The Undoing of Daffodil Underhill

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Mirimaran
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The Undoing of Daffodil Underhill

Post by Mirimaran »

(as translated from her writings)

IT has been two weeks since the fight with the Bolger boys, and the black eye that Daffodil had received from Harry had finally faded, but not the memory of that night. No, it was still fresh in her mind, as vivid as the cries of her mother as Daffodil had returned home, her dress torn, her eye swollen and bruised, her little brother's words ringing as he recounted the fight with all the fanfare of a boy his age. But as her mother called for compresses and ointments and all manner of home remedies, Daffodil felt no pride in her actions. She lay on her bed in the dark, holding the compress to her eye, listening to her mother rant on the other side of the door, her father's pleas drowned out. She wished the rain would wash away everything; it was coming down in buckets by the time her mother finally went to bed, and that was when she heard the doorbell ring.

Daffodil stole out of bed, and creeping from her room, she peered around the corner to see her father at the open door, and three small figures drenched by the rain standing before him. Recognition made her gasp and cover her mouth, for it was the widow Bolger and her sons, Harry and Rorry!

"I came as soon as I heard, every mouth from Staddle to Bree telling me my sons were thieving and fighting! I am ashamed, Master Underhill, and come to ask your pardon", said the widow, her head down, her frayed dripping bonnet in her hands. Old Otto stood over her, his girth seemed to be enough to fill the round doorway, one hand holding his pipe, the other holding a steaming cup of tea.

"Ah, well, boys will be boys, Mrs. Bolger, and Daffodil, well, she is who she is. Think nothing of it. Of course, our business", he said, as if trying to find another word, "that still concludes in a fortnight."

The widow Bolger looked up, her graying yellow hair in strands over her face. Both her sons cowered behind her.

"I...I...will do my best to settle my accounts, Master Underhill. I have taken in work, I am sure I..."

Otto then smiled as he interrupted,

"That I am sure of, Mrs. Bolger, now if you don't mind my scones are getting cold. Good night."

The widow could do nothing but put her wet bonnet back on her head, and then the door closed. Daffodil ran as quick as she could to her room, and leaned out of her window to see the three small figures walking back down Primrose Lane, huddled in the rain, slowly making their way from the light of the house lamps to disappear into the darkness.

Daffodil had no idea what a fortnight meant to her father (and even more ominously to the Bolgers) but she knew what it meant to her. The old Ranger, Mirimaran, had promised to take her to the gathering of his people, at the behest of their Chieftain, and it seemed that nothing would stop her from making the trip. She had secretly circled the date on her calender in red (disguising the day with a well placed tea spill) but since no one really wanted to know what she was doing most times (in fear of finding out, Daffodil had a habit of talking long on short topics) she felt safe enough. She had a sturdy canvas pack, reinforced with leather, that she had stuffed with her essentials; paper, ink and quill, some food and clothing. She had been hiking most every day, and felt like she could stand the hardships of wherever they would be going, yet in her heart there was a dread, and she knew it was from her father's words. What would happen to the Bolgers when their time was up? She felt a sense of remorse, as if the fight just made things worse for the boys and their mother. Daffodil did her best to set it out of her mind as she rose that June morning, the warm sun spilling in the round windows of the best hole in Staddle. She dressed in her simple green dress and apron and went to breakfast.

Around the great table sat the family, Otto and her mother Marigold, her sisters Rose, Tulip, and Bonnyblue, and her brothers, eating as fast as Josie could set down the food. Otto Underhill was the richest hobbit in Staddle, and probably in all Bree-land, if hobbits took account of such things, but it was well known that he partook of all six preferred Hobbit meals, whether his family joined him or not. This morning Daffodil pushed her brother Baridoc down the bench and sat beside her father, as she was eldest. Josie set a plate before her full of eggs and bacon and she started to eat.

"Well, that does me good to see, my Daffy eating", said Otto, in a rare good mood at the table.

"At least that dreadful black eye is gone" said her mother, sipping at her tea, "and just in time, I might add."

"Time for what?" asked Daffodil, her mouth full of eggs.

"Why, that nice solicitor from Bree is stopping by today, he has business with your father. I thought it might be nice if you would be able to meet him."

Daffodil looked down at her food.

"What sort of business would he have here, Father?" she asked, putting down her fork.

"Oh, just a legality. I have to close an account today, and I want all the ink to be dried, so to speak."

Dread filled Daffodil's heart as she thought of the Bolgers.

