Chapter three: Worries

Primula didn't delight in the conversation with the Sackville-Bagginses at all. Lobelia didn't show her dislike for the Brandybuck folk openly, but she made no secret out of it either. Primula was glad when the teapot was empty after she had refilled Otho's cup, so she could leave the table for a minute and go into the kitchen.

Sighing heavily she sank on a chair. She shook her head. Why had she invited the Sackville-Bagginses, still hoping that Lobelia may have changed her mind concerning her ancestry now that she lived in Bywater for more than ten years? Few of the hobbits now talked of her as 'a Brandybuck'. Most of them considered her as much a Baggins as her husband. But Lobelia would never change her mind. For her she would always stay the queer woman from across the river. Lost in thought she looked out of the window. Her son was not to be seen. Wondering if he was getting along with Lotho alright she got to her feet and put on another pot of tea. At least the afternoon would soon be over.

As she went back into the living-room Lotho stepped in. Primula looked at him quizzically.

"Where's Frodo?" she desired to know.

Lotho stopped short looking at her stunned. "Isn't he here? I thought he'd go home."

"Home? From where?" Drogo asked."Where have you been?"

Lotho shrugged. "We were on the way to Bywater when suddenly he turned 'round and dashed off. I thought he'd come here."

Primula and Drogo exchanged worried glances. Lotho smiled when Primula's incriminating eyes suddenly came to rest upon him. "What have you done to him?"

"Primie…" Drogo interrupted before she could say more.

Lobelia shot her a glance. "Stop insulting my son! He's done nothing wrong."

Primula glanced at her angrily feeling the entire wrath she had held under control all afternoon seethe.

Drogo pulled her to his side whispering quietly: "You know Frodo wasn't looking forward to this visit. Probably he's just gone off. He will return in the evening as soon as the S.B.s are gone."

