The Undoing of Daffodil Underhill

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Mirimaran
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Re: The Undoing of Daffodil Underhill

Post by Mirimaran »

Many thanks friends! This story has been brewing for about a year now, so it's great to finally get it out of my head and on screen lol Gondian, this is set before the War of the Ring, and roughly parallels the events in LOTR. Daffodil is about 17 at this time, and she and Frodo (a distant correspondent) are about the same age. She has many adventures for me to account, but she does have a role, minor but pivotal perhaps, in the defense of the North. I will have to speak to my wife on the subject of illustration, as she had already done one for 'A Rainy Night at the Pony'.

Again, thank you all for reading and the comments! Thanks for indulging me and my commas lol

,

Ken :)
"Well, what are you waiting for? I am an old man, and have no time for your falter! Come at me, if you will, for I do not sing songs of dastards!"
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Re: The Undoing of Daffodil Underhill

Post by Ernildir »

Yay! More commas, please!
And I saw heaven opened, and behold a white horse; and he that sat upon him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he doth judge and make war.
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Re: The Undoing of Daffodil Underhill

Post by Mirimaran »

(Sorry for delay in posting. It's been a stressful couple of weeks.)


So the day of fun and games began. Daffodil and Harry led the children to the Meadow, and under the great shade of Bent-bough the hobbit children played their games of 'If You Please' and 'Badger Badger Badger'. Some played with their toys, and then shared amongst each other, for that is in the true nature of hobbits. Even Rorry would lend out his wagon for play, or pretend to haul a doll for a pretty girl, but always it came back to him, and he would lay beneath Bent-bough, a little smile on his face as he pushed the wagon in the grass, and would pretend that he was along with his dad, delivering goods to Bree or even the Shire. Later he and the smaller children would nap as the sun grew hot, and when a breeze would fail, only Daffodil would notice when a low branch might get a tad lower, and sway gently over the little boy. Daffodil sat and told stories to the other children, as they lunched on snacks and what Daffy could snatch from the kitchen (repeated trips, it would seem) and every so often she would look over her shoulder at Bent-bough and smile.

Meanwhile at the Bolger's hole things were stirring! At the top of the Lane the good gentlehobbits of Staddle moved about with purpose; remembering a pail of paint, or extra lumber, or clippers that could be put to good use. But the most important thing they remembered was Nettie of the Golden Hair, and as they worked they remembered an old tune, to which the boys of their yesterday had set words:

Golden hair Nellie under the old tree
in the Meadow for all to see
Who will be the first to steal a kiss
from Staddle's prettiest Miss?

Nettie was now sitting on her front stoop, surrounded by her childhood friends. Elly stood behind her, combing out her fading golden hair, while another rubbed ointments on her red hands, tsking the whole time.

"But my washing! I must get it done", she said, even as the other women began to fuss over her.

"Nonsense", said Bessie Bellflower, "my two girls can finish that up for you! Now sit still!"

Bessie's two daughters then went inside the modest hole, finding the laundry in a bare side room. They shared a laugh, holding up the personals of some of the Big Folk, and then as hobbits are wont to do, thought a snack might make the work go faster. So they stole to the kitchen and stopped short at the sight. The cupboards were bare, naught on the small table in the center of the kitchen but three chipped plates and a single mug. One of the girls went out the back and came around to her mother, whispering in her ear. Bessie's eyes went wide, and as Nettie talked to Elly, took the others to the side.

"Not a bit or a bite, a crust or crumb!" she said, "go to your kitchens and see what you can spare! And be quiet about it!"

So some of the women slipped away to kitchen and pantry, and the word spread quickly, until Josie was hanging on every word, leaning on the fence of the Underhill's.

"Oh my!", she gasped, "well, I am sure Mister Underhill won't miss a couple of things!"

She was deep in the pantry, filling up a sack with summer sausages and cheese, when Mrs. Underhill came home.

"Josie! Whatever are you doing?" asked Mrs. Underhill, in her finest bonnet, her hands on her hips.

Josie screamed, dropping the sack, an apple rolling out.

"Ma'am! I was...you see...I..."

"Stealing? What is this about?"