"The widow Bolger's account?" she asked.

Otto seemed surprised at Daffodil's question.

"Why yes it is, Daffy. Why do you ask?"

"I overheard you talking to her the night of the fight, when it rained so dreadfully." The table suddenly grew quiet, her mother giving her an icy stare.

"Eavesdropping is bad manners, Daffodil", she said.

"I am sorry, Mother, but I had to listen! I know something is going on. Father, what is going to happen today?"

Otto took Daffodil's hand and smiled at her.

"My Daffy, this is the way of the World. We all must pay our share; if we go into debt we are honour bound to repay that which is borrowed, and if it cannot be repaid then an account must be settled. The Widow Bolger came to me some time ago and borrowed against her hole and property. She cannot pay me what she owes, so she must forfeit that which she borrowed against."

"What?" cried Daffodil, "What are you saying?"

"That the solicitor is coming today, and then we and the Watch will go to the Widow and, well, I am sure she can make arrangements in Bree for herself and her rabble. I hear she has work there."

"She takes in the laundry of the Big Folk, that is what I hear", said Josie, stirring up porridge.

"Dreadful", said Marigold, "what a way for her to end up. I could have told you so."

"But, can't she stay, just a little longer? Can't you rent her the hole, or something, Father?"

Otto patted Daffodil's hand.

"If only it were so, my daughter, but there is a party interested in that property, very interested, and very rich."

He stood up, hooking his fingers in the pockets of his fine waistcoat, puffed up with pride and self-importance and said,

"When I close this deal, everything will change, for us, for Staddle, for all of Bree-land. We are bringing peace, progress, and prosperity to Staddle, and for us, the finest hole in the West, nay I say, the World!"

The children clapped, but even Marigold set down her tea cup and looked at her husband with a suspicious eye.

"My dear Otto, what do you mean? That hole is as plain as any in Staddle, what hobbit would pay so much for so little?"

Otto smiled as if his wife had made a joke, and then lifting his tea cup to his lips, said,

"The South-men".
"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 »

Yay! More Daffodil!
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 Greg »

Woo hoo! Loved it!

Though, Ken, I daresay our mischievous little hobbit may be responsible for undoing more than herself...
Now the sword shall come from under the cloak.
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Re: The Undoing of Daffodil Underhill

Post by kaelln »

I sense some adventure a-coming! Love, love, love Daffodil
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Re: The Undoing of Daffodil Underhill

Post by Ringulf »

Excellent writing Miramiran! very engaging! :mrgreen:
I am Ringulf the Dwarven Woodsman, I craft leather, wood, metal, and clay,
I throw axes, seaxes, and pointy sticks, And I fire my bow through the day.
Come be my ally, lift up your mead! We'll search out our foes and the Eagles we'll feed! :mrgreen:
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Re: The Undoing of Daffodil Underhill

Post by Mirimaran »

Many thanks, friends! I do love my Daffodil, and she will be getting knee deep in trouble soon! Hope to have more up this weekend!

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 BrianGrubbs »

Can't wait, this was a great read!

Brian
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Re: The Undoing of Daffodil Underhill

Post by Mirimaran »

Read on....

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The shocked silence of the kitchen was only broken by Josie, who had dropped her mixing bowl to the floor, where it shattered.

"The South-men?" Marigold was visibly shaken. "The Big Folk, those Men, here in Staddle? Otto, for heaven's sake, why?"

Otto seemed pleased with himself. Daffodil sat stunned. She had seen those men; black clad, dark beards oiled and bound in silver and gold gather in Bree, and once their chief had come to call on Otto. His horse was like a giant, black as the robes of his rider, and Daffodil could see nothing in the Man's eyes but darkness. This was the sort of Man her father would bring to Staddle!

"Well, they liked the view, from what I took of the conversation. I mean, I don't understand their words amongst themselves, but gold is the tongue of all, as the saying goes."

"The view?" asked Daffodil, "Father, all you can see from there is the Road, and the meadow..."

Daffodil's words trailed off, and she withdrew her hand from her father's.

"Father", she asked slowly, "what do they intend to build?"

Otto sat back down with a heavy sigh. He reached for another scone, and dabbed it with honey and butter.

"I am not sure, most likely one of their towers of brick and stone. They seemed to want to see all of the land before them."

"But the Meadow, that's not going to be theirs, is it, Father?"

Otto chuckled.

"Yes it is, my dear, that meadow goes with the hole."

