner waiting for them."

            "Yes, Daddy." The lass picked up a few baskets from the kitchen and headed for the garden, quite relieved to be out of the hole. One more questioning stare from Daddy would have had her crying in his lap, spilling out the whole story and she couldn't have that happen. Particularly not with Gandalf here. Uncle Sam had told her what had happened when Gandalf had caught him eavesdropping as a conspirator. Her ear hurt just thinking about it. Besides, kneeling down in the dirt and being well out of earshot of her father almost made her forget that he had planned to leave. Almost.

            Once she had gathered three full baskets - Uncle Sam and Aunt Rosie were bound to be really hungry after walking all over the Shire, and she had no idea how much food wizards ate and she didn't want to run out during Dinner - she crept back into the kitchen, hoping to sneak past her father. But her job was suddenly made easier upon discovering that both Frodo and Gandalf had left the room, and she knew exactly where they had gone to without even looking. They'd gone to the study to work on Daddy's book about his adventures. What did he call it? The Red Book? Well that was silly name. Why not give it something that sounded a bit more intriguing. A color didn't say anything about it, except perhaps the color of the cover, which didn't really matter. Which is why you shouldn't be thinking about it, Arwen. Now get started with the soup

            She really didn't know what her father had planned to cook for Dinner, but that didn't matter either since he wasn't cooking. The first helpful thing she was going to do cook some tater and mushroom soup for him, as it was the only thing she knew how to cook. "Now, where to start. Ah, yes. The carrots." She pulled up a stool and then took out a small paring knife and began to peel the vegetables. This was going to be fun. She knew that her father had only asked for taters and mushrooms but she wanted to do something more to show him what a big help she could be. She had wanted to gather some herbs, like Rosemary, Sage, or Thyme. But she couldn't remember which one was which. But she did know what Kingsfoil looked like, so she had picked up a few leaves of that as well. Whenever Daddy wasn't feeling well, Aunt Rosie's Kingsfoil tea always made him feel better. Not that she understood why. She had once accidentally drank from his cup believing it to be her own. It hadn't taken her more than a few seconds to recognize her mistake. The stuff may have had a pleasant smell, but it tasted awful, worse even than that Echinacea medicine that Aunt Rosie had insisted on giving her last month.

            Arwen continued working until she was interrupted by a very familiar shriek.

            "Arwen, what in Middle-earth are you doing?"

            The lass in question turned to see the horrified and dumbfounded stares of her Uncle Sam and Aunt Rosie. "Making Dinner," she answered sweetly. "The soup's almost done, Aunt Rosie. Wanna taste it?"

            Aunt Rosie still didn't respond. Her eyes were instead fixed on the mess around the kitchen. "It looks like a herd of oliphaunts was here."

            "No," said Uncle Sam. "More like a troll! I've met both and this looks like the work of a troll to me."

            It can't be that bad. Then again - Upon second glance, however, she realized that Aunt Rosie and Uncle Sam were probably right. She'd cut her fingers several times, which accounted for the fist aid supplies on the table, diced vegetables were all over the counter and the tea kettle had boiled over, coating the better half of the kitchen with the sweet-smell of Kingsfoil herbs. The explosion itself hadn't created too much of a mess. Most of the damage has been done afterwards when she had tried to carry the kettle to the table. However she had panicked into forgetting the mitts. She had done a frantic dance in attempt to get away from the burning liquid and back to the stool, deciding to mop it up once it had cooled down. That had been at least twenty minutes ago.

            "Alright, child. I know you were trying to help, but you'd best let me take over now."

            "Oh." This was not at all what she had planned. She had wanted to show Daddy that she could help. But instead of helping she was becoming more of a nuisance. Maybe Daddy's right about leaving. Maybe I am too much trouble.

            Rosie saw the tears in the child's eyes and got an idea. "Arwen, where's your Dad?"

            "In the study I think. He and Gandalf are probably working on the stupid book."

            ‘Stupid book’? Sam and Rosie looked at each other and then back at Arwen. Sam was about to open his mouth but Rosie was faster. "Sam, why don't you go see if they need any help. Arwen and I will get Dinner ready. Your job is to keep Master Frodo and Mr. Gandalf out of this room until we call for you."

            Sam reluctantly agreed and headed down the hall. He was soon out of sight, leaving the lasses to themselves. Within another half-hour the kitchen was clean, and the tea was done, the only thing left to do was wait for the soup to cool down.

            "Now, Arwen, what's wrong?"

            Arwen looked up at her "Aunt", confused. "Nuthin'," she insisted, her eyes brimming over with tears.

            "Now that ain't the truth, young lass. Master Frodo would never have let you cook on your own and a simple mess - however big- would never give you reason to cry. Never has before. And you don't call his book 'stupid' for nuthin'."

            "Alright, I'll tell you. But you gotta promise not to tell, Daddy."

            "Well, sweetie, I can't lie to my boss, but I'll keep the secret as long as you promise to tell him yourself when you see fit."

            Arwen nodded. That would work. She often forgot that "Uncle Sam and Aunt Rosie" were Daddy's gardener and housekeeper. They had always seemed more like extended family. Like at Brandy Hall. "Daddy's leaving. I heard him talking to Gandalf. And he said he ain't ever comin' back. And since he plans to leave he should be spending more time with us, but instead he stays locked in the study working on that THING!" Arwen's rage was returning and was evident on her small face as she looked up at her aunt. In return she had expected a look of disbelief, but instead she found one of understanding.

            "I know," Aunt Rosie replied. "He told me about his plan a few weeks ago. He said he needed someone to talk to, but he couldn't stand the thought of talking to you or Sam just yet. Do you know why he's leaving?"

            Arwen nodded. "He said I'm too much trouble for him, especially when he's sick."

            "Arwen, your father loves you, and while you - indeed all lads and lasses - can be handfuls for their parents that's not why he's leaving. Not all of the reason anyway."

            "Really? Then why?"

            "I think that is for your father to explain." Aunt Rosie handed her a handkerchief. "I'm going to get Elanor and Frodo-lad ready for Dinner. You call us once the soup is cooled and your face is dry, okay?"

            "Yes, Aunt Roise."

            "That's a good lass." Aunt Rosie put the remaining vegetables in the pantry and then disappeared down the hall.

            Arwen stirred the soup, but her mind was elsewhere. Aunt Rosie's words hadn't really helped all that much. Even she had agreed that Arwen was a handful. And that would still have to change and fast. She'd be good, even if it meant just sitting at the table for the entire party tomorrow. If Daddy saw that she could be good at the party, then he'd really have to reconsider leaving. And she wasn't going to tell him that she knew until she had proved her point. Her Daddy wasn't going to leave! She wouldn't allow it!

~To Be Continued~

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