"No ma'am! It's for the Widow Bolger!" and then Josie told her everything that was going on. Finally Mrs. Underhill held up her hand.

"Enough! I will have to see this for myself. You just keep filling up that sack, and be sure to go all the way to the back!"

"But that's Mr. Underhill's special shelf!" exclaimed Josie, "he'll sack me for sure!"

"Nonsense, Josie. You work for me, and I am in charge of the kitchen. Otto Underhill won't miss a delicacy or two, and if he does he can kiss my foot!" She then held a finger up in the air and declared,

"My left foot!"

"Mrs. Underhill!" gasped Josie, her hand over her mouth.

"At your service!" Marigold Underhill exclaimed, and then she left, out the round door and marching down Primrose Lane.
-------------------------------------------------

There was a flurry of work in the yard of the Widow Bolger. The fence was being mended as milk paint was mixed, the gate set right and oiled, and the grass cut and trimmed. It was then that Bob Gardner uncovered a small (in truth, very small) sign that was staked deep in the ground, reading,

'Eviction at sunset unless the sum of debt is paid to Otto Underhill"

and reading the date of the day. He hurried over to his friends, who were taking a break and pulling from a jug. He showed them the sign and shouted,

"That Otto! What's he want, to own all of Staddle?"

"He was always a bit greedy, but it's Nettie!" exclaimed another.

"You would think, I mean, he can't still be bitter over all of that, can he?" asked a third. The hobbits nodded; each had grown up with Otto and well remembered the uproar when Harriford Bolger had stole Nettie away, and Otto had never forgotten it.

Bob then took a flagon and poured out the brown beer. He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and took out a silver penny, and dropped it ringing into the bottom.

"For Nettie!" he shouted, and then the others took up the cry, as if they were readying themselves for battle, and the ringing of silver pennies competed with the fury of hammers as the gentlehobbits of Staddle worked even harder.
-----------------------------------------------

Marigold Underhill stood at the top of the Lane, surveying the work going on and shaking her head. She marched past the gate, the gentlehobbits stopping and watching her walk right up to where Nettie was sitting. She stood there for a moment, eyes meeting Nettie's, until the Widow said, rather coldly,

"Well, hello Mrs. Underhill, how nice of you to visit."

"We'll have none of that, Nettie Thistlebottom", said Marigold, as she took off her fine bonnet and threw it to the ground, "we'll leave the grand names to the menfolk. Today, I'd rather just be Mary Took for awhile, if you don't mind." She then dropped to the ground beside Nettie, to the astonishment of the others.

"I'm sorry for your troubles, Nettie, and I have no excuse other than listening to my fat husband instead of seeing for myself. I was your friend once, and wish to be again."

Tears came to Nettie's eyes again (and not for the last time that day) as she took Marigold's hand.

"I was always your friend, Mary. Always."

Marigold smiled.

"We all were, we maids of Staddle. Do you remember what you used to call me?"

Nettie blushed as the other women laughed.

"Yes", she said, 'Mindful Mary'."

Marigold joined in the laughter and said,

"Well, some folks need minding! Just like that bunch", she said, pointing at the menfolk working.

"Why, I am suprised that one hasn't nailed the other to a board by now, without me here! Now listen, all of you! Mary Took is here and we are going to do this right."

"Do what, Mary?" asked Nettie.

"Remind my dear Otto what hobbits can do when they need to, and should do!"

"But, the debt, and the sun is already late in the sky", lamented Nettie.

"Don't you worry, Nettie" said Marigold with a smile, "the day isn't over yet!"
"Well, what are you waiting for? I am an old man, and have no time for your falter! Come at me, if you will, for I do not sing songs of dastards!"
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Re: The Undoing of Daffodil Underhill

Post by Greg »

*applause*
Now the sword shall come from under the cloak.
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Re: The Undoing of Daffodil Underhill

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-------------------------------------------------------------------

So the day went on. In the Meadow the children played all afternoon, until finally the sun began to set, sending long shadows across the tall grass. From the road Daffodil could hear parents calling for their children, so reluctantly she gathered them up and led them back to the lane, not knowing if her plans had worked or not. Would the Bolgers be saved, or would the South-men encroach on Staddle?