Tears welled in Daffodil's brown eyes.

"But...but Father! It's The Meadow, where the children play! Wherever will they go, when it is sold?"

Otto stuffed his mouth and between bites said,

"Daffy, children play wherever they can. My goodness, the things you worry over!"

"Well, what are they going to do with it?" Marigold looked sternly at her husband. She exchanged a glance with her daughter, and for one of the few times in her life Daffodil felt as if her mother was on her side.

"They plan to build a great Works", he said, "a place of industry. They have plans for the North, you see, great plans, and we are very, very lucky to be included in them. There will be those who oppose such a vision, I suppose, but they will come to see the wisdom of it, come to hear the voice of reason."

Daffodil's face became a mask of anger.

"The Rangers will stop this! The South-men will not be allowed to invade our home!"

Otto laughed.

"Those raggy beggars? Why, just yesterday I heard in Bree that they all are gone, heading off to who knows where, and besides, by what right do they demand or enjoy any authority over us? It is all legal, my dear, every bit of it. I have been careful of this. The Widow Bolger has until sunset to settle her considerable debt to me, and if she cannot, then to the South-men goes her property. It's the way of things."

Daffodil hung her head and sighed.

"How much?" she asked.

"Eh?"

"How much does she owe you?"

Otto looked up at the ceiling, doing his math.

"Oh, by sunset, I reckon a hundred silver pennies, give or take."

Marigold's hand flew to her mouth. A fortune, indeed!

"My goodness", she said to herself, "I had no idea."

Daffodil's hands balled into fists, the hot tears beginning to flow as the frustration of defeat grew over her.

"Daffy", he said softly to her, "the World changes, whether we like it or not, and when change comes, we have to accept it. You're growing up, you have to let things go and accept the World for what it is. When this sale is done, you will the most eligible Hobbit lass in all the land, and suitors will come from all over, even the Shire, I reckon, to win the hand of the daughter of Otto Underhill."

Daffodil looked up at him, anger flashing in my eyes.

"I am no Beauty of Bree, Father, for you to make Staddle into your pig pen!* Do not include me in your excuses, your justifications, you are a fat, greedy, uncaring poor excuse for a proper hobbit, and I am ashamed to be your daughter!"

With that she flew from the table, running through the hallway, and out the round door.

The Family Underhill sat stunned for a moment, and then Otto, visibly shaken, said,

"Pass the bacon, please."

Daffodil ran outside, across Primrose Lane, through the high hay, and into the Meadow beyond. It stretched far, like a sea of green, and not much grew there, just rolling grass and small blue flowers, but in the center of the Meadow there was one lone tree, tall, ancient, his limbs spreading into the sky, his trunk so wide it became a game among the children to see how many of them it took to ring around it. She ran to the tree, and fell to its thick roots, and there she curled up and cried for what seemed forever. She clung tightly, for she knew that even this mighty tree would soon be gone, falling to the cruel iron axes of the South-men.

There seemed to be a breeze, for Daffodil heard a creaking, a bending of branches, a sway of the wind, but there was a sound, and then...

a voice!

"Haroooommmmm hummmmmmmmm", came the deep rumble, as if the earth had awoken under her.

"Who, who is there?" she asked, sitting up quickly, afraid.

"Many years have I stood here, long and lonely and time has forgotten old Bent-bough, but sleep, timeless and filled with dreams, I cannot sleep with such sorrow at my feet. I have heard the cries of scrapped knees, and ill doings, and all manner of hurts, but you, child of the West, your hurt runs deep, from what water does such pain draw?"

Daffodil gasped as she looked up, and a face of sorts, twisting in bark and leaf, looked down at her! Huge eyes blinked open, and a crack like a mouth ran under a huge nose-like knot.

"I....I....who, what are you?" she managed.

"Why, I have said my name, have I not? But I shall give it again, slowly for you", he intoned, like stone being dragged across the earth, "Bent-bough I am called, and I have stood here since before the Old Forest fell away, watched over my trees and shrubs, watched the Great Men come over the Sea, and gather here with those who awakened us in the First Days, under fluttering banners of blue and silver, the tips of their spears like the stars alighted to earth, and I watched them march away to the blackened East, and never return. Others came, and went, but still old Bent-bough stood, and grew tired, and slept, and dreamed."

Daffodil stood up, dusting off her apron.

"But what ARE you?" she asked, "a talking tree?"

