Chapter five: Seven Days

Primula embraced her husband tightly.

"I don't know where else I should look for him."

Tears were filling her eyes as she heard her husband's words. He was right. They had looked everywhere for more than a day now and still Frodo was not to be found. Where could he be? What happened to her beloved child?

In her mind she could hear him laughing, giggling and singing those stupid children's songs he liked so much. Yet she knew that he was weeping and fearful and that pained her deeply. Little comfort were her husband's arms that were wrapped about her protectively. She needed her child, her Frodo. He must be found and then she would hold him close and never let him out of her eyes again.

Tom Cotton stood silent as he watched the two of them weep. He was a good friend of the Baggins family and he liked the young lad. He could not imagine young Mr. Frodo running away from home like many malicious tongues maintained. He looked west where the sun was already setting. Swallowing hard he advanced towards Drogo and his wife. "I'm sorry, Mr. Drogo," he said sadly. "Most of the hobbits are splitting up. They say it's hopeless and you won't find young Mr Frodo, least not in the night."

Drogo looked at him with unseeing eyes full of tears, but then he nodded. Primula looked into her husband's eyes with a frightened xpression.

"We can not give up so quickly!" she said, her eyes begging him to go on.

Drogo did not answer, but looked west to the setting sun. Primula followed his gaze and shook her head. "We cannot wait until tomorrow! Tomorrow it may be too late!"

Fresh tears filled her eyes as she realised what she had just said. She could not lose him. Frodo was her only child, her blessing when she had already given up hope of ever being a mother. And now she had failed him. She flinched at her own thoughts looking pleadingly at Tom Cotton and her husband.

"I'll help you to look for him," Tom suddenly said.

Drogo and Primula turned to him at once, both looking thankful and terribly sad at the same time.

Tom managed a smile: "I'd say we'd do best if we go back to your home. Maybe he's already turned up. Afterwards we can search the road again."

Primula and Drogo agreed weeping silently as they stepped back to the road, heading for their home.

~~~~~~

Primula had her head bowed, being totally lost in thought. Ever and anon she looked up, glancing about searchingly, half believing she heard Frodo crying for his mother. Drogo had laid an arm about her shoulder, always gazing from one side to the other.

They hadn't gone very far when Primula jerked to a stop. Drogo and Farmer Cotton looked at her questioningly, when she slowly lifted her head and turned around.

"What is it, dear?" Drogo asked.

Her eyes were fixed on the old stone-well. It had not been used for years, not since the tragic incident with a twelve year old girl who had fallen into it twenty years ago.

"We've not looked in the well," she whispered, not taking her eyes off it.

"The well is closed, Mrs. Primula," Tom said. "I myself have closed it yestereve."

"Yestereve?" Primula repeated looking at him frantically.

Slowly she stepped towards it, talking more to herself than to the others.

"You remember the young girl who had fallen into it? They had closed the well on the very evening she had disappeared. They had not seen her. When the well was opened again in spring they'd found her, dead."

Drogo and Farmer Cotton exchanged quick glances before they followed her, helping her to push aside the flagstone.

***

All the time She was laughing and singing, creeping about him, frightening him. Frodo had stopped crying, for he found that he had no more tears left. His tongue was dry and swollen but still he couldn't manage to drink the water from the well. His legs were hurting and besides being rescued his greatest wish was to stretch them again. But he didn't dare to stand up, not since he had seen Her. The image of Her cold, dead eyes, of Her pale face was agonising him. He had wrapped his trembling arms about him, squeezed his eyes shut and was rocking back and forth for hours now.

On the first four days you're fearful,

He had begged her to stop singing, pleaded that she would leave him be.

On the fifth day you will stop to cry.

But neither would work.

On the sixth day life gets tearful,

He had cried for his mother wishing that everything was no more than a bad dream, for a nightmare it was.

On the seventh day you'll die.

But he didn't wake.

On the seventh day you'll die.

She was always with him now, laughing, singing, terrorising him.

The agonising noise of stone scraping against stone made him jerk. Frodo's heart skipped a beat. Had he fallen asleep? Or did he truly hear the hopeful and yet paining noise of stone scraping against stone? Did someone remove the flag?

She was laughing still, but her laughter slowly grew faint.

Fearfully Frodo lifted his head, looking up. The glimmer of hope glistened in his eyes, as he saw that the flagstone move.

"Frodo!" It was his mother's desperate cry.

He gasped for breath. Every fibre of his body suddenly seemed to listen. Did the girl tease him, filling his mind with false hope or…

"Frodo!" Another cry, louder this time and more desperate.

"Mummy," he whispered breathlessly and then he shouted louder than ever before. His voice echoed from the walls but this time it didn't pierce his ears, but filled him with hope.