When she got to the top of the Lane parents were rushing and gathering their children, whispering to them and then smiling at Daffodil and the Bolger boys. As her own siblings gathered around her, Josie ran up to Daffodil.

"Miss Daffy! Your mother says for me to get your brothers and sisters and for you to take the Bolgers home right now!"

"My mother? Josie, what is going on?" asked Daffodil as it seemed all of Staddle was rushing up Primrose Lane.

"You just do what your mother says!" Josie then herded the younger Underhills home. Daffodil looked down the Lane, and then took both Harry and Rorry by the hand.

"Well, here goes nothing", she said, as they began walking.

As they neared the crook of the Lane Daffodil and the Bolger boys stopped short. They could see party lights strung and lit across the mended and painted fence, the lawn beyond as neat as any in Staddle, and everywhere the rush of well dressed hobbits with tables and chairs and food! As soon as Daffodil and the boys were noticed, smiles broke out among the adults, and as they entered the repaired gate, all the older hobbits parted in a wave, letting them pass on.

Slowly they walked, looking up at the smiles of the adults, Daffodil's heart beating wildly as she saw her mother and a group of ladies. Marigold rushed to her daughter.

"Come here, Daffy! Let the boys go to their mother." Daffodil looked at her own mother, tears in her eyes. It had been a long time since her most proper mother had called her Daffy.

"Did you do something?" she asked with a smile.

"Well, of course I did", replied Marigold, "I'm a Took, after all. Where do you think you get it from?"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Bolger boys walked slowly towards their home, Rorry slipping his hand into Harry's.

They came up to the group of women, each wearing a brightly coloured party dress and apron, and one with golden hair bound in blue ribbons had her back to the boys. Slowly she turned and for a moment Harry and Rorry did not recognize her, but then their mother smiled broadly and held her arms out for them. Their mother stood there, restored as if by some faerie magic. They rushed to her, and for the rest of their lives this is how the Bolger boys remembered their mother, beautiful and resplendent, and smelling of lavender.

"There are new clothes for the both of you", said Nettie Bolger, "and a grand party for all of us! Now, go and get dressed!"

The boys ran inside, and Daffodil could not contain her tears. She clung to her mother.

"I am so afraid, Mother! The sun is almost set, will the debt be paid?"

Marigold wiped at her daughter's tears.

"The menfolk have been collecting all afternoon, and I even gave what I had. I don't know, my Daffodil, but we will do our best to show Otto and those Men that we take care of our own here in Staddle. Now, run home and put on your party dress!"

Daffodil raced off home, where Josie had her siblings lined up and dressed.

"Your bath water is ready, and so is your dress!", she shouted as Daffodil raced to her room and did her best to be presentable. As she struggled with her apron, Daffodil had a thought and reached under her bed and pulled out a small box. She took the ancient coin that the Ranger had given her and put it on the bed.

"Just in case", she said.

Every so often she'd look out the round window at the setting sun, trying to straighten her apron as she fought in vain to fix the ribbons in her hair. Finally she gave up, screaming for Josie as she ran out, the old silver coin forgotten on the bed.

The Underhill children, followed closely by a red faced Josie, raced to the Bolgers, where the party had started. Music was playing, food already laid out on long low tables, and Mrs. Bolger and her children the center of attention.

Daffodil joined her mother, who was in her garden club dress and apron. Around them was a swirl of activity.

"Have you seen Father yet?" asked Daffodil.

"No", said her mother, "but he will be here soon. The rules say by sundown."

Daffodil bit her lip. She worried greatly about the debt of one hundred silver pennies, a very large sum in those days.

Marigold patted her daughter's hand.

"Now stop that. Things will work out, you will see. No matter what, you've done a good thing today."

Daffodil smiled at her mother and replied,

"So have you."

