Written for Queen Galadriel’s birthday. Bell muses on her children, her little troublemaker in particular!

My Little Miscreant

1382 SR
Halfred is 13, Sam is 2 (or 8 and 1 in Man years)

It’s different with every child, my ma told me that once when Hamson was born, but I didn’t fully ‘preciate that ‘til my other children started coming.

Hamson’s a good lad, reasonable, just like his daddy. He don’t question things much, ‘cept to ask “how much wood” or “where’re you wanting the mulch”, things of that nature. He does what he’s told and gives no guff or fuss ‘bout it. He can see when something needs doing and offers to help as he can, even if the job’s too big for him. He knows his boundaries and sticks to ‘em, won’t even think ‘bout crossing no lines, if he can even be finding the lines. We often joke as we should have stopped with him, the good son, the easy child. Lor’ knows we’d have much less grey hairs and worry lines for it!

Daisy and May are typical sisters, always at each other’s throat, fighting over what belongs to who and who’s got be doing which chores. They bicker over near everything but their eye color. Thankfully it’s not all the time and they’re sweet with each other too, Daisy brushing and braiding May’s hair each morning, making sure as she eats all her vegetables, tucking her into bed each night and jabbering with her ‘til she falls asleep. Daisy can be as gentle as a cloud when she’s a wanting to be, and hard as a windstorm when she’s a needing to be, and May just don’t understand that yet.

May, now, she’s going to be a tease with the lads, already is matter of fact. She gets ‘em near eating out of her hand every time we go into town. She won’t give the ladies no mind at all, but soon’s the fellows show up, she’s all smiles and blushes, giggling and batting her eyes. No surprise they all bring her a wildflower to be a wearing in her hair, so by the time we leave market, she’s got near enough to be a making a wreath out of. She loves every minute of it too and no mistake. We’ll be needing to keep a close eye on her when she starts nearing her tweens acause I can tell already she’ll be growing up faster’n most maid-children.

Sammy’s just a bairn yet, and he ain’t given no trouble so far. He’s got a dreamy air ‘bout him, yet he watches everything going on ‘round him with such attention, it’s a wonder. He sees more’n he lets on and I’d be willing to wager he knows more’n that even. He talks as well as any of the others did at his age, but he’s more for listening than jabbering, though once you get him going, you sometimes can’t get him to stop! He’s smart too, can even tell his colors and shapes already! He’s a special one, my Sam, and I can’t wait to see what he’s going to become once he’s grown up.

And then there’s Halfred.

Fred’s got a good heart and means well most of the time. He’d jump ‘tween a wolf and his siblings if he had to and wouldn’t think twice ‘bout it. He can charm the teeth off a dragon, as they say, and lor’ don’t he know it! He relies on that charm to get him out of trouble and more’n not it works. I cringe to think of what all he gets away with, all those little schemes of his that never reach my ears, acause the ones I do know ‘bout near embarrass me to death atimes.

Highday afternoons can bring all manner of folk knocking upon my door and I’ll be wishing for Sterday morning faster’n I can sneeze. Every time someone comes a calling, I don’t know what to expect – one of the lasses from down the row asking to play with Daisy or May, a neighbor stopping by for a friendly chat, or my little miscreant held at the hands of some poor put-upon body. It don’t happen every Highday or even every month, thank the stars, but it happens often enough my heart does a little pitter-patter every time someone knocks at the door.

One time it was Hank Goodheart, after having caught Fred for the second time pinching apples from his orchard. He forgave the first offense, seeing as the lad had been hungry (he’s always hungry though, eats like his stomach goes clear down to his toes) but he weren’t ‘bout to forgive the second offense. Fred had to spend a week helping Missus Goodheart make her sauces and ciders and juices and pies and whatnot, and he didn’t get a lick of any of it.

‘Nother time, it was Flora as showed up on the stoop. She’d found Fred digging dead worms out of her compost heaps, which wouldn’t have been bad at all ‘cept for why he was taking ‘em. Turns out, he’d been poking through his daddy’s weskit, which was hung up in the tool shed at Bag End as it was too hot to be a wearing it, and he’d found Ham’s betrothal cloth in it, that being the kerchief as I gave him at our wedding. Well, Fred had taken it out to look at it, looked away for a second, turned back ‘round to see a magpie making off with it. He’d been hoping to use the worms to get the kerchief back from the bird afore Ham could notice it was missing. We did manage to wrest it from the bird and I was able to wash it and mend it, but as I had no way of sneaking it back into Ham’s weskit, he found out ‘bout it soon’s he put it back on. Fred had been put to turning the compost heaps of everyone on the Hill for a week after that, and Ham didn’t talk to him ‘til his week was served, he was so angry.