"Tree indeed!" he boomed, "I am an Ent!"
--------------------------
* The Romance of the Ranger and the Beauty of Bree, a minor song in those days.

In the village of Bree
there lived a girl
like no other in bree-land
a beauty like no other
fairer than all the maids
from Bree and around
hair so brown, eyes to match
skin so pale and like cream
this girl so much the blossom
this flower in a field of weeds
her father made proud and vain
decided to make sport and called
for suitors for his daughter's fair hand
and in this way a farmer of pigs became rich
and made Bree like his pen, and young men
came in droves, each wanting to win the hand
of the Beauty of Bree.
"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 Eric C »

Glad to see more of the tales of Daffodil!
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Re: The Undoing of Daffodil Underhill

Post by Mirimaran »

Few things caught Daffodil by surprise, but she was at a loss for words! Finally she managed,

"Well, how do you do? I am Daffodil Underhill, of the Staddle Underhills."

Bent-bough gave as close to a nod as he could, making his thick green leaves sway and rustle.

"I know you, Daffodil, for I hear the children call your name often. Most come to me for shade and rest, others bring their sharp knives to leave their mark upon my skin, but you come and sit and read, and tell long tales and truth be told, I admit to reading over your shoulder a time or two, and listening here and again."

Daffodil gasped, thinking of all the times she curled up in the great roots of Bent-bough, a book in her hands, as the small children gathered around her, listening to her tales of brave hobbits and days of long ago.

"But, didn't you say you slept?"

"Slept, dozed, drowsed, it is all the same to me, two eyes closed or one eye open. Time passes for me by sun-up and sundown. A blink of my eye sees a child turn to man and then to dust. For you, I blink often."

Then he gave what seemed like a laugh, a rolling creaking of wood, and Daffy knew that he had made a joke.

"Oh my", she giggled, "I am honoured, sir", and then she curtseyed.

"So, what troubles you then, child of the West?"

Daffodil's face grew grave. She told old Bent-bough everything; about the Bolgers, the debt, those who would come to destroy the Meadow, and him along with it. Finally she sighed and said,

"So, I don't know what to do. The Rangers are all gone up north, and the only one I know will not be here until tonight, and that will be too late." She sat heavily on one of Bent-bough's roots and cupped her chin in her hands.

Bent-bough nodded.

"Such a hard thing, yes. I don't think I could move away now if I wanted to. Rooted too deep, I am, good water and stone here, and I like my neighbors. Sad, yes."

They sat there for a while, the summer breeze coming slowly as the sun rose in the sky. Daffodil was deep in thought, her heart heavy, when a family of coneys came hopping from the tall grass, five small grey bunnies and the largest rabbit Daffodil had ever seen (in fact, the very rabbit she had saw the morning she had left the signal for the old Ranger weeks before).

"Well, look now! My neighbors come to play, Mother Rabbit and her kits!"

Bent-bough began to chuckle as the bunnies began to play under his shade. Even Daffodil laughed as they hopped in a circle around their mother, each stopping in front of her and clapping their paws. Finally, Mother Rabbit joined in, and the six of them danced in front of Bent-bough and Daffodil.

"Oh my, this is grand!", she said, her spirits lifting, "how they play, Mother Rabbit along with them! If only hobbit mothers and fathers could be like that, like their children, laughing and playing..." Suddenly Daffodil's brown eyes grew wider, as did the smile on her face.

"That's it!" she exclaimed, as she jumped up from Bent-bough's root. "I have it, a plan, not much of one, certainly, but still...out of my heart, despair! A slim chance is still a chance!" Then she took off running.

Bent-bough laughed.

"Now, that's the spirit, whatever it is, little hobbit!" The rabbits stopped and looked after her quizzically. Suddenly she turned back and curtseyed again.

"My thanks, Mother Rabbit! My pardon, Master Ent! I have work to do!"

With that, she sped off towards home.

There was silence for a moment, and then Mother Rabbit, who was in fact the Queen of all the Rabbits of the North, sat heavily on her haunches. Bent-bough dropped leaves, which the bunnies took up and began to fan her with. Finally, catching her breath, Mother Rabbit said, as Bent-bough nodded,

"Well thank goodness! I thought she'd never get the hint!"
"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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Brandwyn
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Re: The Undoing of Daffodil Underhill

Post by Brandwyn »

I love your writing! If you ever get the urge to explore Ranger's Apprentice world you should come over to Halt's Playground. We would love to have another good writer to interact with.

http://araluenrpg.proboards.com/index.cgi

I love Daffodil, she seems very much like my Rosey Bramble character I play in LARP - Realms of Adventure.