As all of Staddle gathered on the well-tended lawn of the Bolgers most had forgotten any debt or the real danger that the South-men would invade their small village. Instead they ate, and drank, and smoked, and danced to the merry tunes that Hobbits prefer, and were glad to have all of it. The sun was sinking, and the brightly coloured lanterns glowed in the fading light. Finally the sounds of heavy hooves could be heard on the Road, and soon three Men in dark cloaks and on black horses could be seen, and a cart containing Otto Underhill and the solicitor Willwright made their way to the gate of the Widow Bolger. Otto's eyes were wide, and his jowls shook when he saw the commotion, the repaired fence, the well-tended lawn, the food (to be honest, mostly from his own larders) and all of his neighbors. But what made him curse under his breath was seeing his wife and eldest maid-child in the middle of everything. He stole a glance back at the South-men, who seemed displeased.

Otto jumped down with a thud, followed by the solicitor.

"What's this? What is going on here?" he bellowed.

The music stopped as Nettie Bolger walked up to her gate, her boys in new clothes at her side. Around them gathered her neighbors, and Marigold and Daffodil stood behind the Bolgers.

"Well", said the solicitor, "in accordance to the Rules long set down by the ancient Hobbits of old, there is to be an accounting of debt here at days' end." At this one of the South-men chuckled, and Otto laughed nervously. His eyes moved rapidly, as if he were listening to someone, like an old friend who's hand lit on his shoulder he tilted his ear back and forth.

"Well on with it!', he snapped, "Mrs. Bolger, I see that your fortunes have changed since the morning passed! Am I to believe that you've come up with the money to pay your debt, or perhaps you've finally dug up that gold so often rumoured?"

Nettie Bolger drew herself up.

"No, Mister Underhill", she said with disdain, "I have no gold, hidden or otherwise, but today I have a treasure nonetheless. I have my sons, and my friends, and my good neighbours, and no matter what happens, we will be alright. There's more to life than money, though I doubt you'll ever understand that, Otto Underhill. How you managed to marry such a good Hobbit as Marigold Took, much less have such a sweet child as Daffodil, it is beyond me! Have on with it, lest the food gets cold. Feast or farewell, my neighbours are hungry!"

Willwright straightened his fine waistcoat and asked,

"Is there a payment?"

Two stout Hobbits moved up through the crowd, lifting a heavy flagon filled with silver pennies and setting it at the large feet of Otto Underhill.

"Here it is!", one shouted, "all that we could gather."

"Surely more than enough", said the other.

"Bah", scoffed one of the Men, his Common speech thick and accented, "count it. Count it all."

The sun was setting, already the sky was painted red and gold, and shadows like fingers clutched around the flagon.

"Very well then", said Willwright, as he began counting.

Daffodil clutched at her mother as she had when she was a child. "Count faster!", she hissed in a whisper, casting a piercing stare at the Men, who seemed both amused and annoyed at the minor legalities of these small folk. There was silence as the solicitor counted, and all that could be heard was the clear ringing of silver on silver. Finally, the counting stopped, and the clear ringing faded away, as did the sunlight, as the last of the day gave way to dusk.

"The count is 99 silver pennies", announced the solicitor, "and the agreed upon debt is 100 silver pennies." Behind him the Men chuckled, Otto's eyes were wide, staring at the pile of coins, and among his neighbors were angry rumbles.

"Count it again!" shouted Daffodil, rushing forward, "you must have miscounted!"

Willwright gave the daughter of Otto Underhill an icy stare.

"I did not miscount, young miss", he said, "I am a professional. The tally remains the same. Unless one silver penny is paid in", he looked at the western sky, "moments, it seems, then these Men have the right to purchase the property."

Daffodil's face then lit up as she reached in her apron.

"I have it!" she exclaimed, digging into her apron pocket. "And it will be by the silver of the true Men of the North will your plans be thwarted, it will..." Daffodil's fingers grasped nothing but air, searching in vain for the old silver coin. The South-men looked at each other, wondering if the Rangers were behind this, and though the hobbits did not noticed, each had fingered the horn hilts of their swords.

"What?" she cried, her face dropping, and then she realized that the coin was still on her bed. She looked quickly at the sky, and then the lane. No time to rush home, no time left at all.

"But...but...I have it", she said, her voice growing smaller, tears flowing. "Father, please, give me time to run home...I can do this...please Father...". Otto's face was like stone, but his quick eyes darted back and forth. Marigold came behind Daffodil and gently pulled her away.