‘Nother time, it was Nolan Bushmore away from Overhill. He’d found Fred peeping inside his house as his tween daughter was taking a bath. Ham and I talked ‘bout it and decided as it’d only be fair to be making Fred run down the Hill in naught but his skin. He was right shy ‘bout undressing in front of us, but he didn’t break down ‘til he got to the front door and saw as we were serious ‘bout making him go outside like that. He started bawling and pleading with us, promising to never do aught again, but we stood firm. ‘Til he turned the doorknob anyhow. Then we told him that was good enough and to go get dressed again, and to think better next time afore he goes a violating some lass’s privacy.

Soon after that, Mr. Griffo Boffin had brought him home on his trap. The lad had a bloody lip and a right nasty scratch across his cheek. Mr. Boffin had found him on the losing end of a wrestling match with two lads twice his size. Fred said he’d had to fight ‘em acause he lost a bet who could spit the farthest into a strong wind and he’d lost. I hunted down those lads’ mothers and they put their sons to mucking out stables for a week for their little trick. Then Ham and I had a good long talk with Fred ‘bout being careful what sorts of bets he makes from here on out. Most folk can be trusted, but there are those that need to be looked out for.

The worst time though had to be when Mr. Porto Baggins brought him home. He and Hamson were supposed to be helping Mr. Baggins clean out his cellar that Highday morning afore their afternoon off, but Fred had cleaned out the pantry instead. He’d eaten all the roast mutton, the bread, an entire wheel of expensive cheese, a jar of brambleberry sauce, and most of the apple pie. Like I said, he’s always hungry and his stomach got the better end of his senses after a few hours’ hard scrubbing. Mr. Porto, kind body that he is, just laughed ‘bout it all but I was mortified. Hamfast was near beside himself and he came near to whopping Fred afore I was able to calm him. Instead, Fred had lost all his Highday privileges for the rest of the season and Ham said naught to him that entire time but to bark orders at him.

He behaved himself a good long while after that but even good things don’t last forever. Next thing I know, little Twig, the barkeep at the Dragon, is a pounding on the door. Seems he’d caught Fred playing ‘healer’ with Chamomile Tuttle in one of the inn’s drawing rooms. There was naught for us to do but laugh at that one. Then Ham sent Fred down to follow Miss Camellia ‘round for a week to find out what it is a real healer be doing. He didn’t complete his week though. After he had to watch Miss Camellia reset a lad’s leg after he fell off a pony trap, Fred refused to go back there. Miss Camellia had to insist upon it also. “I don’t need him passing out over every little drop of blood,” she had said and there’s naught Ham could say to argue with her ‘bout it. You just don’t go arguing with a healer.

The worst part ‘bout all this though is that Fred’s nowhere near his tweens yet. He’s still got ‘nother seven years to go and if he’s this much of a handful now, he’ll be even worse when he comes to twenty. We’ll be lucky if we can find someone to ‘prentice him, at least not amongst any folk who live near enough to be a hearing what all he gets himself into. We might be able to find some relations as live up in the Northfarthing, but I hate to think of sending him so far away from home.

I’m just mulling over these very thoughts when a knock sounds on the door. I’m feeding Sammy at the moment, so I put his plate on the table and wipe his mouth afore going to the kitchen window to see who’s a calling. The swear words escape my mouth afore I can think what I’m saying.

“Uh-oh,” Sammy says from his highchair, whether at my cussing or acuase he guesses what I saw or both, I don't know.

“Shh,” I tell him as I wipe my hands on my apron and head for the hall. “And don’t go repeating.” But Sammy ain’t listening none. He’s already trying to figure out how to get hold of his plate from his highchair.

I take off my apron and hang it over one of the chairs, then straighten out my hair and go to the door. I open it up, a smile on my face to beat the sun, whilst my heart’s near beating out my chest. I gulp reflexive-like before greeting my unexpected guest. “Good day, Master Lotho.”

I dare a glance at Halfred. The poor lad’s eyes are brimming over with tears and his lip’s a quivering like it’s all he can do to keep his mouth shut and hold back the sobs. I hold my hand out to him and he gladly takes it. He steps into the smial and hides behind my skirts like he ain’t done in over a year. I feel him a trembling and put an arm ‘round his shoulders, soothing-like.

“How can I be helping you today, sir?” I ask, though it can’t be any plainer what’s the matter.

“Good day, Missus Gamgee,” Master Lotho starts. His hands are stuffed deep into his pockets and I realize they’ve been that way all along. He must’ve had Fred knock on the door then. “I caught your son destroying my mother’s lilac bushes.”

I gape at Master Lotho, not knowing what to think or say. Considering how ‘fraid Halfred is of Mistress Lobelia, I can’t imagine him doing such, but naught else explains Master Lotho being here.

I pull Fred out of my skirts and kneel down to look at him. “Is this true?” I ask him.

