Chapter 8 – Grim Discoveries

The next day started much the same as the one before, except that Edon left Mauville an hour before first breakfast, skipping his chores so he could reach Brandy Hall with plenty of time to spare. He thought it best to err on the side of caution and take Mistress Goodbody literally. He didn’t want to keep Mistress Esmeralda waiting any longer than she needed to.

He entered the Hall through the West Door, which put him quite out of his depth. He had never entered through that door before and he found himself more than a bit disoriented. As fortune would have it, Esmeralda had sent a servant to wait for him, and as soon as he entered through the door, the servant beckoned him to follow. They went a short way down the first left-hand tunnel to the sitting room.

The servant allowed Edon to straighten his hair and clothes before knocking and announcing his arrival. At Esmeralda’s call, the servant opened the door and ushered Edon inside before leaving quickly, closing the door again. Edon was left alone, standing just inside the doorway and looking upon a scene that immediately filled him with dread.

Whatever Edon had expected, it had not been to see Gil slumped into a chair and the Mistress sitting across from him, a tray of cut fruit, cheese and bread laid upon the tea table, a pitcher of cold milk dripping condensation onto the wood.

Edon looked between Gil and Esmeralda. “You wanted to see me, Mistress?” he asked uncertainly, fervently hoping she had made a mistake.

Esme nodded. “Yes, sit down, lad,” she said sternly, indicating the chair directly next to Gil’s.

Reluctantly, Edon did as he was bade, avoiding eye contact with Gil, who wasn’t looking at him anyway.

“Have some food if you like,” Esme offered and both lads reached to fill the plates set before them. They were growing lads after all and so were always hungry, and any way they could delay the purpose of this visit was welcome. Unfortunately, they were too hungry and the food was gone before they knew it.

“Now,” Esme said once they were done, “I am sure you are both wondering why I’ve called you here.” They nodded. “The reason is very simple: from what I've been able to gather, you were both present when Frodo disappeared. You both are also the ones responsible for Frodo’s unease the day prior to that. I believe both incidences are connected somehow, and you’re going to tell me how.”

Edon and Gil shot quick and untrusting glances at each other. This was going to be a long morning.

Somehow, they managed to get through the inquisition without too much bickering, mostly because Esmeralda would have nothing to do with it. She made it clear that if either lad did anything to provoke the other, they would both be punished adequately. They kept their toes in line and answered her questions, disagreeing very little, and by the time they were done, Esme was fuming.

“I will repeat myself to you Edon, the same thing I told Gil: either you lads work out whatever it is that has come between you, or you keep away from each other from here on out. If I hear of you putting Frodo between you two again, the Master will have your hides, if there's anything left of them once I'm through, that is,” she said.

Edon nodded mutely. Gil looked down at his hands.

“You are both dismissed now.”

Edon readied to stand, eager to leave the room, but Gil did not budge. He remained where he was and looked at the Mistress with growing alarm and concern, his brow knitted in deep thought. “You don’t think Frodo might gone into the Old Forest, do you?” he asked.

Edon froze where he was, unable to believe his ears. He shot Gil a suspicious look, wondering just how he had come to this conclusion and if Fendi and Morti might have said something to him over the night. Edon ignored the fact, but he knew his friends still spoke with their cousin when he wasn't about.

Mistress Esmeralda was equally as shocked by this notion. “Impossible,” she said. “The bounder would have seen him approaching.”

Gil shook his head. “No, he wouldn’t have. He had left the gate, to keep me from getting any closer. It was around that time when Frodo went missing, or least, that was the last moment Edon can account for his location.”

“You said Frodo was too afraid to enter the forest,” Edon pointed out, silently fuming that Gil had suggested this possibility before he had.

“Exactly, and Frodo’s not one to back down from a challenge,” Gil said, dread in his voice. “It wouldn’t hurt to have the borders of the forest checked for fresh trails. The bounders are there anyhow.”

Esme nodded. “I suppose it wouldn’t,” she said uncertainly, nervously twisting the handkerchief she held in her lap. “If he has done such a foolish thing, then you both are in more trouble than you could possibly imagine.”

Gil nodded while Edon sat numbly in his chair. Edon felt this conversation could not get more fantastical, until Gil spoke again. “It is largely my fault, Cousin. Edon may have taken Frodo to the Gate, but Frodo wouldn’t have entered, if that is indeed what he’s done, if I hadn’t opened my big mouth. Edon’s part in this was circumstantial.”

“That doesn’t make him any less a guilty party,” Esme said. “I will send a Quick Post to my husband, and you both better hope that he finds nothing.” She stood then herself and left in a hurry.

Edon and Gil stood shortly after Esme left, and they too exited the room. Not until they were  out in the tunnel and a good distance from the sitting room did Edon find his voice again. He turned to Gil, more than a little displeased. “Good going, Gil.”

