Contention

Point #1

Ah, such a summer day, warm and fragrant, empty and meaningless. All of Strongwill Bunce’s senses were as lifeless as his eyes and his head was down. Even his enormous dog, Huan, was listless as the two stumped down the road. Will invariably acknowledged passersby with some mumbled courtesy, but no one and nothing could dissuade him from his task. His steps never slowed once. Best to get it over with.

Will had not visited Elanor since she had arrived in the Buckland with her family for their yearly summer visit and he couldn’t put it off any longer. Had it really been a year since they had lost Pug? Will remembered the letter his cousin had left them. Ardal Brandybuck, Pug’s best friend, had kindly read it to Will as often as he had wished and he had memorized it.

… you shall all look for my coming but I shall never grace the long Road again. There will be an empty place at the dinner table. A missing note from a song. A few bricks short of a load. And Ardal will raid my underwear drawer, the sick bastard, and all of you will fall on my things like a flock of vultures, I just know it.

I don’t care. Take my things. Fight over them. Enjoy them. Remember me. Remember the fun we all had. Remember the money you loaned me because you’re never getting it back now! HAH!

Goodbye, my Elanor. I loved you at first sight, I love you now and I will love you forever. I promise I will watch over you. Especially when you’re in the bath.

Goodbye, Strongwill. I’m pretty damn fond of you, too. Be sure to feed the dog. Don’t feed him any ham, it makes him fart something awful…

Typical Pug. Will shook his head and thought about the irony of life. For instance, how he, a blind Hobbit, not even out of his tweens, who had never so much as fired an arrow, could replace Pug as the Top Hunter of the Buckland was absolutely beyond him. Well, there was a great deal of organizational duties involved with the job; scheduling the hunts, maintaining the expenses of the Cabin and making sure everyone stayed in line. Issues the others, though they had eyes like eagles, were ill-equipped to bother with, so Will had taken them over. He had thrown himself into the work, excelled, and Master Meriadoc had made his position official. Oh, Pug would have laughed and laughed.

Pug. Another irony. He'd loved life so much. He'd loved his profession, his friends, his family and, oh, he'd loved Elanor. He'd worshipped her, but none of it had kept him from throwing it all away. Worse, the impetuous Goodwill had planned it coldly and carefully over the course of months. His enemy? Not a wild boar or a wolf or even a giant Mirkwood spider. Irony of ironies, the former Top Hunter had sacrificed his life to destroy a tree. Old Man Willow would never take innocent lives again.

That had been a year ago but the pain would not, not, not stop. Will sighed and Huan gave him a comforting nudge that nearly knocked him over. He reached up and scratched the big dog’s shoulder. “Good boy, Huan.”

The sudden wailing and screeching of a popular dance tune filled the air and the two stopped in horror at the sound of the wrecked music. Will realized he'd finally arrived at Rowan Row, the guest smials of Brandy Hall. He heard a door slam and young laughter filled the warm summer air. The hideous playing stopped and a familiar voice snapped “Del! Where are you taking the babies?” Ah, yes, Rose-lass Gardner, Elanor’s sister. As if he weren’t miserable enough. He found the strength to continue walking. There was a row of low plum trees lining the road and they hid his approach as he listened keenly. “Del? I asked you where are you going?”

“I’m going to set Master Merry’s hair on fire and Robin and Tom are helping me. And they’re not babies, right?”

“Right!” The two little boys proclaimed. Will smiled.

Rose-lass was not pleased. “Very funny. I told you to pick plums!”

“I could have sworn Mistress Rose told you to do that.” Del answered with a laughing contempt in her voice. The children snickered at their sister.

“I have to practice my music!”

“Is that what it’s called?” Del asked. “Don’t worry, Rose-lass, the plums will be waiting for you when you’re through. Let’s go, my minions!” With a shout the three were away and their giggles receded into the distance.

“Ellie, I can’t stand her! She never listens to me!” Rose-lass shouted.

“You mean she never gives in to you,” answered Elanor’s lovely voice and, despite the circumstances, Will felt glad to hear it again. He could tell they were facing away from him. He and Huan quietly walked closer.

“Just because everyone’s impressed with her ‘tragic and colorful’ life doesn’t mean she can just mock me and run about doing what she pleases…”

“Rose, practice your music.” Elanor sighed.

“This thing has no tone.” Rose-lass complained and Will heard the instrument hit the grass with a thonk! He winced at the abuse. “Violins lose their tone if they haven’t been played in a long time and this one had been put away for decades before Uncle Frodo gave it to me. It’s ruined!”

“Let me try it.” Will said and enjoyed their surprised exclamations and the rustle of the grass as they turned around.

“Will!” He practically felt the ground shake as Elanor ran forward. Strong arms were thrown around him and cut off his breath. He hugged her back fiercely and laid his cheek on top of her head. “I’m so glad to see you. Buckland’s not the same and… I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” He kissed the top of her head and stepped back before he fell apart. “You’re still horribly skinny. Don’t they have food in Hobbiton?” he complained and poked at her arms and shoulders with faux disgust. Elanor laughed at their old joke. Huan happily snuffled at her and she stretched up to hug him, too.

“As if anyone cares how thin she is.” Rose-lass muttered.

“Ah, my darling sugar, how I’ve missed your cheery disposition,” Will said with an over-obvious lack of joy. Rose began to sputter and Elanor cleared her throat. Will relented.

“Give me the violin,” he commanded and held out his hands, palms up. Rose-lass huffed with disdain, picked up the violin and the bow from the grass and passed them over. Will ran his fingers along the smooth, warm wood and flicked his thumb along the strings. Oh, it was a fine and well crafted work of art but it had been such a long time since he had made any music. He had smashed his own fiddle after he had played it at Pug’s funeral. The hole in Will’s heart opened up just so much wider and he strummed a simple chord. It was in tune. Rose-lass knew how to do that much at least.

He took a step back and steeled himself as he settled the instrument under his chin. Without thinking, he brought the bow down with just the gentlest touch on the strings. The lullaby was simple and pure, and its sound reached out, more beautiful than the voice of any elf, drawing them into a melody, into a dream, into a gentle paradise of music. Too late, Will realized what he was playing. This was the lullaby he, Pug and Elanor had spent a tipsy afternoon inventing naughty new lyrics for and his sudden pain lent a melancholy to the notes that would have made a stone troll weep.