~~~~~~

"He's down there!" Primula shouted pushing even harder than before, forgetting her exhaustion and tiredness. "I'm here, Frodo, I'm here. I'm coming!"

Tom Cotton's heart stopped beating for a moment. He had thought it impossible that Mr. Frodo would be down there. How could he have closed the well with him inside? Frodo would have died if not for Primula.

When the flag was finally removed all three of them gathered round the well, but neither of them could see Frodo. Still they could hear him and that was enough for Tom Cotton to rush back to Bywater and fetch a rope and some sturdy hobbits to help him pull the young lad out.

Frodo couldn't believe his eyes, when he finally saw light again. He could see his parents and Farmer Cotton leaning over the well looking down to him. Tears glistened in his eyes, as he begged his mother to take him out of the well.

"Soon, my dear. Just a little patience now. Tom will soon be back with the rope," she soothed and yet she was on the point of sliding down the well herself, using the frayed rope to get to her poor, little baby, whose voice sounded so terribly fearful, it tore her heart.

Frodo looked about frantically. At the moment he could neither feel nor hear Her. "Hurry," he shouted with an anxious voice, "before she returns."

Primula could make nothing out of that but she kept on soothing him, while Drogo stood at her side, always looking back towards Bywater, hoping that Farmer Cotton would return swiftly.

~~~~~~

Quietly She waited in the dark, fearing the light. They had come, they had come too early. They should not be here for many months and yet they were. Her eyes rested upon the boy, Frodo was his name. They had come for him. They wanted to take him from Her. Wrath glowed in Her heart. She would not let them have him. He had come to Her, after so long a time. He was Hers and no one else's! And yet She had to wait, wait until the light was gone, for it pained her gravely. She had time left; She had still a little time left. A silent laugh escaped her invisible lips.

~~~~~~

Frodo looked about in despair. She was still here. Tears stung in his eyes as he looked up.

"Hurry," he whispered, feeling that time was getting precious.

Above him Farmer Cotton had returned and with him three more stout hobbit-fellows. Drogo volunteered to go down the well and quickly fastened the rope about his waist. One last time he kissed his wife before carefully sliding down the damp stonewall, while Tom and the other hobbits secured the rope from above.

