CHAPTER 11
Fatty began to have a bad feeling--he dare not go in search of his friend, as he could not leave the girls alone in the house. Something had to be wrong. He had not had a feeling like this in the pit of his stomach since the night those Black Riders had come to Crickhollow.
Suddenly, there was a loud noise near the front door, a thud, a commotion, and the sound as of many footsteps running away.
The girls gasped and clutched at one another.
Fatty grabbed a poker from the fireplace, and cautiously made his way to the front hall.
Suddenly there was an urgent rapping on the door. “Fatty, please, open up!” The voice was that of Milo Burrows, who lived in Frogmorton.
Fatty flung open the door to a horrifying sight.
Standing there with Milo was his older son Mosco; lying on the doorstep was a battered and bloody form, that it took Fatty a few moments to recognize as his dear Folco.
“We must get him inside quickly, Fatty. I’ve sent Moro for a healer.”
Fatty and Mosco gently took up Folco, and brought him in, to lay him carefully on the settee in the front room. Estella and Meli began to sob hysterically. “What--” Fatty’s voice croaked, and he tried again. “What happened?”
Milo shook his head. “It was some of Lotho’s Men, with Ted Sandyman. They surrounded him--there must have been half a dozen at least. They--they beat him until he went down; then they kicked him, and--and stepped on him.” Milo’s voice broke at the last words, and he sobbed in horror.
Mosco’s voice was tight with anger. “None of us could get near him. After they finished tormenting him, Sandyman had them pick him up and bring him here. He said ’Let’s leave a little present for his friend Fatty. That’ll teach’em to upset the Chief.’ They brought him and dumped him on your doorstep; we followed as best we could without being seen, and that’s when I sent Moro for the healer.”
Fatty knelt by his friend, tears running unchecked down his face. “Oh, Folco, what have they done to you?” Folco’s breathing was shallow, and his eyes were glazed. His face was a bloody pulp. His left arm hung at an unnatural angle, and his left hand was completely crushed. Both his legs seemed to be broken. Blood was coming from his mouth.
Just then, Moro came rushing in, accompanied by Lavender Bunce, the healer. She flung her satchel down and got on her knees to examine her patient. She turned to the sobbing Estella. “Go get me some hot water, immediately.” Estella and Melilot fled to the kitchen.
She began to examine him with competent hands, but after only a few moments, she sat back sadly, and shook her head.
“His broken ribs have pierced his lungs. He will never make it.”
“No!” Fatty cried out furiously, “you have to do something!”
But it was already too late. The young hobbit had breathed his last.
“No! Folco!”
Milo and his sons restrained the hysterical Fredegar. Lavender turned to the girls who had come in with the hot water. It was too late for poor Folco, but she had herbs she could mix to make a sleeping draught for Fredegar. “Someone needs to go for the lad’s parents.”
The Boffins lived at the other end of Budgeford. Moro nodded, and slipped out on the unpleasant errand.
Fatty knelt weeping on his friend’s broken body. He felt something hard in Folco’s jacket, and reached in to take it out--it was the flute, bloodstained but undamaged.
“I’m going to make them pay, Folco,” he whispered, “for you, they will pay.” *
Freddy swayed where he stood, his face stark white.
“Catch him,” cried Poppy, “he is about to swoon!”
Eradan was standing closest, and caught him.
Poppy went over to him, concern on her broad face. “Fredegar Bolger! Bend over, put your head down, and take some deep breaths.”
Freddy heard her voice as if from a far distance. It took him an instant to understand what her words meant; he slowly followed her instructions, breathing deeply. For a moment, he had been transported back to that horrible moment when he realized his dearest friend was torn from him forever, and that the blame belonged to Lotho Sackville-Baggins and Ted Sandyman.
For many months after that night, his life had been one long nightmare after another.
He had hoped to get revenge for his friend. Instead, he had ended up in the dark of the Lockholes, despair his only companion, and darkness his dwelling place. Even when he had been rescued, a pitiful remnant of his former self, he could only summon up a semblance of the joking half-wit he had long disguised himself as. But his words had no meaning to him.
The news of Lotho’s murder had felt like ashes in his mouth. All he could feel was cheated. He had sought to make Lotho suffer, but had not been able to do so, and now someone else had cheated him of his revenge. He was emaciated and sick, as well. After a long convalescence in Michel Delving, he had gone back to Brock Hall, and his parents and his sister, and he had barricaded himself into his room, with no interest in life.