“What do you mean? I thought you’d want to be let off the hook for this,” Gil pointed out.

“That’s not what I meant,” Edon said. “You were supposed to apologize to Frodo, not tell her about what happened.”

“I had to tell her about it. You saw to that.”

“I wouldn’t have told her anything.”

Gil huffed in frustration and breathed deeply. He waited several moments before continuing in a much calmer tone. “She could have found out from someone else. Frodo might have eventually told her. So, yes, I had to tell her. What would it look like if I hadn’t? Like I was keeping something from her, that’s what. I can’t afford for that to happen. Some people still don’t trust me.”

“It’s not my fault if they don’t trust you,” Edon shot back.

“Look, I don’t know how things are run in Branbourne*,” Gil said, his voice still calm if tight, “but your family is enjoying a very comfortable position here in Buckland. You’ll be expected to step up and show yourself to be a leader before long, so you better get into practice. I was out of line for what I said and I am more than willing to pay my dues for it, and you need to do likewise, whether Esme decides to place blame on you for this or not. Either step up to the line or get back to the flats.”

“I would have spoken if you hadn’t beaten me to it,” Edon said. “Did Fendi and Morti tell you about what we spoke of last night?”

“No,” Gil said, confused. “They don’t talk to me, other than to bestow a snide remark or two at me on your behalf. And it looked to me as though you were getting ready to leave before I spoke up, so just when exactly were you planning to take action?”

“I know what you’re doing,” Edon said, not about to back down. “You’re trying to make yourself appear the noble one again. Well, I was the one who took Frodo there and I was the one that lost him. I can admit to that and I have.”

Gil eyed the younger tween for a moment, his eyes squinted in the shadows of the tunnel. Finally, he smirked sadly and said, “You know what I think? I think you actually want this to be your fault. You want the blame for this. Would that help clear your conscience if everyone were to blame you? I’m sorry to say this, my friend, but you don’t get that luxury. I will take the burden for this on my own account, not yours.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means. Or have you forgotten already?”

“You are the one who betrayed me,” Edon said, his voice shaking with suppressed rage. “You know what I think? I think that you think taking the blame for this will repair the damage done by last year’s folly. You think that if you take the blame, others will be less quick to hang you out to dry. Folk still don’t trust you, as you said. Is this your twisted way of regaining their favor?”

Gil shook his head, at a loss of words. Finally, he swallowed thickly and said, “I’m not doing this. I’m not fighting with you over this again. It’s over.” He turned and started to walk away, but Edon was not yet finished.

“If you fell, it was your own doing, but it certainly hasn’t hurt you either way,” Edon said. “Look at you, still the Hall’s Golden Child. You came back from Pincup and everything was just roses and daisies for you, like it always was. You speak of hardship, but what are a few mistrusting townsfolk compared to all of Brandy Hall eating out of your hand? You have everything you ever wanted, even those as don’t belong to you.”

“Are you still talking about Fuchsia?” Gil asked. He looked at Edon with something akin to pity and shook his head. “Don’t you see? You never stood a chance with her, not before and certainly not now. She was kind to you and nothing more because she saw you as charity. Now she can’t even stand to be near you.”

“That’s a lie,” Edon said quietly, a near whisper.

“When have I ever lied to you?”

Edon gave no answer.

“Ask her yourself then if you must,” Gil said, “but she isn’t the issue here and you know it. You continue to overlook your part in this. I held my tongue before, mostly because I had no other choice, but you’re on your own now. Look out for your own back; that is, after all, what you’re best at.”

Edon watched as Gil walked away to the dining hall, then sought out his friends and told them of what had happened with the Mistress and all that Gil had said to him afterward. He especially wanted their opinion on what Gil had said about Fuchsia. Fendi and Morti glanced uncomfortably at each other, discussing with their eyes who would be the one to break the news to him.

Finally, Fendi answered. “It is true, I’m afraid. That’s just how Fuchsia is, always looking after. And she did rather take Gil’s side in all of this, obviously.”

“Just like the rest of our group. There wasn’t even a side to take,” Edon said, his feelings of bitterness and jealousy stronger than they’ve ever been. Fuchsia had never cared for him, he had merely been a project for her. He had never felt so degraded. “I guess she and Gil are perfect for each other after all.”

“I’m sorry, my friend,” Morti said. “Look, let’s get food. Things always look better on a full stomach.”

Edon smiled despite himself. “Very well. Only since you insist.”  

At that precise moment, the bounders opened the Gate and the gardeners waited for the all clear. Saradoc was there with them this time, Mac opting to stay near the River and check on the progress of things there.