Great job!
Brandwyn
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Mirimaran
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Re: The Undoing of Daffodil Underhill

Post by Mirimaran »

Many thanks, Lady!

:)

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 »

Read on...

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

Daffodil ran across the Meadow, back through the the high hay and across Primrose Lane. She burst through the gate to the yard where her siblings were playing with Thain, who had grown sleek and fat from tablescraps (if you can imagine any scraps being left from the table of Otto Underhill!) and panting asked,

"Where are Mother and Father?"

Andy rubbed Thain's nose and said,

"Gone to Bree, Josie is minding us. Are you still cross with Father?"

"Yes, but that is not important right now! All of you, come here and listen. I need your help."

The children gathered to her quickly. Daffodil always came up with the best games!

"I want you to go into Staddle and find every boy and girl that you can, and have them bring their toys and anything they can play music with, and come here by noon!"

The children giggled and then Andy hushed and asked quietly,

"Every child?"

Daffodil knew what he meant and said,

"Not the Bolgers, Andy. Just do what I ask. Now, I must be going!"

Daffy ran inside the hole and into her room, grabbing her favorite hat and a small pouch that jingled. Josie looked from the kitchen with a puzzled look on her face, stirring a big bowl she held in the crook of her arm.

"Miss Daffy, where are you off to? Your father said that if you bothered to come home for you not to leave it until he gets in tonight!" Daffy waved her off as she headed for the round door.

"I'm just passing through, not coming home, so I can't stay now, can I? I have plans! I have to run!" and with that she was gone.

"Oh my", said Josie, watching her run out of the yard and down the lane, "I hope she knows what she's doing!"

So while Daffodil ran to Bree ( a feat worthy of a song, surely) her brothers and sisters gathered up the children of Staddle, every size and age standing on Otto Underhill's wide lawn. Even most of the older boys were there, mainly to see Daffodil as she was the prettiest hobbit lass in town, and probably in all of bree-land. So many had gathered, with all sorts of toys and flutes and fiddles and drums, that the din of bored children soon brought Josie out, and then she was bringing cool drinks and cookies. Finally, as some of the children were thinking of leaving, a red-faced and wheezing Daffodil ran up to the gate, covered in the dust of the road, and carrying a sack.

"For the love of all good things, something to drink", she gasped. Josie hurriedly gave her some punch, which she drank down and asked for more. Then she managed,

"Good to see you all today! I am happy to announce that we are having a parade!"

There were some cheers from the crowd and puzzled looks from others.

"Oh, not to worry, friends. We shall march through Staddle and then it's to the Meadow for an afternoon of fun and games!"

The cheering was louder as Daffy then arranged the group of children in an ordered mob and took her place at the front. They headed out, turning left at the gate, and on to Staddle, horns and drums and fifes playing in no particular tune but that which children can discern, but they sang a song that Daffy had come up with on her run to Bree, and to the best of my ability I have tried to render it as it was sung on that hot summer day long ago:

Here we come, come along
forget your work and play
Join with us and sing our song
be a child to-day!

Forget that mowing, don't worry about the hay
it won't stop growing, it will be there another day!
Put down that hammer, drop that nail
put down the brush, and drop the pail!

Come be as we, carefree and glad
be our friends for a while, come mum and dad!
remember when you first played, remember those summer days
in the Meadow green and wide, it's too nice to stay inside!

Here we come, come along
find your child and sing our song
march with us for all to see
that we all play merrily!

And so the children marched into the village of Staddle, their horns and fiddles and drums announcing their arrival, and mothers and fathers stopped at their chores and watched, smiling, at their children at play. So merrily they did play, that some of the adults did, in fact, stop their work (hobbits, industrious as they are, do, from time to time, find reasons to stop work and smell the roses, so to speak) and they joined in, to the laughter of their neighbors. But soon it seemed all of Staddle was singing and marching, parents finding their children and laughing on this long summer day (the longest of their year) and with a laugh Daffodil turned the parade so that they marched through the rest of the village, the singing now quite happy and boisterous. As they passed the lone ale-house of Staddle (the Old Ram, it was in those days) the rest of those who didn't care much for work anyway came out, blinking at the bright sunshine, their ears covered from the singing, but as ale does much to dull the senses (common sense as well) they staggered behind the crowd and did their best to keep the melody going, at least in spirit.