It was not until much later, when Merry had come to him with news of the Men from the South, that he had begun to once more feel a bit of interest in his life. Meeting Legolas and Gimli had done a good deal for him, and reacquainting himself with Angelica Baggins had done even more. Still, thoughts of how Folco had died, and how he had failed to get any satisfaction from the malefactors continued to haunt him from time to time. But he comforted himself with the idea that Sandyman was still at large, and that someday he might make him pay.
And he had thought getting out of the Shire altogether for a while would help him to overcome his melancholy and get on with his life, as Folco most assuredly would have wanted him to do.
Now he was faced with *this*. Sandyman, too, had eluded him, and would never pay for what he had been responsible for.
Mosco, on realizing what they saw, felt his gorge rise. He very likely would have found himself retching away his breakfast, if the sudden worry about Freddy had not gained his attention. He and Gimli assisted Freddy to sit upon the ground, and Mistress Poppy took his pulse.
“It’s very rapid.” She looked up at Mosco. “I am surprised at his strong reaction! I certainly would not have thought him to be fond of that one.”
Her refusal to use his name was a reflection of the general consensus in the Shire about Ted Sandyman. He had never been officially condemned as he had escaped justice, but in the eyes of his fellow hobbits he might as well have been.
“I take it,” said Mellor, “that you know who this unfortunate hobbit is?”
Mosco nodded. Freddy was quite pale, his breathing shallow, and he was in no shape to speak. “It was Ted Sandyman. He was foremost among those hobbits who collaborated with Lotho during the Troubles. He stood by and watched, laughing,--” Mosco’s voice caught, as his own memories threatened to overwhelm him “--as Lotho’s Ruffians beat Folco Boffin to death. Folco was Freddy’s best friend.”
There were looks of sympathy from Mellor, Eradan and Targon, and one of understanding from Legolas and Gimli, who knew the whole story.
“I am sure,” said Mosco, “that this has brought it all back to him.” He put a protective arm around Freddy’s shoulders.
Mistress Poppy nodded. She had suspected as much. Her friend Lavender Bunce had attended Folco when he died, and had told her of Freddy’s hysteria when it happened. Satisfied that Freddy’s pulse and breathing were beginning to return to normal, she left him and walked over to the body. She looked at it dispassionately.
“I would say he has probably been dead at least since the turn of the year--our year, not yours--” she added to the Men, “probably right after Yule.” She squatted down next to the body, which was almost nothing but a skeleton. “He has any number of broken bones--all his ribs, both arms, both legs. I see no head injury to the skull,” she reached over, and took the edge of his tattered weskit, “but there are several cuts here and bloodstains on his clothing. However, there is no sign that he bled enough for any of the cuts to be mortal.” Drawing out a handkerchief, she shifted the body slightly. “As I thought. His spine appears to be broken as well.”
She stood up with a deep sigh. “I am sorry to say, that it appears he was tortured to death.” She did not think much of Sandyman, but this was a fate far worse than any decent hobbit would wish on anyone.
As she spoke, Freddy had been listening. Tortured to death, beaten to death--just like Folco. He *ought* to be glad, and he wondered at himself that he was not. And it wasn’t merely that he’d been cheated of his own revenge. This was appalling, appalling to hear and to think of. Folco had not deserved what happened to him--he was a good hobbit, with a large and kind heart, in spite of his loose tongue. But Ted Sandyman, who had been a rogue and a renegade--he had not really deserved this either.
No one did.
He finally began to understand Frodo. Frodo in his wisdom, had forbidden vengeance on the collaborating hobbits--justice, yes, banishment if deserved, but not vengeance. Frodo, he remembered Merry telling him, had even felt sorry for Gollum, and for Sharkey and Worm as well.
He still felt sick at heart; but he realized now that the reason he had never achieved his vengeance was that he knew deep down how wrong it was.
Mosco had risen, and gone over by Mistress Poppy. Many of the same thoughts were occurring to him as well.
“I am sure,” said Mellor, “that we can tell what happened. He escaped the Shire, and either travelled with or caught up to, some of his former confederates, and they turned on him, as their sort will do. They seem to have amused themselves in a very Orcish manner.”
“It was the King’s opinion,” said Targon, “that many of the Ruffians Saruman used to occupy the Shire, were in fact at least partially Orcs. I shudder to think how such a thing must have come to be.”
Legolas helped Freddy to his feet. “Let us go away from the sight of this sad thing,” he said. “We will need to decide what is to be done about it.”
Everyone else nodded. Mellor replaced the blanket on the mutilated body, and the group moved away, back to the small campsite.
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* From my story "For Folco" here on Stories of Arda at http://www.storiesofarda.com/chapterlistview.asp?SID=1935