Frodo's eyes glistened as he watched his father coming down to him. Soon he would be free again. Beside him there was a silent laughter. He turned around, his eyes open wide.

~~~~~~

She was getting fretful, as the other one came down. He would take him, Frodo, away from Her. But still She waited and when the light was finally gone, She crept out of Her hiding place sneaking around Frodo. He could feel Her, for he had started to tremble again.

"Hurry!" he cried out, his heart pounding fast.

She could feel his heartbeat, as She laid Her cold hand upon his breast.

Frodo…

"Hurry!"

Drogo looked back to see why his son suddenly was so desperate, but he saw nothing. Frodo was shivering all over, his eyes wide with fear. "Calm down, Frodo," he soothed. "I'll be with you soon."

Frodo looked up to him.

Frodo…

She laughed. Frodo lashed about in despair. Drogo again tried to calm his son, but he quickly realised that it didn't work. Haste was needed.

… with you…

"Leave me alone!" Frodo shouted crouching back in his bucket.

Her laughter close to his ears; shivers down his spine;

He sobbed, looking to his father again who was slowly coming closer.

"Take my hand!" Drogo suddenly ordered.

Frodo looked about frantically, standing up slowly and reaching for his father's hand.

She would not let him go. She would not let them have him. He was Hers, Hers!

MINE…

Her cold arm grabbed his wrist. Frodo cried out, toppled over. His father caught him just in time before he would have fallen into the water. Frodo lashed about in despair, always crying "No, no…!"

Drogo had difficulties in holding him.

"What's the matter down there?" Primula asked frightful.

"Pull!" Drogo shouted.

Tom Cotton and his friends pulled with all their strength and with desperate haste for Frodo sounded as if he was haunted by some terrible nightmare.

The last sunbeams pained his eyes as they slowly approached the opening. Frodo blinked, clinging to his father desperately, always fearing that She would grab for him again. His wrist hurt as if it had been held in a tight grip for a long time. As soon as they reached the top of the well, Primula picked her son from Drogo's hands. Trembling all over Frodo sank into his mother's arms, weeping bitterly. Primula was crying too, as she gently stroked his hair, soothing him, rocking him back and forth.

"Everything will be alright. No one will hurt you" she whispered, kissing his curls and hugging him tightly. "Everything will be alright.

It brought even more tears to her eyes when she recognised the bloody cut on his forehead, his pale face and the dark red, rings under his eyes. She pulled off her cloak, wrapping it around his freezing body, pulling him even closer. As she stroked his slender arms Frodo suddenly flinched. On his left wrist there were markings. Small red fingerprints, as if someone had grasped him tightly. Primula looked at her son worriedly, exchanging a quick, questioning glance with her husband.

~~~~~~

Had they not been too occupied with Frodo, the hobbits would have heard Her angry cry. She had grabbed him tightly but the other one had been too strong for Her. He had snatched Frodo away from Her deadly grasp. She glared up to the night bitterly. She knew he would never come back. But She would stay as She had always done, waiting, grieving for Her own loneliness and someday, someday a new child would come and then…

A scraping noise and then…. silence. The well had been closed again.

***

It was already late at night, when Frodo finally fell asleep. Primula had provided him lots of food and drink which Frodo gladly accepted. But although he must have been tired beyond belief, he didn't want to sleep. He was looking at her with his sad, fearful eyes, talking of whispers and telling her about Her, the girl that never sleeps.

Primula had soothed him, stroked his pale cheek, concealing the pain she felt when she looked into his red and swollen eyes, the pain that struck her, when she saw the dark rings under his eyelids.

She had fetched several blankets and wrapped them about her child. Then, sitting in front of the hearth she gathered him into her arms, rocking back and forth and humming a lullaby. Frodo suddenly tensed when she started singing but then he relaxed and soon his body went totally limp and his breathing grew slow and even.

Drogo, who was sitting beside her, gently stroked his son's dark curls . He had rings under his eyes too, for the signs of exhaustion were now slowly revealed.

"You remember the girl?" she suddenly asked.

Drogo nodded. "Frodo spoke of one too."

"It was the same well. It had been in October but they only found her in spring. It must have been terrible for her and her parents. I wonder if the poor thing had still been alive when she fell in."

Frodo turned in her lap, looking up at her. The fire cast ghastly shadows on his face. His eyes were glimmering as the fire flickered.

"She lived," he whispered. "She lived for seven days."

Primula looked at him in shock, her eyes falling upon his wrist where still small red fingerprints could be seen. She pulled him closer exchanging a worried glance with Drogo, wondering neither for the first nor for the last time that evening, what had happened to her son down in the well.

"Seven days," he whispered again and the fire crackled.

~~~~~~

~THE END~

Yes, that was it. Thanks to everyone who read this story and left a comment. It was actually my second try in scaring stories (though the first one including hobbits), and I'm glad it worked. Thanks again for following this story.