"There is no sense talking to him now, my dear", Marigold said quietly to her daughter, "let what is to be come."

Daffodil could not stand to watch, could not bear to think that all that she had done, all that her mother and all of Staddle was able to do in a single afternoon had come to this. She had failed. Daffodil covered her face and leaned against her mother's shoulder. The last ray of the longest day of the year falling upon the pile of silver at her father's feet, Daffodil Underhill, it seemed, was undone.
"Well, what are you waiting for? I am an old man, and have no time for your falter! Come at me, if you will, for I do not sing songs of dastards!"
kaelln

Re: The Undoing of Daffodil Underhill

Post by kaelln »

Ken, I have to say that you have done a masterful job so far. As far as I'm concerned, this is professional quality work, and frankly much better than many things I've read by famous best-selling authors. (As an example, I would point you to Witch and Wizard by James Patterson, just horribly bad work.) Daffodil is a breath of fresh air. I know that you'll write whatever suits your fancy, but I would love to see you do a publishable work. You're more than ready.
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Re: The Undoing of Daffodil Underhill

Post by Mirimaran »

Thank you for the kind words Kaelln! I am going to try and resurrect a story that I started 4 years ago and see what I can do with it. Mostly I have to find the time to work on things like Daffodil and other stories and poems. Doing my best, but I am glad that you guys like reading about Daffodil as much as I like to write about her!

:)

Ken
"Well, what are you waiting for? I am an old man, and have no time for your falter! Come at me, if you will, for I do not sing songs of dastards!"
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Re: The Undoing of Daffodil Underhill

Post by Mirimaran »

What happened next, well, it was totally unexpected. Daffodil hid her face, and around her the din of the crowd stopped suddenly. Then there was the distinct sound of silver ringing on silver, and then the entire crowd gasped at once! Daffodil opened her eyes, and she of all people gasped the loudest, for she was able to see the last silver penny still dancing on the pile at the feet of her father, and more than that, the open hand of Otto Underhill over the pile, and none more surprised than himself, for it was he who gave the last silver penny!

The solicitor Willwright looked at the penny, then at the sun, which had finally slipped away, as so did the day, and he declared,

"The debt is paid! No eviction today!", casting a smug look at the South-men. Nervously Otto looked around at the Men, the look on his face priceless. One of the men began to curse in his language, cruel and barbed, laced with spice and smoke, but their leader silenced him with a broad hand. He spat at Otto's feet and said,

"A bad day for business, it seems." With that he spurred his horse and his compatriots followed him, chased by the cheers and jeers of the crowd. Daffodil, her bright eyes shiny with tears, approached her father, who still stood a little dazed from all the confusion. Gently she helped him lower his arm, and then flung her own arms around his broad neck.

"Father! Thank you!" she cried, and hugged him tight. He began to chuckle and embraced his daughter. Now, you might be saying, how could this be? How could Otto Underhill, with everything he wanted, everything that voice of reason that he so cautiously listened to said would be his, within his grasp, just with one silver penny cast it all away? Have I not told you, twice at least, of the love that hobbits, even Otto Underhill, have for their children? That love transcends wealth, overcomes greed and avarice, and yes sometimes even logic. I can only say that when Otto saw how Daffodil looked at him...no parent wants to see such disappointment on their child's face, and in that moment Otto would have stopped the sun from setting if he could to make his daughter happy. So, away went the voice as soon as the silver rang true. But what of that voice?

Away south rode those black-robed Men, but birds fly faster than horses can run, and to a tall tower, black and hewn by forgotten arts they flew, and found the master of the tower, but even they could not relay the news fast enough. He sat, on a throne perhaps, feverishly smoking pipeweed in cautious privacy, until a stormy cloud formed over his white head. From the first cracking of the ice to the last silver penny he had been with that fat, greedy little fellow just to be undone at the last moment by the eldest maid-child of Otto Underhill. He sighed, realizing that hobbits would take more than just a nudge to do his bidding. Still, it would be years before Otto Underhill would realize what he had truly paid for with that last silver penny, but pay he would, and dearly. But that is not our tale.

