"You've been away a long time, Folco." Frodo Baggins finally said into the comfortable silence and Fredegar Bolger murmured his agreement. Folco Boffin opened one eye and smiled at them. Folco was Freddie's age, dark haired, built strong and was handsome when he smiled, which was seldom.
"It's good to be back in Hobbiton," Folco agreed and laced his hands behind his head as he stared up into the shimmering brilliance of the mallorn tree. It was Spring and golden flowers were replacing golden leaves to Folco's wonder. "One more day among my wife's relatives on the other side of the Shire and I would have gone mad." He watched his little sons chase the Mayor of said Shire around and around a young oak tree on the borders of the party field and shook his head, bemused. Not even a day spent in New Row and his entire family was in love with Samwise the Brave. Well, everyone but...
"Are you just going to lie under the tree all day?" His wife. Mag. More often than not pronounced MMMMAAAHHHGGH by the folks who knew her and wished they didn't. Leaving her people had made her even more irritable than usual and she blamed, rather than thanked, the mayor who had cleared the way for them to settle right on The Hill itself when their old smial in far-off Willowbottom had rather dramatically fallen in on itself after a particularly hard rain.
"It's a hot day, so, yes, I think I'm set," he answered as three pairs of cold eyes gazed on her and dared her to make an argument. In the distance half of the mayor's own horde of children joined Folco's sons in running Sam to ground. It was a beautiful sight, a beautiful sound and Mag scowled at it. Suddenly Folco was tired, dead tired and damn sick of it all. "It's so hot I think I'll take off my shirt," he decided.
"Don't be ridiculous. People will see," she snapped and turned to watch the runners come nearer.
"Let them." Folco unbuttoned his collar. Frodo and Freddie shot an intense look at each other and held very still.
"They'll see!" Mag hissed, "And the children will see!"
"Oh, they've seen worse, believe me," Frodo's soft voice reassured her as Folco pulled his shirt off over his head. Mag went red and stepped back. Folco's skin was pale, it hadn't seen the sun in years. Folco hated being so pasty white, he hated...
"What have we seen?" asked a young voice. They looked over at Daisy who had overheard Mag's protests and had left the game out of curiosity. Samlad followed her. He was followed by Merry-lad who was followed by Pip and, eventually, everyone downed tools and formed an interested audience in front of their new neighbors. Mag was horrified.
"Shall I, Frodo?" Folco quietly asked as Freddie gazed at them both with compassion.
"Yes, if you want, cousin," Frodo was near tears.
Folco looked up at the Gardners who were waiting in sudden suspense. Mag was glaring. "You see, everyone, the half-orcs that took over Hobbiton during the Siege were a nasty bunch..." Folco ran out of words so he turned his back on them all to let his skin do his talking. He heard gasps and muttered curses from the older children and the Mayor as they looked on the savage scars the whips had left on his back. They crossed and recrossed with malicious abandon and Folco sighed at the memory of it. He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder and nearly fainted with shock.
It was Sammie. The boy ran his fingers across the raised skin and shook his head, impressed. "Those are bad. Real bad," he said and Folco looked at Frodo in amazement. "Not as bad as Gaffer Bunce's though." Folco laughed so suddenly he surprised himself and Mag finally broke and stormed away. A few nonchalantly watched her go but they quickly turned back to Master Boffin. "Did it hurt very much?"
"Oh, I should say so." His youngest boy, Rudo, crawled into his lap and Folco hugged him. Other hands joined Sammie's as they stroked his back in forward, childish interest and Folco swallowed a lump in his throat. "But I'm all right now."
~
Pretty Good Year