The last note faded away and Will’s arm dropped. The silence hurt worse than the song.

"Oh." Elanor caught him by the back of the neck and pulled him down. She kissed his cheek. "Thank you so much. Wait here, I'll bring us all something to eat." She stepped back then, and whispered, "I'm too skinny, I know. I need to eat…" He heard her quick steps, then the door of the smial opened and closed. Dimly her sobs sounded on the other side.

“There she goes yet again. We shouldn’t have come back this year.” Rose-lass said. Will sucked in his breath, infuriated by her dismissive choice of words. He felt a tug on the violin and tightened his grip. “Well, give it back!” Rose snapped.

“So you can pitch it to the ground again?” Will snarled and jerked it away from her. The grief and anger in him became too much and he lashed out at the only person available. “You don’t deserve an instrument as fine as this. You can’t play it.”

“That’s not my fault, you…!”

"You!" Will jabbed her with the bow. “You make me sick. It’s never your fault, is it?”

“You filthy pig. It’s not my fault!”

“That’s right, beast.” With all the noise she was making it was easy to find her. He reached out and seized her collar. She gasped. “It’s Elanor’s fault you can’t stand your looks. It’s Del’s fault your past isn’t as exciting as hers.” He brought her closer. “It’s the violin’s fault you can’t play!” He felt the sharp pain of a blow to his face and pushed her away from him. Huan whined, distressed. “As long as I’ve known you you’ve been determined to be nothing! You are nothing! And this violin is coming with me. You don’t deserve it, you don’t deserve anything. ”

"Give it back!"

The bow whistled through the air and Rose-lass ducked just in time. “Huan!” The dog moved in close. “We’re going home.” Huan gave a strange sort of yip. “Give my regrets to Elanor.” Will shot over his shoulder and stormed away.

Point #2

Buckland’s six hunters sat on their cabin’s front porch the next morning and waited for the inevitable. Rose-lass’ violin lay prominently situated on a stool next to Will’s horsehide rocking chair and Will drummed his fingers on his leg. He hadn’t played it since the day before, despite a surprisingly strong temptation to run through his repertoire. It had been so long since he had given up his music and this fiddle was so fine. He mustn’t get attached to it, he must not covet it, he must not.

“Well, of course, her Dad's going to beat him. That’s his job as a father.” Theovald said, reasonably enough.

“Her Dad’s the Mayor of the Shire. He’s too important to deal with this.” Theodore countered. If the twin Brandybucks ever stopped arguing with each other, Will decided, they would surely drop down dead.

"He's not too important to avenge an insult, I say," Buttercup pointed out. A cousin of Will's and a new addition to the ranks, Buttercup Bunce was the archery champion of the East Farthing, and could shoot a deer in the eye at a great distance. Still, she preferred to crochet in her spare time, and the scratching sound of her rough, wool yarn was now annoying Will. Everything was annoying him.

“Actually, Rose Junior is a guest here and, as her host, it’s up to Master Meriadoc to avenge her insult,” Toro Brandybuck said. He was another new addition and the best trapper anyone had ever seen. He could also read and was constantly haunting Brandy Hall’s library. “Which is lucky for you, Will, ‘cause one swat from that big fist and it’ll all be over. Nice and fast. No drawn out pain for you, y’know.”

“It won’t be Master Merry. He had a problem with his fireplace yesterday and he doesn’t want to be seen in public until his hair grows back a bit.” Ardal Brandybuck, the twins’ older brother, informed them all. Will smiled but said nothing. Ardal continued, “I say it’s going to be one of her brothers, probably Frodo-lad.”

“We’re forgetting the Mistress Rose.” Buttercup said. Toro made a rude sound. “You be quiet. She’s quite fierce, I understand. I wouldn’t want to cross her.”

“Don’t any of you have anything better to do?” Will asked. There was a chorus of amused No’s and This we gotta see’s and he groaned in irritation and brought his hat down to completely cover his face.

Ardal laughed outright. “Who else are we forgetting? Master Peregrin! And young masters Borry and Farry …”

“And me,” said a haunted voice. Toro gasped. Buttercup dropped her bone-crochet hook. Will heard it break as it hit the boards. The very air was suddenly too thick to breathe. Every last drop of Will’s blood ceased its circulation and, well, hid. What a horrible sensation. He slowly set his hat straight and sat up.

“No one ever takes me into account,” the soft voice continued sadly. “It’s most depressing.”

“M… Muh… Master Frodo! Good morning.” Ardal stammered.

“Good morning.” Frodo Baggins replied, ever so politely, and climbed the porch steps. Ardal’s greeting was breathlessly repeated by Toro, Buttercup and the Twins. Master Frodo pleasantly hailed them as well. “I’m sorry about your hook, Miss Bunce, I’ll be sure to replace it.” Buttercup assured him it was unnecessary but Master Frodo wouldn’t hear of it.

There was some nervous chit-chat among all of them about their families health and the fine weather and, my goodness, will Huan never stop growing? Will wanted to scream. Several years later, Master Frodo got down to business. “I hate to deprive you all of this morning’s entertainment but I was hoping to have a few words with Master Strongwill alone?”

Will heard his friends shuffle their feet as they fearfully thought that one over. Resigned, he gave his orders. “Buttercup, see if you can’t give Master Meriadoc a treat and find him some partridges. Twins, the coney hutches need to be repaired and the coneys separated. They’re breeding faster than we can eat them. Ahhh, Toro and Ardal, walk Huan, I guess.”

There were mumbled affirmatives, then they all stood up and were gone as if a cold wind had swept them all away. Will was dimly annoyed by their obedience. They could have, at least, said goodbye.

He was alone.

Alone with the legendary Frodo of the Nine Fingers, the Ringbearer, the single most heroic and renowned Hobbit ever born. And, oh, yes, he was also Mad as the March Wind and potentially deadly, mustn’t forget that. Though Frodo was usually quite mild and ordinary, Pug had seen the Master when a ‘fit’ had taken him and he had passed his shock and horror on to Will. Share and share alike, the two had had nightmares for a week.

Will stood up and faced the direction he’d heard the voice last. “Good morning, Master Frodo.”