Fred starts to really cry now, bawling like he’s ‘bout to lose his best friend, and in the kitchen Sammy starts a crying also. “Tis all right, dear, just tell me what happened,” I say as soothing-like as I can. I know as hevd ne’er go off destroying Mistress Lobelia’s lilacs a’purpose, so there’s got be some explanation for what Master Lotho saw.

With great difficulty, Fred gulps out ‘tween sobs, “I – didn’t – mean to, Mama! The – Noakes’ dog was – chasing Misty – so I ran after ‘im – to stop ‘im!”

“Misty?” Master Lotho asks.

“Amelia’s cat,” I say and wonder if the Rumbles are realizing their cat’s gone a missing. “What happened then, Fred?”

“The dog chased Misty – into a yard – I didn’t realize who’s – and Misty hid ‘neath the lilacs – and I got the dog to go away – but then the cat wouldn’t come out – so I had to try and – and – get to her to see if – she were – hurt – but that’s when – when – when Master Lotho found me!” Fred finally gets his story out.

I nod, trying to think ‘tween his sobbing and Sammy’s confused fussing. I pull a kerchief from my dress pocket and wipe Fred’s face, then peck him on the cheek so he knows I’m not mad. Then I turn him toward the kitchen. “Go feed your brother whilst I speak with Master Lotho,” I say and wait ‘til Fred’s in the kitchen afore I turn back to Master Lotho.

Master Lotho is looking at me like he can’t fathom what I’d just done. I can’t decide if he figured as I’d punish my son right away after a hearing his tale, or if Master Lotho simply can’t understand a mother’s caring. His own ma ain’t exactly the warm-hearted type and I feel right sorry for Master Lotho as I see the confusion and loneliness play across his face. Then I blink and he’s back to his usual passive self, watching me with an expression I can’t even begin to guess at.

“I’m right sorry ‘bout this, Master Lotho,” I say. “Fred didn’t mean no harm, he was just trying to help poor Misty. ‘Course, that don’t go a changing that damage was done. I’ll come down and apologize to your ma right away, soon as Fred’s calmed enough to be watching his brother alone.” I don’t say aught ‘bout punishing Fred, as I’ve no intention to be doing such. He’s been punished enough from what I can see, and him just trying to do right.

“There’s no need for that, Missus Gamgee,” Master Lotho says, surprising me. “Mother and Father are off to Frogmorton for a couple of weeks. They're not here. No one saw what happened except me.”

“They left you all alone?” I ask afore I can think better of it.

“I am eighteen,” he says, as though this is s’posed to prove he’s old enough to be taking care of himself for two whole weeks.

“Of course you are, sir,” I agree, just as Halfred finally manages to get Sammy to stop a crying. The smial is filled with blissful peace, at least for a little while.

“Don’t worry about the lilacs,” Lotho says. “He didn’t really damage them much. I doubt my mother will even notice once the broken stems are trimmed off. If she does, I’ll tell her the truth – a cat did it. She won’t do anything to a cat.” The implication of course being that she would do something to my son.

“Thank you, Master Lotho,” I say with relief and gratitude as he starts a backing away from the door. On impulse I add, “If you’re wanting a meal and company to go with it, you’re welcome here whilst your parents are away.”

Master Lotho pauses, his eyes widening. He hadn’t expected to hear such, and I can’t blame him. The lad’s usually in the company of his mother or father whenever he’s out and ‘bout in town, so most folk don’t so much as glance his way, much less talk kindly to him. That ain’t a fair thing to be doing to the lad though, and I intend to see to it that he always feels welcome in my home from here on out.

“Thank you, Missus Gamgee,” Lotho says with a small bow, “but I’ll be dining with Aunt Dora tonight.”

I wait ‘til he’s out of sight down the Hill, then close the door and go back into the kitchen. Fred’s a feeding Sammy like I asked him, but soon’s I enter he stops to look at me, the fear still plain in his eyes.

“Am I in trouble, Mama?” he asks.

“No, Fred, you’re not in trouble,” I say and bend down to place a kiss to the top of his head. “But let’s just keep this ‘tween you and me. If your daddy finds out, he’ll just hit the roof.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Halfred agrees and lets out a big sigh, like he ain’t taken a proper breath since Master Lotho caught him under the lilac bushes.

I turn to Sammy, who’s watching us both closely. “Understand, Sammy? Just ‘tween us,” I say again.

“He’s just a bairn, Ma,” Halfred says but Sammy giggles and smiles afore slamming his hand on the highchair table, demanding more food, so I know he understands just fine.

I take the now-empty plate from Fred and start refilling it with mash. “Go wash up, Halfred, then come back here and help me with dinner.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Fred says. He gets up and hugs me tight ‘round the legs afore going outside to the well to wash up. I hug my little miscreant back and laugh as he skips out the kitchen. I wonder who will be bringing him back next time.

GF 8/26/07