There was cheers of celebration and the stoutest hobbit lads of Staddle, after three attempts, finally lifted Otto up on their shoulders as his neighbors shouted "Hurrah!" He became quite the celeberty for a while, and found a different kind of wealth, as the widow Bolger had. Otto and his family sat at the head table with the Bolgers, and the party began promptly, with much fanfare and making of speeches, short, of course, in the best of hobbit traditions. As food was passed back and forth and merry making echoed across the meadow, old Husker the Miller came up to the Widow. He had sons, none of which took to the milling life, and it seemed to him that she had two strong boys that might want to learn a trade. He offered to take them on for a few pennies a month in pay, which looking at the excitement on her son's faces, she gladly accepted. It was in this way that the Bolger boys first learned a trade, which led in later years to buying the Mill and then another, and finally expanding into the freighting business, as their father had done. 'From Mill to Wagon to You, by Bolger' was a phrase long used in those days in Staddle.

The hobbit band played as well as any in Staddle, but by this time, as the hobbits danced to merry tunes, there came up from Bree a great crowd of hobbits and even some of the Bearded Folk, led by the Tinker, who was most anxious to see how things had turned out. The dwarves, cousins of the Tinker visiting from the Blue Mountains, had every manner of musical instrument with them, and it was no time before they challenged the red-faced hobbits in music and song. Now, I am no expert in the ways of the Dwarves, but I can tell you that no hobbit, how hard he might try, could out-do a dwarf in song or tune. Of course, there are those that tried, and while the party ended happily for most, 'Ringulf's Last Reel' became famous in Staddle as 'the Reel Perilous', and was long studied and unmatched. It was said that tune, played by a very happy and joyous dwarf, his beard long and flowing, was enough to set the hobbit band (who in fact did not take lightly to being shown up at their own party!) in trying to take up the tune and surpass him. Fiddle or fife were no match for a dwarven band, and it was said that splinters from Hobie Greenbrier's fiddle (said to have exploded!) were long cherished souvenirs.

It was while the dwarves played a gentle tune of the mountains that a certain hobbit (a cousin of the Brandybucks, in fact) who was up from Buckland on business, caught sight of the Widow Bolger. Taken as he was by her golden hair, he thought to introduce himself. He was recently widowed himself, for his wife had caught ill and passed away the winter before, and he had many young children to feed and tend to. I can tell you that she was just as taken by this Brandybuck as he was with her, and within a year they were married, and she went away to Buckland, and there spent many a happy year until the end of her days. Her boys stayed with the Miller, and then as they grew older lived in their old home until they both married and had families, and for years rented the hole very modestly to poor families, in remembrance of the kindness shown to them. The old hole stood for many years until it was consumed in the night of the Great Fire, in the year of the Troubles, when the South-men finally made their move against the Bree-folk. But that is not our tale, for this tale ends as happily as any could in Middle-earth.

Daffodil herself had a grand time, finally meeting that solicitor, and despite doubting his numbers, found him quite an engaging and learned fellow. He loved books as much as she did, and they talked and danced for most of the evening. Otto and Marigold watch the pair, under the party lights, and held hands under the table and shared a smile. It was while the moon dipped a bit in the sky, and the younger children began their yawns, that Daffodil gave her excuses for the evening. She would take her siblings to bed, but this night was like no other, for it was the very night that she was to meet the Ranger Mirimaran, and then go with him to see his people. She walked her weary siblings home, carrying little Andy, and after she and Josie tucked them in, she went quietly to her room. She changed in the moonlight, exchanging her fine party dress for a faded green shift and leather apron. She bound her thick locks back with a bit of cord, and while she hung up her party dress she had a most disturbing thought. It hung there, in the vastness of her old wardrobe, pale in the darkness, and for a moment it shimmered there, and then seemed to fade away. A thought crossed her mind that she would never wear that dress again. She shivered, and without a word closed the doors to the wardrobe. She shouldered her pack, fixed her long knife to her belt, and then carefully left a note on her bed that read,

"Dear Mother and Father!

Gone with a friend on a walk, promise to be back by Old Took's Night!*

Just joking, will be home soon!