“Morning.” The whisper sounded directly in his ear and Will jumped back, almost falling over his rocker. He felt a flush of anger and forced himself to be still. Hobbits were naturally quiet but that little trick was extraordinary, especially on this squeaky porch. One for Mad Baggins.

There was a pause, then he heard the strings of the violin being plucked but Master Frodo didn’t pick it up. “This was my mother’s.”

“Was it?” Will’s voice was neutral.

“Oh, yes, and it’s one of Rose-lass’ most prized possessions. I’m surprised she didn’t chase you with a rake all the way here. Telling, that.”

“She’ll appreciate you taking it back then.”

“I won’t be taking it back.” Master Frodo sounded amused. “You will.”

“I won’t.” He knew he was digging quite a hole for himself but, should the worst happen, Will could live quite comfortably away from the Buckland if Master Merry kicked him out for defying his kin and guests. Strongwill lived up to his name and knew it. Master Frodo would know it, too, before they were finished. Master Frodo laughed, then, for no apparent reason and Will clenched his teeth.

“Allow me to explain myself, Mister Bunce,” Frodo replied. Will braced himself. His former plan to take what was rightly coming to him faded away. If Master Frodo became dangerous then Will would fight. He seemed to be roughly Will’s height and was reputed to be thin. “I don’t want you to publicly humiliate yourself. I want you to give Rose-lass music lessons.”

It was a moment before Will could speak. “Sir?”

“I talked it over with Sam and Rosie, er, the Mayor and the Mistress Rose, and we think you’d be good for her.”

“I …”

“She needs a decent teacher. It shouldn’t interfere too much with your duties here and I’ll pay you handsomely. Just until we all go back to Hobbiton.” Will picked at a worn spot on the wide brim of his hat and said nothing. “You two could be the very best of friends if you tried.” Master Frodo continued softly.

Surely he isn’t matchmaking? Will retreated into politeness. “Sir, I do regret what I did. Please take the violin and understand that I won’t be troubling Rose-lass or you or any of your family again. I apologize. But lessons would be impossible.”

Another laugh from the older hobbit. “I could make you, I suppose.”

Will cleared his throat. “No, you couldn’t.”

“You’re not as strong as you think you are.”

“Try me.” Will sneered before he could stop himself.

“All right.” Master Frodo agreed pleasantly.

Silence on the porch.

Ordinarily, Will could sense the whereabouts of any living creature within ten feet of him, but he couldn’t pinpoint Master Frodo at all. Not a breath or a rustle of clothes could he hear and not a scent could he smell. Had he crept away? Will reached out and immediately felt Master Frodo’s chest. He was standing very close. Will jerked his hand back. Then he felt his hat being twitched off his head. He clutched for it but it might as well have disappeared into a void. He swept his arm in front of him. Mad Baggins was out of reach, too.

Old, horrible memories of childhood bullies tormenting him rose up and Will’s anger became a very real and hungry beast. The wind blew his hair back as he taunted his opponent to bring him within reach. “Pug was afraid of you, y’know.” he said into the quiet. “Something about your eyes disagreed with him. But, sorry, you can’t ugly me to death.”

“I will always regret Pug’s dislike,” said that low voice and Will grabbed. There! He had Master Frodo by the front of his shirt and he bunched his hands in the cloth tightly. He wasn’t sneaking away again. “I especially regret the fact that I earned it,” the older Hobbit continued as if nothing untoward was happening at all. He moved his arm and Will heard his hat land on Buttercup’s vacant chair. “Quite the interloper, that boy.”

“He was not! Pug asked both the Mayor and the Mistress Rose for permission to court Elanor. ”

“Well, he didn’t ask me. Neither did Ellie, I recall.”

“Why should he ask you?! And who are you to dictate to Elanor?” His hands tightened their hold.

Pause.

"No one," came the defeated answer. He still made no move to pull away. Will was at a furious loss. He couldn’t throw the first punch.

Could he? No one. No one? Will had the sudden realization that his questions had hit home. He had expected punishment or a fight; blows, cursing, insults, anything but this awful, calm standoff. And he certainly hadn’t expected to cause pain. Real pain. How had he managed it? Why was Master Frodo hurting? Well, how much fun was Mad Baggins for the Gardners anyway? Not much. No one.

It must be terrible to be mad. As bad as being blind? Yes. Will, too, was no one. That brief moment of empathy staggered him and his fury bled away. This mess was all his fault, anyway. His grip began to loosen. He took a breath, hesitated, then said what he felt he had to. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” Frodo whispered and Will released him, ineffectually running his fingers over the cloth in a token straightening gesture. He leaned back, thoroughly lost. What a very strange morning this was turning out to be.

Will began to stammer. “I was angry at Rose-lass. I don’t know how I got that angry and I shouldn’t have done it. She drives me insane.”

“It’s been a terrible year for everyone. Yours isn’t the first fight to come from it.” Frodo’s voice was soft and compassionate. “It’s so hard, facing such a loss.”

Will nodded his head, ashamed. What could he say? He felt he had to make it right, somehow. “Listen Master Frodo, Pug wasn’t that afraid of you, really. He respected you. He liked you, in a way.” He decided to take a chance on a, hopefully, funny secret. “He even drew you a picture on one of the blank pages in the back of the Red Book.”

“What?” Frodo sounded astonished.

“Yessir.”

“It was Pug that drew ‘The Ringbearer Undraped And Surrounded By Sheep?’ We thought it was Del!” The strange tension in the air frayed as Master Frodo began to laugh outright, not the weird, secret chuckle he had let loose before but a genuine laugh and it brought a surprising warmth and light into his voice. Relieved, Will couldn’t help but respond to it with a musician’s appreciation. It reminded him of Elanor and he tilted his head and slowly smiled.

Why, Master Frodo sounded almost all right when he laughed.

“It was Pug. He was artistic but he kept it a secret. Hunters don’t draw pretty pictures, y’know.” Will confirmed, nodding.

“Poor Del. We owe her an apology.” Frodo decided. He caught his breath and was silent for a moment. Will sobered immediately.

And waited.

“I owe Goodwill an apology, too. But it’s impossible.” Frodo continued quietly. “He’s dead.” Will listened to the wind blow through the trees as Master Frodo got some of his own back.