When Sara had arrived the previous night, he had scanned the field just before the Gate. As he had suspected, it was impossible to pick out any one single footprint. The place had been trampled over numerous times since Frodo’s disappearance. He had entered through the Gate and had gone about snuffing out the torches as he made his way slowly north to the Bridge Gate. The gardeners had completed their work in good time and had been waiting on the carts for Sara’s approval. He had arrived and given them a nod, and they had all returned to the Hall by the East Road and Bucklebury Lane.

Come morning, they were through the Hay Gate yet again, to begin work on the larger southern portion of the Hedge. Saradas would be recruiting more gardeners to join them at noon on Merimac’s request, but for now, the two dozen gardeners sat sharpening their shears and waiting on the bounders.

Hob and Flynn walked the line closest to the forest, pounding the torches into the ground to cover the area the gardeners would be working today. Several torches were already in place, but many more had to planted and one of the bonfires moved. The remaining bounders and Saradoc took over this task, leaving Hob and Flynn to pound the long wooden sticks into the ground. They went a mile down the line, and on their way back, they fueled the torch rags and lit them.

Most of the work done and the forest standing silent the whole while, a bounder went down the tunnel to let the gardeners in and about their work. Sara and the other bounders were helping the gardeners carry in their tools when Hob lit the final torch, now the first in the line where it had once been the last. He watched the flame take life, then stood back to peer into the darkness of the forest.

He had always regarded the forest with fearful awe, much the same as everyone else, but after two days of standing along its border, he was beginning to think all the rumors about it were false. There was nothing more in there than trees and bushes so far as he could tell. He stepped around the torch and approached the forest to inspect it more closely, still keeping a good distance away, just in case. There was no point in throwing caution to the wind after all.

He gazed up at the silent sentinels, up their gnarled and twisted boles, the bark rough and cracked, peeling off in some places. He looked up at the teardrop leaves and the numerous branches and twigs, the arms and fingers of the trees. He looked down at the roots, thick and weaving in and out of the ground, just as fish will leap out of the River at times. He looked at the bushes, no different than any other he’s ever seen and… What was that?

Hob squinted at an unusual clump beneath one bush, a clump that flickered ominously in the firelight, shadowed as it was by the bush and the forest beyond. He crept forward, until he was mere feet away from the thing and squatted down to inspect it closer. Covered in a thin layer of dirt and many leaves it was, but there was no mistaking it: fabric, rich and fine.

Curious, he dared to cross the remaining distance and reached down and under the shrub. He pulled out the soft, supple material and shook off the grime and leaves. He held it up and spread it out to discover that it was actually a small waistcoat as a young lad would wear, well-made and of good quality. Confused, he scratched his head, wondering how such an item could have made its way here.

“Hob! Get away from there!” Saradoc suddenly called behind him. He had turned from helping the gardeners with their tools to find the bounder standing stooped near the forest’s edge. He walked over to the bounder now. “What has come over you?”

Hob turned around and nodded his head apologetically. “I’m sorry, Mr. Sara, but I found this here and was just puzzling over it is all.”

“Found what?” Sara asked. The bounder walked over to meet him halfway and handed him the waistcoat with shaking hands.

Saradoc looked down at the waistcoat in the flickering torchlight and the bright morning sky, and his blood ran cold. He groaned softly. “Where did you find this?”

“Just there,” Hob said and pointed. “Must have been there a while.”

“Are you certain? It looks fairly clean to me,” Sara said.

“Mr. Sara? Don’t take on so, sir,” Hob said with alarm, noticing the blanched color of the master’s face. “It had to have been there for quite a while now. No other explanation for it, as far as I can see. It was covered up too, it was, by all sorts of debris.”

“But not so much that you didn’t see it,” Sara stated hollowly. He shook his head, staring down at the waistcoat as though it were a phantom. “This is Frodo’s weskit.” Sara inspected the clothe more closely, until he was certain he was correct. “He was wearing this the morning he disappeared. He did get through the Gate.”

“But that’s impossible. I’ve checked with the bounders, sir, and so did Mr. Mac. No one got through the Gate, on my word. Flynn’s the sharpest I got and he was minding it that day, he was,” Hob said.

“And he left it,” Sara said, not with accusation but with dread, clutching the waistcoat to his chest, his heart pattering with fear. “He left it and no one was watching the Gate. Frodo saw his chance and he took it.” He clutched the waistcoat tighter still and brought it to his face, staring hard at the fabric, his expression now grim and tinged with anger. “Damn that lad!”

“Now, Mr. Sara,” Hob continued, trying to talk sense. “That child would have been in and out of that Forest so fast. He’d not have stayed in there this whole time, I reckon.”

“But this is Frodo’s. I would know it anywhere. His mother made this for him special for her last birthday,” Sara stated. “He wouldn’t just cast this aside.”

The master and bounder looked at each other, then beyond the torch line and toward the dark and ominous forest. The sun was beginning to rise over the trees, bathing all but the forest with its soft, bright light. Inside the forest, all was dimmed and shadowed, and further in toward its heart it remained always pitch black.