At your service,

Daffodil Underhill of Staddle"

*a rough equivalent to Hallowe'en*

With that, she climbed out the round window, hid briefly as some of her neighbors staggered heavy with drink down the Lane, and then ran across the road, through the high hay, and into the Meadow, where she headed to Bent-bough. There, under the moon, it seemed that all the rabbits of Bree-land were dancing, and if you have never seen rabbits dance under the full moon, you spend far too much time indoors. She laughed, and then in the darkness of Bent-bough's great limbs glowed a red ember, and came the smell of sweet Old Toby.

"Oh, there you are!" she exclaimed, as a hooded and cloaked man stepped from the shadows, an old pipe in his hands. She ran to him and he dropped to one knee, holding her tightly.

"I thought I missed you!" she exclaimed, looking into the shadows of his hood. He tossed his hood back, his white hair glowing in the moonlight.

"Miss me? Not at all, my dear Daffodil, for you I'd wait for a hundred years!" Mirimaran stood up and looked across the Meadow at the party lights, the music from the dwarf band echoing in the night.

"What's this? The widow Bolger here to stay, and a party on top of that? This must be some of your doing, I would suspect", he said with a smile.

"More like my undoing", said Daffodil Underhill, with a chuckle. He took up her pack and slung it across his shoulders as he put a hand on hers.

"Well done, Ranger", he said, "much better than what we would have had to do. No tower of those folk would cast a shadow on this land. I would not want war on your doorstep."

"Nor would I", said Daffodil as they walked, "I hope that is the last we see of those South-men!"

"Perhaps", said Mirimaran, "but for tonight, at least, we have the moon and stars and a long walk ahead of us! Why don't you tell me the whole story, as brief as you can, of course."

"But what a tale it is!" she exclaimed, and then looked at the Ranger.

"What?" he asked.

"Your pipe", she said, lowering her voice, "I don't think that Bent-bough here might appreciate your smoking."

"Oh my!" exclaimed Mirimaran, tapping out the leaf, "is that his name? Well then, might be a relation, after all."

Daffodil smiled and took his hand.

"Is it a long walk to your people?" she asked.

"For my people, it has been a long walk", he said as they started, "but for us a short way, over the hills, and then to a wagon that waits for us." So they walked, and talked, under the dying moon, and behind them the music slowly faded, as did the party lights at the hole of the Widow Bolger, until they melted into the horizon, and finally joined the stars.

The End.
"Well, what are you waiting for? I am an old man, and have no time for your falter! Come at me, if you will, for I do not sing songs of dastards!"
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Ernildir
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Re: The Undoing of Daffodil Underhill

Post by Ernildir »

Hooray! Well done, sir!
And I saw heaven opened, and behold a white horse; and he that sat upon him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he doth judge and make war.
kaelln

Re: The Undoing of Daffodil Underhill

Post by kaelln »

Just wonderful! And once again, you remind me of a certain Oxford professor, a pipe in his hands and a twinkle in his eye!
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Mirimaran
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Re: The Undoing of Daffodil Underhill

Post by Mirimaran »

Thanks all for the kind words! Again, just trying to make a decent narrative out of the extraordinary life of Daffodil Underhill. Now, there is a final epilogue to this story, and it concerns the Bolger boys, Harry and Rorry. Read on!

Epilogue

Many years had passed since the night of the party at the hole of the widow Bolger. Both Harry and Rorry grew to be fine and proper hobbits, and as business partners became very successful. Both married and had children and grandchildren and started on greatgrands. Now, in the days of the Reunited Kingdom, in the Fourth Age, both brothers, white-haired and stooped with age, spent their evenings in the common room of the Pony, where yet another Butterbur kept his patrons happy.

They sat in front of the fireplace, the heat felt good on their old bones, and they would reminise about the old days, before the King returned, when they were boys. Often they thought about the night of the party, how their mother looked and the music that played all night long. Then, as the evening would wear on, their thoughts would turn to Daffodil Underhill, and of the last time they ever saw her. That awful night, when most of Bree-hill was on fire, and their mill in flames around them, they could still see Daffodil in their minds, her face black with soot, hair shining like a halo against the flames, looking into the mill to see if they were alright, and then running off in the night, a small bow in her hands. That was a night like no other, when all the Rangers had gone away, all save one, and the South-men assaulted Primrose Lane and were met by the hobbits of Staddle, and trees walked. A night of sorrow, and a morning of hope, but no one in Staddle ever saw Daffodil Underhill again.