He’s dead. He’s dead. Goodwill Bunce was never coming home.

Will tried to speak and failed. He tried again. Failed again. For the first time in his life, his world was truly dark. He felt Master Frodo’s hand take his. He's warm. Odd, that. Will would have bet all he owned that Mad Baggins would be cold. Despite himself he held on to that warmth tightly as he fought for control. He would not break down. Not now. Not after all he had gone through. He wouldn’t dishonor Pug now in front of…

“No, let it go, lad.” Frodo murmured. “Let it go.” And as if he were only waiting for someone’s permission, Will did. His face twisted in bleak horror and felt himself being gently pushed back into his rocker.

“Take… take the violin. Take it and go, please.” A terrible, searing ache was in his eyes and, ah, it hurt, crying burned so. Will never cried and his best friend was never, never coming back and... he gasped for breath. Dimly he felt Master Frodo kneel next to the rocker and put a comforting arm around his shoulders. Will shook his head. “Please take it back.”

“I can’t.” Master Frodo ran a gentle hand through Will’s hair and that was the end of the hunter’s vaunted strength. Insults and beatings and banishment he could endure but not kindness. He turned his face away, clapping a hand over his mouth as he began to sob. “Ah, you’re just like my Ellie,” Master Frodo said. “She mourns him so. She always will. You always will.” His fingers stroked through Will’s hair and his arm was a comforting weight.

Will wanted to collapse, he wanted to wander into the woods and die, he wanted Pug to stomp onto the porch and declare it a hideously long and bad joke and what was there to cry over, you sissy? But it was all impossible. Pug was never coming back. Will’s shoulders shook with a storm of grief and pain and loss and the tears fell. Ah, it hurt, so much that he wondered if there was blood streaming down his face.

The tears seeped over his fingers. Master Frodo stayed by his side.

“Pug! Bunto delivered a message from the Hall. Master Merry’s put in a request for venison at the High Table tonight.”

“At this short notice? He’ll be lucky if I can track down a crippled milk cow with a bell around its neck in time for supper, much less a deer. Besides, I’m busy.”

“I told that snot as much and it went over real well, you can imagine. But I got rid of him fast enough. What are you busy doing?” Will asked. The air was squeezed out of his lungs as Pug suddenly seized him in a tight hug. Surprised, he slowly reached up and patted his cousin’s broad back.

“Will, I’m …” Pug sighed and stepped back. “I’m off to do some pruning. Goodbye.” He kissed Will on the cheek.

“Now, have you been drinking?”

“Buckets,” Pug replied. Will could hear the grin.

“Good!” They laughed and Will wondered what was wrong. Pug was acting rather strangely but Will couldn’t smell a single drop of ale on him.

“I’m off, cuz, goodbye.” Pug whispered.

“There’s no moon tonight so be back before dark.”

Will laughed again and was gone.

Forever.

Will’s nails bit into his palms and he began to master himself. He realized he had a handkerchief and wondered where it came from. Where else? He mumbled thanks and wiped his face. He didn’t want to give the sodden mess back so he pocketed it.

“It’s not fair.” he choked out.

“No, it’s not,” Master Frodo replied.

“I’m not some stupid spoiled brat. I know the world isn’t fair. But Pug… why did it have to be Pug? Why couldn’t it be someone no one would miss, like me, or a great hero, like you? Why did he have to do it?”

“He was the only one that could do it. And you ...” Frodo pulled in a great breath of air. “You have to remember that Pug chose to do it. He sacrificed his own life so no one else would be tapped by fate to take on the job. And so no one else would be lured to death in the Old Forest. He did it out of love, Will.”

“If he loved us so much he wouldn’t have gone.” Will felt Frodo’s fingers on his mouth and he stopped.

“It was because he loved us so much that he died for us, Will. There’s no greater expression of love than that.”

More tears then, hot and fast and Will wiped them away with his sleeve until they, too, stopped. “Yes.” he finally admitted. “You’re right.” His forehead dropped on Frodo’s shoulder and he was still at last.

He concentrated on breathing for a few more moments. He felt like an old shirt that was just one more wearing away from the rag pile but nevertheless he felt clean. Strange, that. And what a way to go, no wonder his cousin’s note had been insufferably smug. Pug Bunce, hero of song and tale, ‘til the end of time. Perfect. What a perfect way to die. Good for Pug.

Will was so weary he was beyond surprises. Which is why he didn't wonder at, or even mind, Frodo Baggins, of all people, holding him. He felt strong hands glide through his hair and he had just enough energy left to wonder which was the hand with only four fingers.

Heroes.

“Thank you,” he whispered to them both, the one living and the one dead. “Thank you.” He tried to lean back, break away from Frodo’s warmth and his comfort, but he couldn’t manage more than a brief twitch. He couldn’t do it. He simply could not stop the contact and he sighed. He couldn’t even care. “I’m sorry.”

Frodo tilted Will’s chin up. “I can’t believe you’re so closely related to Goodwill. You’re very handsome.”

“Pug was handsome.”

“He was?” An amused note of doubt crept into Frodo's voice.

“He said he was. He wouldn’t lie to me!” Will grinned and Frodo laughed. There it was again, that free and lovely sound. Will leaned towards it and suddenly felt Frodo’s hands on each side of his face, gentle and strong and warm. He had just time enough to think He’s not… before Frodo did. Just the briefest touch, the slightest, comforting breath of a kiss and then it was gone. Soft. Those lips were soft.

A lifetime of loneliness compelled Will to reach out and bring him back. What did the Ringbearer look like? He touched Frodo’s face. Long lashes brushed his fingertips as his thumb stroked full lips. Warm, soft skin was against his palm. Hero. A hero’s love. He leaned in again and asked for a drink of comfort from that mouth. Frodo hesitated, then gave it. A very welcome, warm draught for a very thirsty and desperate tween.

The kiss was generous, warm and perfect and Will basked in the sudden heat. He did live up to his name, then, and crushed Frodo against him. Another kiss then, slow and powerful and hungry. He was alive, alive and breathing and desire woke his beaten soul.

Suddenly, the last vestige of his self-control tapped him politely on the shoulder. What are you doing? And to who? I mean, technically he’s not married. But the Mayor could snap you in two and I hear the Mistress Rose can be fierce and, well…

Will stopped with a gasp. He had Frodo across his lap in an iron grip. One more moment and he would have had him down on the porch. Finger by finger, he relaxed his tight hold and Frodo slid away. They were both breathing hard.