Nodding slowly she stepped back to the table, put down the teapot and declared matter-of-factly that she had no intend to insult Lotho. Lobelia threw back her head saying nothing, while Otho stayed silent like he had done almost all afternoon.

~~~~~~

The sun was setting low when Drogo and Primula finally bid their guests farewell. The wind was getting fresh again. She shivered and Drogo instantly laid an arm around her shoulder drawing her close. The cart rattled down the road and disappeared in the fading sunlight. Primula sighed heavily, her eyes wandering to the tree in whose branches Frodo liked to sit. The yellow and red leaves rustled in the wind.

"I'm troubled," she whispered soundlessly.

Drogo watched her with loving eyes. "Don't worry. You know Frodo. He'll be here before nightfall."

She chuckled. "At least he'll be in time for dinner."

He laughed picking out a leaf from her light brown hair which had somehow gotten entangled in her curls.

Primula busied herself with the cleaning up. Still an inexplicable feeling of disquiet troubled her mind. Every so often she found herself glancing out of the window, looking for her son to return. But there was no sign of him. She told herself not to worry but the feeling lingered and instead of growing less it increased with every minute that passed.

"Something happened," she said as she came back into the living-room where her husband was busy with the fire.

He sighed putting the tongs down and standing up. "He's alright," he assured her as he advanced her slowly. "He will turn up at any moment."

But Primula wasn't so easy to calm down. "No," she breathed shaking her head. Her brow creased as she looked at him pleadingly. "He's in trouble, I can feel it."

Silently he looked into her eyes when she asked him to search for Frodo. Seeing that he could do nothing to calm her down, he finally nodded and headed for the door. While grabbing for his cloak and lightening a lantern he told her again that she shouldn't worry too much and that Frodo soon would be back. She nodded, though Drogo could see that she hadn't calmed down at all. "I'll be back soon," he promised kissing her brow. "Don't you worry, I'm sure he's alright."

The last sunbeams glittered in her hair which was swirling wildly about her neck because of the fresh wind, as she watched her husband walking down the road. With him she sent a silent plea, begging for her son to return safely. Long she stood in front of the door, her own cloak wrapped around her shoulders, looking into the distance. The sunlight was conquered by darkness and night was pushing forward with all its strength. Primula shivered at the thought of her child being alone in the cold darkness. Again her eyes were drawn to the tree. Its leaves rustled angrily, its branches bowed slightly in the wind which was growing stronger.

When she went back into the warm and comfortable hobbithole, she found that she could not find any peace. A silent, yet intense fear had taken hold of her and held her now in a firm grip. She was unable to sit quiet, always pacing from one chamber to the next looking out from every window hoping to see her son. Especially Frodo's room had developed an odd force of attraction. Every so often she found herself standing in the midst of the chamber without even knowing how she got there.

Time passed when suddenly she heard the entrance door open. She rushed to the corridor half expecting to be greeted by the laughing of Frodo, but instead she found herself standing in front of Drogo who had an unspoken question in his eyes.

"You have not found him?" she asked still hoping he was only teasing her and Frodo was just waiting outside the door, though in the back of her mind she knew that he did not tease. Still she couldn't help but to rush outside and assure herself that Frodo was not with him. She felt the grip of fear tighten as she looked about frantically. Tears filled her eyes as she slowly turned around to look pleadingly at her husband."Where is our son, Drogo?" she whispered, her brow creasing. "Where is my child?"

It pained him to see her in so much trouble. He lowered his gaze avoiding to look into her eyes. "I don't know," he breathed recognising that he too became wet-eyed. He had hoped to find Frodo at home at his return but now he felt his heart sink. Where could his son be? He had walked to Bywater and back again and even asked Olo Boffin who was the father of Frodo's friend Folco, if he had seen him. Putting an arm around Primula he hugged her tightly.

"We must find him quickly, Drogo," she told him. "You know he fears darkness, especially when he's alone and…" she sobbed. "I can't even go to him and soothe him and tell him that everything will be alright should he be crying right now."

Drogo knew that he had to act quickly now. First of all he would bring Primula back into the living-room and then he would go back to Bywater and raise the village.

"No!" Primula cried out as he led her inside the Smial. Her eyes searched his, glimmering desperately. "There is no time to lose! Don't worry about me. Go now and please… don't dare to return without my dear little Frodo."

Drogo knew she was right and so he kissed her one last time tasting her salty tears on his lips, before disappearing in the shadows of the night.

Trembling all over she stood at the entrance door looking fearfully into the night. She felt like crying but no more tears found their way to her eyes. She swallowed them all. If Frodo returned on his own, he shouldn't see her crying.

Drogo went to Bywater on a quick pace. The wind whistled in his ears. The lantern in his hand creaked, its flame flickered. He could feel the fear that had taken hold of Primula earlier, now creeping towards him and engulfing him silently. Desperately he cried out Frodo's name. A thought was growing in his mind making him even more anxious than he already was. What would he do if he didn't find Frodo? He abandoned the idea instantly. He mustn't think something like that.

Once he had reached Bywater it didn't take him very long to gather the hobbits. Many of them assembled at the road and discussed their course of action. Search parties were made and soon groups of three or four hobbits were swarming all the way from Bywater to the home of the Bagginses in search of Frodo.

The sun was rising and still their efforts had been in vain. There was no sign of Frodo.

In the early morning hours Laura Boffin had gone to Primula with her son Folco. She declared that no mother should be alone when her child was missing, and she would look after her until Frodo was found. Primula was in a bad condition, when she opened the door to greet Laura. Her face was pale, her eyes wet with tears. She was worried sick about her son.

The day passed slowly. At noon there was still no sign of Frodo and there were already some who gave up hope, saying that the boy probably ran off to who-knows-where. Primula glared angrily at everybody who said that. All too well did she know that her son would never run off. She was cursing Lotho Sackville-Baggins and herself for ordering Frodo to go spend the afternoon with him. "Who knows what he's done to him this year?" she snorted remembering very well that it was on the day Lotho visited that Frodo got all his hair glued.

No one could hold Primula in her home as the hour grew late. She couldn't sit idly; she had to look for Frodo herself. The wind whistled in her ears as she stepped down the road joining the chorus of voices calling for her son. But there never was an answer.

It was evening when her voice got raspy and she finally saw her husband again. He looked no less tired and exhausted than she did, standing under the shadow of a large oak tree. He smiled at her sadly but the smile faded quickly making way for tears. Primula ran towards him and hugged him tightly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely. "I could not find him. I don't know where else I should look for him."