Outside the cold wind whipped and blew, and the heavy main door opened and a party of Men came in, wrapped in heavy wool cloaks. A small boy led a very old Man to the fireplace and helped him sit. The boy nodded at the hobbits and then ran off to get the old man some hot tea.

"A very cold night", said Rorry to the old Man.

"Aye, yes it tis", said the old man, staring into the fire, warming his hands. "Cold and cruel it is, in a wagon all day long, but now finally in Bree. You be hobbits, I reckon."

"Why yes", chuckled Harry, "hobbits we are, and Bolger by name. Harry Bolger, and my brother Rorry, at your service."

The old man's eyes suddenly swept from the fireplace to stare at the brothers.

"Bolger, did you say?" Then he smiled a toothless grin.

"Why, yes. Perhaps you know the name, sir?"

"Know it?" the old man laughed, "why, indeed sir. I know the name, and well. I have heard it all my life, and that name among my folk sounds strange, a bit of a curiosity and a bane in younger days, but among my family held in great esteem. Know it, yes."

At this both Bolger brothers set down their pipes and leaned towards the old man.

"How do you know the name, sir, if among your folk you do not know of hobbits?"

"Oh, hobbits yes, but a hobbit, well that is a bit of a tale. Would you care to hear it?"

Harry and Rorry looked at each other, wondering if the old Man was a begger looking for coin, or just out of his head, but finally Harry said,

"If there is a tale you have for us, we would hear it."

The old man nodded and began.

"It was in my grandfather's time, when he was still but a babe, that many of those who lived south were forced to move to the north and west. The winter was cold and harsh, the wind outside nothing compared to the scream that was said to blow down from the north. The wagons moved slow, until finally at the banks of the frozen Greyflood they stopped. The bridge was in ruins, and a gamble was made that the ice across the water be safe enough for the wagons to cross. It was decided that all the children be carried last. Across the icy Greyflood went the wagons, and when the last wagon full of children was halfway across, there came a loud crack, and the wind sounded like the cackle of an old man, it was said. One of the wheels sank down into the water, and the coward driver leapt off and ran even as the cracks widened, and the children screamed as the horses began to panic and slide. But before the wagon could go down into that icy water, there ran across the thin and cracking ice a half-man, our people did not know the word hobbit at that time, a teamster from the Bree-land it was said, and he raced to the panicked horses and grabbed the reins."

At this Rorry gripped his brother's arm, and he could only guess who the old man was talking about.

"A master of horse and wagon, that hobbit was, leading them out of the crack, keeping them calm, guiding the wagon towards the shore. Suddenly, as the horses found sure footing, and the wagon pulled to safety, the ice around that hobbit shattered like a hammer struck it, and down he went, down into the icy water beneath. All the menfolk tried to save him, and searched the river for days, but they never found him."

The old man lowered his eyes.

"One of the menfolk went on and carried a bit of gold for that brave hobbit, for if not for him those children would have died, and me and mine would not be here today. He is held in high esteem among my folk, and his name passed on."

Then he told them something that caused both brothers to hurriedly give their pardons and leave, and that very night they took the coach to Buckland, and in the early morning they sat together for the last time as brothers in that life, at the final resting place of their mother. Rorry had his toy wagon with him, dented and repaired many times over the years, the paint faded and chipped from play of many Bolger children. They sat and remembered their mother, and especially their father, and for both of them the pain from many years ago was finally wiped away.

So what did the old man tell the Bolgers?

The young boy returned with a cup of hot tea.

"Ah, that's the thing, it tis", said the old man as he sipped at the tea.

"My grandson", he said to Harry and Rorry, "My boy, please tell these esteemed hobbits what name of honour we both share."

The boy, with a wide smile, faced the brothers and exclaimed,

"Why Bolger, of course!"
"Well, what are you waiting for? I am an old man, and have no time for your falter! Come at me, if you will, for I do not sing songs of dastards!"
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