“I’m sorry.” Will whispered. “I’m sorry, sir, I’m not myself. I’m so sorry.”

Frodo crawled up the porch railing until he was upright. “No… need to… apologize.” Will heard him straighten his clothing and frantically tried to remember where exactly he had been clutching the older hobbit. “Will?”

“Sir?” Will asked.

“You simply must find someone and soon.” Frodo sounded on the verge of astonished laughter.

Will felt his face burn. “No one wants a blind fiddle player.”

Will heard the boards creak as Frodo moved close again. “I do,” Frodo admitted into his ear, his voice low and intimate. He breathed out a warm breath as he kissed the lobe. Will’s entire body flushed and his hands flexed. Frodo wisely jumped back. Will wanted to laugh and was surprised by the feeling. “And where there’s one, there’s bound to be others. Listen, being strong and being courageous are two completely different things. You’ve been strong your entire life. Time to be brave, don’t you think?” Will shrugged. Frodo moved close again. “So, will you teach the Beast to play?” he whispered.

Will gave a hint of a smile and shook his head. “I can’t. It’s been so long. That song yesterday... It was like drinking poison it hurt so much. I’d have to learn to play again myself before I’d be any good for Rose-lass or anyone.”

“But you will teach her someday?”

“For you, yes, I’ll do my best. If she and I don’t kill each other, of course. We’ve never gotten along.” Will promised. Frodo softly laughed and his breath was warm.

“Keep the violin, then.”

“Sir?”

“Rumor has it you smashed your own. You need something to play and it would please me very much to know that Mum’s fiddle was helping you find your music again.”

“But it’s Rose’s.”

“Rose-lass has become rather a shrew despite all our efforts. Why she should be so envious of others when she has so much is beyond me. This should open her eyes.”

Will shook his head in sympathy. “You don’t think this will make her even more angry?” He felt Frodo shrug. “It’s too fine for me. I can’t accept it.”

“Then just borrow it. Bring it back when you find one of your own and you’re ready to teach. All right?”

That fine, fine violin. Music. The crush and smoke and applause of an appreciative audience. He would finally play the songs they were singing about Pug and he’d show them just how it was done, damn it. That was more than all right. “That would be wonderful, sir. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Good luck, then. And for my own safety I will also wish you a good morning.”

Will understood that wisdom and nodded his head. “Good morning, Fro… Master Frodo.”

“Just Frodo, Will. Bring the violin back to us when you’re ready.”

“I will.” He felt fingers stroke his cheek in farewell, then the porch steps squeaked as Frodo took himself away. Will could feel every step he took down the road and knew Mad Baggins would never be invisible to him again.

Will sat on the porch for a long time, feeling very much like a burned out building, and slowly became aware of the life of the summer day around him. The bees and the crickets flew, buzzed and chirped. The birds twittered and sang maniacally. His heart beat hard and fast. All around and within him was a regular racket. Why hadn’t he noticed it before? He hadn't bothered to pay attention before, obviously. All year long he’d been deaf and mute and senseless.

Now, as he rocked in his chair, the warm air filling his lungs, he lifted his head and began to listen again, at last. Such a raucous, jolly sound that carried on age after age after age regardless of heartbreak and turmoil. It wasn’t a constant, though. No. It arrived in the Spring and held on until the grey Winter drove it to fade, fade away into nothing. But it always came back.

Life. Awake and breathing and often hard and cold as granite in the moonlight but so worthwhile, still, even after it’s gone for good. Will mulled over that and felt peace begin to creep back into his soul as he listened and listened hard.

And at that very moment, he heard a sound that made him gasp in delighted, disbelieving shock.

Pug! Pug's voice, and he was laughing! Laughing!

Wherever Goodwill Bunce had fetched up Will knew in his soul that his cousin was laughing his spectral ass off. After what he had just witnessed, of course he was. He was rolling and howling and pointing as clearly as if he were on the porch and Will grinned, amazed. There was joy in the sound and sudden joy in Will’s spirit. Will broke and laughed with his cousin. He absolutely guffawed. “Cuz! Did you see? Did you see what I did? Oh, my!” Then he wept again.

It was glorious.

Will’s hands badly needed something to hold, so he seized the violin and clutched it to his chest as the wind blew through his unkempt hair. That was how Ardal and Toro found him when they crept back up to the Cabin not ten minutes later, Huan panting at their side.

“Oh, he’s a wreck!” Toro whispered.

“Great day in the morning, Will.” Ardal sympathized softly. One of them gently handed Will his hat. He took it, then dropped it. Pug was still snickering. “What did Mad Baggins do to you?” Ardie whispered.

“Frodo,” Will murmured “Gave me quite the earful.”

Point #3

It was like mastering a musical instrument in a way, Will decided as he caressed her soft skin. It took control, sensitivity, imagination and practice, practice, practice to get the proper… she arched her back and screamed her pleasure… to get the proper results. Will smiled as she collapsed back into his arms and he gripped her close, burying his face in her gossamer hair.

Will was the best musician in the Shire.

But, somehow he doubted that Frodo had meant Elanor when he advised him to find someone. Will had decided to be brave, however, and she had accepted him. She needed him. They needed each other desperately and had found a greater comfort in this, the ecstasy of their bodies, than anything else in the world. It would end when she went back to Hobbiton, but they would never forget what they had now, or regret it.

As Will drifted into sleep he could hear Pug applaud. Elanor could not. She’d never let her first love go if she knew he was still about. Will kept the secret, though it made him sad, and hoped fate was holding someone special in store for the beautiful, beautiful girl. He had uncertain hopes for himself, a great change from the bleak despair which marked the beginning of his summer, but, for now, his fingers passed softly across her breast, at least he had this.

Point #4 Two summers later.

Even with Pug gone his Spider Slaying Six (Daisy Gardner, her brother Sammie, Aster Digg-Tooter, Meli Took, Molly Brandybuck and Delphinium Grubb) held to their allegiance and affection for the residents of the Hunter’s Cabin and were perfectly at home there.