“Very well,” Sara said, as if he had been discussing something with Hob. He took a deep breath and fought for calm and clarity. “This is what we’ll do. I’ll go back to the Hall and gather some searchers to come back with me and enter the Forest. See if the bounders can find a trail while I am gone, but do not let them go in so far that you cannot see them. Keep the gardeners working, don’t tell them anything and make sure your bounders keep quiet, at least until I return. We don’t need a panic here.”

“Yes, sir, right away, sir,” Hob said, doing nothing but panicking. Order his fellows to enter the Forest? Without causing alarm?

“I’ll be back as soon as may be,” Saradoc promised, then quickly walked through the tunnel and back into Buckland. He unhitched a pony from its cart – the driver was still helping the gardeners – and mounted the beast effortlessly. He nicked and prodded the animal gently and was soon quickly making his way to Crickhollow Road.  

The dining hall was filled with happily eating hobbits, more than usual for second breakfast,  when Saradoc slipped through the doors and made his way to the head table, the post messenger that had been sent out to find him just minutes before now trailing behind him.

Rory was in deep conversation with his brothers, Dodinas and Dinodas, while Gilda coddled a complacent Merry. Esmeralda was watching her mother-in-law from the corner of her eye, ready for any sign that the matriarch might be ready to give her son back, and spent the meanwhile speaking earnestly with Berylla, who had Berilac bouncing on her lap. Merimac was at a nearby table, speaking with Rufus, Asphodel and Amaranth, and Milo was simply eating anything that came in his path while he reread a letter from Peony.

Sara stopped before the table and quickly requested his family’s attention. Esme immediately noticed the waistcoat he held and smiled joyfully. “You found him; he’s back,” she said but her relief was short-lived. Sara was looking at them grimly and his grip on the waistcoat was knuckle-white. "He didn't," she whispered.

Sara nodded. “He did. Hob found this on the border of the Old Forest,” he said. “Frodo must be in there, that’s the only explanation. We need searchers to be sent in.”

“The Old Forest!” the ladies exclaimed, and Berilac yelped as his mother squeezed him hard in her shock.

“Are you certain?” Esme asked, her voice faint.

Sara nodded. “I am.”

“But, that means he’s been in there for nearly three days!” Esme exclaimed.

“So we best get to it,” Rory announced. “There’s no time to lose.” Rorimac stood and clanked his glass with his fork until all eyes and ears were on him. He made short work of the announcement, cutting straight to the point, and requested volunteers to go into the Forest and help with the search.

Finding help was not an easy task. Even with the request coming directly from the Master, no one was eager to volunteer for the job. The Forest was feared by all, even in the morning’s reassuring light. There was much buzzing and discussing, but no one stood to offer their services.

In the end, only a handful of relations offered assistance: Merimac, Dodi and Dino, Marmadas, and Rufus and Milo. Saradas offered to assist but was bid to remain behind to mind the Hall in the Master’s absence; Seredic went in his father’s stead. They left the dining hall immediately to prepare for the trek to the forest and gather what supplies they might need.

“We’ll find him, Esme,” Rory assured and gripped his daughter-in-law’s shoulder firmly, trying to hide his own fears and doubts. “Most likely, he did not go far in and is merely lost, or might even be caught up in a bramble.”

Fendi and Morti had just sat to their food, with Edon between them, when the announcement was made. The friends shot each other panicked glances, but said nothing and tried not to feel guilty, to little avail. Mixed with their guilt was a sense of admiration for the little scamp. That Frodo had not only went into the Forest, but had got in unseen and had remained there this long was something unheard of, yet this too caused concern. There’s only one reason that they could think of for someone not leaving the forest, and it was not a happy thought. Their guilt doubled again and they distracted themselves with pushing the food around their plates, and Edon wondered vaguely how Sed would react to the news once it reached their homestead.

Gil made no outward reaction to the news, but inside he was in turmoil. Those daring blue eyes from the previous day and the cautious ones from the other morning came back to plague him mercilessly. He should have apologized when he had the chance, and all this could have been prevented. Now Frodo was likely trapped in the forest, and he would be lucky to emerge with his life.

Fuchsia frowned down at her plum pudding when Rory made his announcement, then looked over at Gil, who sat stone still, his expression unreadable. She returned to her food, picking at it distractedly, and missed when Gil turned and whispered to his father. She missed the earnest discussion that passed between them and did not see when Gil rose from his seat and swiftly left the hall.
 
 
 

To be continued…
 
 

* - There are many towns and settlements that were not plotted on the Shire map, and the Northfarthing appears especially sparse because of this. Branbourne is of my own invention, and I place it in the Northfarthing, about 20 miles north-northeast of Oatbarton.