A long table separated the kitchen from the large main sitting area, so there was plenty of room for the six teens and the six hunters plus Huan. Ardal sharpened blades with Sammie's and Daisy’s assistance at one end of the table. Aster sat well away from all three of them and their deadly toys at the other end finishing a warm shawl Buttercup Bunce had started. Buttercup herself was in the main room, showing Meli and Molly a basic chain-stitch, as Toro avidly read a new book in a nearby chair.

Theo and Theo had finally found something they agreed on, Del Grubb, and, seated side by side at the center of the table, they watched her every move as she helped Will in the kitchen. She had confided to the musician, under her breath, that the Brandybuck Twins had grown to look entirely too much like Master Meriadoc for her comfort. She was now relating the latest Hobbiton gossip, specifically the sordid tale of Rose-lass Gardner's crossbow wedding to Del's own cousin, Slodo Grubb.

“Slodo did it to escape Grandfather," she confided.

Will startled. “You have a grandfather?”

“Can I tell him, Del?” Sammie asked and Del generously assented. “Only Del’s immediate family is dead. Her grandfather is Hardash Grubb.”

Will whistled, impressed and heard a horrified Eeeuuugh! from Ardal and the Twins. Buttercup and Toro expressed their sympathies as well and Del laughed. Sammie’s voice showed he clearly enjoyed the reaction to his revelation as he went on. "The Grubb of the North Grubbs, thank you very much, and he disowned his grandson faster than a whip crack. His parents aren’t saying a peep against the old crab and Slodo’s happy to be free of them all.”

Del took the story back. “My cousin just couldn’t take the family millstone around his neck anymore and became desperate. We suspect he decided disgrace was the way to go. He saw Rose-lass singing and dancing at a big Hobbiton party and latched on to her. They both got drunk and, well… ”

“If I were her father,” Ardal said, his blade making a whisking sound as he sawed the air with it, “Slodo would have become incapable of ever accomplishing such a thing again.”

“We don’t think he meant to take it quite that far, to tell you the truth. And we told her not to marry him,” Daisy stressed. “We don’t put much stock in propriety, anyway, but it was important to Slodo. He didn’t want to make a complete disgrace of himself or Rose and she, well, she went along with it, oddly enough.” Ardal cursed at that and his knife zipped through the air a few more times until he calmed down.

Will was confused. “Rose-lass singing, dancing and drinking too much ale? That doesn’t sound like the bitter little wallflower I remember at all.” A mercifully small whetstone bounced off the back of his head. “Ow.”

He heard Sammie chortle as the boy retrieved his stone. “My sister’s much nicer than she used to be. Starting from when you took Great Aunt Primula’s violin away, two years ago. Rose-lass threw a fit. She didn’t like you, she didn’t like music, she didn’t like this, she didn’t like that or the other and finally Uncle Frodo asked her if she liked herself?”

“Aaah, the Big Question!” Toro called from the main room, not as absorbed in his book as he appeared, and Meli and Molly made loud humming noises of assent.

Sammie continued his gossip blithely and Will wondered how he had ever thought Sam-lad was shy. “Rose-lass didn’t have an answer to that and cried for two days.”

“It’s a rotten time of life. A hard, miserable age for a girl.” Buttercup declared. “Especially if you’re high-strung the way she is and the way I was at that age. I was truly unhappy.”

“Must you turn every story around to you?” Toro asked mischievously.

“Hit him, Miss Molly.” Buttercup ordered and Will heard a slap.

“Aigh, my leg! I’m complaining to your dad!”

“I’ll hit him, too!” Molly declared and the kitchen fire nearly blew out from the force of the snort of disbelief that went up from all sides. She giggled.

“Anywayyy,” Sammie laughed, “She must have thought it over and all the fight went out of her, it seemed like. She just gave up. Then Uncle Pippin took her over and packed her off to Great Smials for a year by herself.”

Will sputtered. “What? Alone in Great Smials with all those Tooks?”

“Uncle Pippin decided she needed to get to know herself a bit. Find her feet. Grow up. He practically had to kidnap her out of Mum and Dad’s hands but he won in the end and away she went. It worked!”

“Tooks are good for what ails ya.” Meli Took intimated and they all enjoyed a round of wicked laughter.

Sammie spit on his whetstone and picked up another blade to sharpen. Will heard the gritty slide of the blade. “When she came back she was much better. Calmer.”

“Resigned.” Del said.

“I say mature,” Sammie disagreed and Will was amused. Both teens sounded like a couple of old grannies rehashing a decades old argument. “She got to know herself a bit and she was away long enough that she really came to appreciate what she had left behind. She doesn’t boss us anymore, she doesn’t have to win every argument. She has fun. She even gets along with Del and she used to just about HATE her.”

“We have a lot more in common than we used to.” Del said and her tone was hard to fathom.

“But then, two months ago, she met Slodo. Now she’s Rose-lass Grubb and is due in the Spring.” Sammie finished.

Daisy took up the story. “She seems happy. They have a small house in Hobbiton and we visit her all the time. She loves the thought of giving Mum and Dad and Uncle Frodo their first grandchild.” She sighed, then. “It’s not agreeing with her, though. The healers are making her stay in bed until it’s born. We bring her flowers.” There was silence for a while as everyone worriedly hoped for the best.

“I haven’t heard a word from Aster. Is she still alive?” Will finally asked, testing the beef roast.

Aster gasped. “I’m here.”

“What do you think of it all?” It was mean of him to put her on the spot like this, shy as she was, but Aster was the closest thing to an average Shire Hobbit they had and he wanted to know what the common consensus to all this was.

Aster cleared her throat. “I, well, no one minds, really. They got married and that’s the important thing for the baby. So it doesn’t matter if the union actually lasts, which everyone says it won’t,” she finally managed. Will reckoned he could feel the heat of her blush even at this distance. Considering the fact that her beau, Sammie, was clearly illegitimate it was probably painful for the reserved girl to be so blunt. “And no one blames Slodo for skipping out on the North Grubbs. They’re an awful bunch of, er, what was it again, Del?”

“Snobbish kill-joys.” Del said. “Except for Da and Ma, who were practically worshipped before they got squished.” her voice was fondly sad. Aster began to sniffle. “Oh, Aster don’t! Forget I said anything.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Sammie,” Will interrupted. “Come with me. Watch the roast, Del, and don’t kill the twins while I’m gone.”

“Awwww.” she answered and the Theos laughed, not realizing that neither Will nor Del were joking.

Will led the boy towards the back of the long cabin where the bedrooms were. Will turned into his own room and motioned for Sammie to follow him in. “Sorry about the mess. If I can’t see the clutter, it doesn’t exist.”

“Uncle Frodo’s study is worse. He says he loses two weeks progress on whatever he’s working on if anyone cleans.” Sammie laughed and Will could hear him poking about here and there as Will drew a low trunk out from under his bed. “Dog hair’s everywhere.”

“That’s Huan. Buttercup could practically knit me a new dog out of all this.” There were no locks on his trunk, no need to protect his things from Pug’s ‘What’s mine is mine and what’s yours is mine, also.’ philosophy anymore and Will sighed.

“Sometimes I feel that Pug is still around.” Sammie whispered.

Will knew Sammie well enough not to be surprised by his uncanny insights. “He is,” he simply answered.

Ain’t!

Sammie turned around sharply but Will was used to it and snickered. Pug loved to tease, still. Would Sammie scream the way Ardal had? No. Suddenly, he could actually feel the boy grinning and Will couldn’t believe it. Anyone else would have been disturbed instead of gleeful. Ah, well, Sammie was different, anyway.

“Look here, lad.” He picked what he wanted out of the trunk, closed the lid, and slid it back under the bed with his foot. He held an old, battered instrument case in his hands. “Here is Primula Baggins’ violin. I have my own, now, of dwarf-make, even, so you can take all this back to Rose-lass. She’s having a rough time and this should make her feel better. And tell her I apologize for trying to whack her with the bow.”

Sammie carefully took the box. “You won’t take it back to her yourself?” he murmured.

“You know, I suspected Master Frodo of matchmaking, two years ago. Now I’m suspecting you.”

“Don’t suspect. I admit that’s exactly what I’m doing!”

“She’s married.”

“Feh.” Sammie whacked Will’s arm as he dismissed the marriage that everyone else was easily dismissing, too. “Didn’t you promise to give her lessons?” Sammie insisted. He was nothing if not tenacious but Will shook his head. “You two are just alike, Will. You’re both… ” Sammie hesitated.

“Both what?” Will asked cautiously.

Alone, still.

Will flinched and Sammie gasped. “I don’t want to hear it. From either of you.” Will said.

How do you lay a porcupine?

“Pug!”

“How do you lay a porcupine?” Sam-lad whispered mischievously.

Very carefully.

Sammie laughed out loud. Yes, there it was. He had his father’s laugh, free, lovely and wild despite all the pain and nonsense that often surrounded him. Despite everything. Will lost the battle and laughed with him. He would always love that sound.

Sammie put a hand on his shoulder. It was unexpected and Will jumped. “Sorry, Will, we’re sorry.” Sammie said. “But everyone thinks you two would be wonderful together.” Will had long since been disabused of the notion that no one wanted a blind fiddle player, but he wanted more. Something good and soft and joyous. Something fine. He wanted love. He didn’t want to settle for a disappointed hobbit-lass just because she would have him.

“I’m not taking the fiddle home.” Sammie asserted. “You have to do it.”

Will groaned and moaned and complained. He even tried logic. But Sammie had a strong will of his own and he was soon obliged to take the case back. “Your entire family gives me a headache, I just want you to know that.” Will decided.

“We give everyone a headache. It’s fun!” Sam-lad laughed again and Will basked in the sound.

“Sammie, hold still a moment.” he said as he raised his hand.

“Um. All right.” Sammie suddenly sounded uncertain.

"Nothing to fear from me, lad," Will assured him. He calmly reached out and ran his fingers through Sammie's hair. Yes, just as soft and silky as Frodo’s own. Sammie’s forehead was a gentle curve and his long lashes blinked against Will’s palm. His hand continued downward, yes, the same nose, the same soft skin and the same full mouth. Will dropped his hand and shook his head. “You and your ‘uncle’ could be twins. Everyone tells me so but I had to see for myself. So to speak.”

“I have freckles, though.”

“Do you?” Will grinned. “I can’t feel those.” Though he was rather tempted to try.

“How do you know what Uncle Frodo looks like?” Sammie asked with his typical forthrightness.

“You know he was the one who came to kick my arse when I took that violin from Rose-lass.” He beckoned to Sammie and they rejoined the party. He could smell nothing burning so the roast was all right. The Theos were laughing at something so they were still alive and continuing to drive Del up the wall. It wasn’t a proper answer at all but it was all he was willing to admit. To his surprise, Sammie let it drop.

Point #5 Two More Summers Later

Guilt finally prompted Will to head for Rowan Row and the visiting Gardners with Primula's polished and restrung violin in a traveling pack slung over his shoulder. He’d had it for four years and he figured that one more day would make it officially stolen. He couldn’t bear that. As he walked towards the Row, Huan thundered around and around him in a circle, chasing bees and barking at nothing.

Progress was slow. First, Mrs. Eulalie Rushock waylaid him to ask him to play at her daughter’s wedding along with her son’s band. Surely they weren’t going to try to get him to join permanently? Probably they were but Will pleasantly agreed anyway. They were good people and good friends. The wedding promised to be a great party.

Second, Old Marmaduke Brandybuck stopped him with a serious complaint. Toro was setting bear traps in his flower garden. It was a while before Will could soothe him enough to accept the Top Hunter’s formal apology and he stalked away, muttering. Either the old fellow was mad or Toro was having a joke at his great-uncle’s expense. Will suspected the latter and began to plan a ‘stern’ lecture.

Finally, Sammie and Daisy Gardner and a horde of little brothers, sisters and cousins thundered up to him and politely asked if they could borrow Huan for a game of Warg Rider. Will didn’t even have time to answer before the enormous dog was away with Ruby Gardner clinging to his back and the others running fast behind. Will was very glad the violin case was hidden in his shoulder pack or Sammie would have given him no end of teasing grief over it. He continued on, enthusiastically chatting with anyone that chose to stop him. It was a beautiful day and he was in no hurry.

Will was singing when he finally arrived at the smial. He hadn’t been there in four years but the plum trees still lined the road and he could still hear…

“Eeeehhaaa!” squealed a young lass’ voice.

What in the world?

“Eeeeyyagh!” She was mimicked by a baby, just learning to talk from the sound of it and Will smiled.

“Helloooo!"

"Heerroh!"

"Wugga wugga wugga!"

The baby was game, "Wughraahrawub!" and the girl laughed. The child laughed back and the two nearly had conniptions as they giggled and guffawed and gasped for air. Will almost fainted from the wonderful racket, and grinned as he walked forward.

“Hello!” he greeted them warmly.

"Eeee!!" He had arrived and the child’s life was complete. Will heard the whisk! whisk! whisk! of a diaper as he was rushed and felt a warm weight land on his feet. He put down his shoulder pack and picked up the squirming thing, comfortably settling it into the crook of his arm. "Hegrowh!"

“Hello to you, too!” Will laughed.

"Bbuuzzhahshh!" the baby opined.

“So you claim. I don’t believe a word of it.” Little arms were thrown around his neck and he caught a very slobbery kiss on his chin. “Blick!” He stroked its head and felt curls tied with ribbons. “A little girl, eh? A little girl or a very maltreated little boy.” He pinched a ribbon with distaste.

“She’s a girl. Her name is Lillian,” answered a low, cheerful voice from the ground.

“Oh, Rose-lass’ daughter. I’ve heard all about you, squirt.” Will confided and Lillian giggled, throwing his hat to the ground. Will just let it fall and enjoyed the wind and sun in his hair. “Is her mother lurking about anywhere? I have to talk to her.”

“Heh. I’m right here, Will.”

Will jumped and Lillian giggled. “That can’t be you, Rose-lass.”

“Yes, it’s me. The Beast in all her glory.” She laughed again. Will was absolutely staggered. The harsh, whiny edge to the girl’s voice was gone, leaving behind the clean, rather husky, tones of a mature Hobbit-maid. What a change.

“Amazing,” he said. Lillian crawled up his arm and onto his shoulders like a happy little weasel as he bent, felt around, found and opened his pack.

“Amazing?”

Will didn’t clarify. He pulled out the violin case and heard her gasp. “Here. I’m releasing your violin from captivity.” He handed it over without preamble and she took it.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, as he heard the fastenings snap. She opened the case and breathed in sharply. “Oh.” He heard her fingers stroking the strings. And then he heard her begin to cry. Will felt mighty low, suddenly.

Lillian began to struggle and he set her back on the ground. “Muuumeeee!”

“I’m all right. Mummy’s all right.” Rose-lass reassured her and Will heard her give a comforting kiss.

He cleared his throat. “Ah. Well. I’m sorry. If I had known how much it meant to you I would have brought it back sooner.” She snorted. He wasn’t sure, himself, if that was true or not. Will sat down in front of the two. “I wouldn’t have taken it at all.” Definitely untrue. Sniffling, Lillian crawled into his lap, obviously wanting comfort from everyone. He hugged her and kissed the top of her head.

She pulled his hair. “Purdy.”

“Thank you.” He gently tugged her own fine curls. “You’re purdy, too.” An awful SQWONK! cut through the air and he and the baby clung to each other in sudden fear. Rose-lass was trying to play. SKREEEENK! Will still felt too guilty to say anything but the thought of that beautiful instrument being delivered back into the hands of an incompetent pained him.

Mercifully, Rose-lass stopped. “I’ll never be able to play it no matter… I mean… I say! You two make a lovely picture, there in the sunshine.” Rueful pleasure was in her voice and Will smiled in surprise at the unexpected turn-around and compliment. Rose-lass Gardner passing up an opportunity to complain or slight herself? She had indeed changed. Drastically. Where was Slodo? Oh, yes, Buttercup had told him he had skipped out to Bree. Good riddance. “I’m glad you came, Will.”

“You forgive me then?” he asked, surprised.

“Are you actually apologizing?”

“No.”

She hesitated and Will listened to the grass rustle. Was she offended? Did he care? Then “Well, there’s no need to apologize, really,” she finally sighed as she put the violin back in the case and slowly shut it with a regretful snap. “I admit I was a piece of work. I still am, really, don’t be fooled by my innocent loveliness.” She laughed but it was tinged with a heavy maturity.

“You can’t fool me with appearances, I’m afraid. I judge people by their actions. Owwww!” Lillian was yanking on his ear. He flipped her up and bit her on her chubby leg. “And I’m judging you right now, brat!” Lillian squealed and giggled and kicked and he put her down before she could break his nose. She clung to his arm.

“My, she likes you! She doesn’t take to just anyone.”

“Neither do I.” Will tickled the baby, and she shrieked and laughed some more. He wondered if Rose-lass was insulted by him calling Lillian a brat. He decided that he would be.

He asked himself the question again. Did he care what Rose-lass thought? To his great surprise he realized that, yes, he did. She had grown into a, well, a better person. Will did not consider himself a great prize but he had grown, too, these past four years. They were so changed they might as well be two strangers meeting for the first time and neither of them were fine but, oh, they had the potential. Will came to a decision. He could already hear Pug beginning to gloat.

“Would you like lessons?” he asked. He could hear her picking and tearing at the grass. “We have all summer and Frodo told me, four years ago, that we could become friends if we tried. I understand he’s usually right.”

“Don’t you mean Master Frodo?” Rose asked.

“Nooo, I mean Frodo.” Will smiled. Let her chew on that for a while. Lillian clambered back up onto his shoulders.

Rose-lass pulled at the grass some more. Will imagined she was surrounded by a ring of bare earth by now. “Elanor told me about you,” she finally whispered and Will laughed outright. The baby laughed with him.

“I’ve been ruined!” he whispered dramatically. She laughed out of sheer surprise. What, she didn’t think he’d admit to it? “But listen,” he leaned forward and took hold of Lil’s fuzzy feet so she wouldn’t tumble over his head. “I really am just offering violin lessons.”

“Mum! Mummy, mummymummumumummyyy!!” Lillian sang to Rose-lass and Will waited. He wasn’t anxious but he would admit to some disappointment if she refused.

YES! Pug shouted.

"Yesh!" Lillian shouted back.

“Yes!” Rose answered, startled.

“All right, then.” Will said. “Take up the violin.” He braced himself for the trial to come. “And let’s give it a whirl.”

End