So, down the Road they went, dust billowing up as all of Staddle was now following the eldest daughter of Otto Underhill. Ahead of them was the bend that led to Bree, and then the cut path to the Meadow which beckoned just beyond. Suddenly Daffodil raised her hand and turned to the left, back onto Primrose Lane. The parade behind her, so caught up in the revelry, marched blindly onward, and it came as a surprise to everyone when Daffodil came to the rickety gate of the Bolgers, opened it, and marched down into the unkempt lawn!

Most of the adults stopped cold at the broken fence, but the children marched on, and surrounded Daffodil as she went up the the faded green door of the Bolger hole... and knocked!

The old door opened slowly with a creak, hands, red and cracked gripping the edge. Warily the Widow Bolger peered out, her graying blond hair damp with sweat, eyes pale and blue blinking at the bright sunshine and the gathering on her lawn. Behind her cowered in fear Rorry and Harry, the smaller boy gripping at her worn and faded apron.

"Well, what is it then? Has the sun gone down so soon? Does Otto Underhill send his eldest to do his dirty work now?" The widow shook as she spoke, as if she had not much left in her but her pride, and it would be the last to go.

"My pardons, Mrs. Bolger", said Daffodil with a curtsey and a smile, "for I...we... did not wish to startle you. The children of Staddle mean to have fun and games today in the Meadow yonder, they have all brought their most favorite toys, and we did an accounting and found ourselves short two Bolger boys!"

Behind her there was a gasp from the children, and Andy ducked behind his sister. Farther up at the Lane the adults didn't know what to reckon.

The Widow Bolger drew up, crossed her arms and stared hard at Daffodil. Now she trembled, for as little as the Widow Bolger had left in the world, she loved nothing more than her boys. Behind her Rorry and Harry lowered their eyes, for they had no toys left, and everyone knew it.

"Now I know this is some sort of prank, Mistress Underhill! Is it not enough for your father to drive us to ruin, that you would bring all these children here and...and..shame my boys?"

"Oh no, Mrs. Bolger! Nothing of the sort, ma'am! The children all have their toys today, all of them!" With that Daffodil opened the sack she was carrying, and the Widow Bolger cried at what she saw, and behind her Rorry gave a shout a joy. Daffodil gently held up a toy wagon, a sign reading 'Bolger and Sons' freshly painted on the side, the dings and scraps caused by the play of a small boy tenderly repaired. But what made the Widow sob a bit and wipe her eyes on her apron was the small figure that sat on the bench, hands gripping the reins of the great team of black horses, a perfect likeness of her late husband.

"I went to the tinker in Bree, and he didn't have the heart to melt it down, so he kept it", said Daffodil, "and I wanted to get it back for Rorry." The tinker (who as a young beardling trained at the Lonely Mountain) was a friend of Harriford Bolger, who was so tall that most thought him a beardless dwarf, and he remembered his old hobbit friend, and helped his family when he could. At night he worked on the toy, and carved the likeness of his friend, and thought of long past days.

"Can I have it, mum?" asked Rorry. The Widow Bolger nodded and as Rorry took the wagon there was a great cheer from the children.

"Harry and I might be a bit too old for toys, but we do love games, and if it is by your leave, Mrs. Bolger, I'd like for both of your boys to come with us today."

Rorry and Harry looked at their mother, and with a smile she motioned for them to go.

"Thank you, Mistress Underhill', she said, "please forgive my unkind words. Today of all days." With that she wrung her red hands in her apron.

"Not at all, Mrs. Bolger! Remember, the day isn't over yet!", said Daffodil with a smile, and gathering up the Bolger boys she led the children back up to the Lane, where the astonished adults stood.

"Alright now, here we go", she said to the children, "to the Meadow!' But as she marched she looked over at the mothers and fathers and sang,

"I think you can plainly see
that while we play merrily
that there's work to be done and hurry fast
before the day is gone at last!

Remember now that before you grew
there was a girl that you all knew
and she needs help, now more than ever
hurry now before she is lost forever!

With that, the crowd of children passed on and into the Meadow. There at the fence stood most of Staddle, not knowing what Daffodil meant, but they could see that the property of the Widow was in a sorry state. The fence was broken, the gate ajar, paint peeling and faded, the lawn overgrown with weeds. Now there stood there among the crowd a hobbit mother named Elly Pitchforth, who in her youth was a Greenbrier, and her best friend in those days was a girl with blond hair named Nettie Thistlebottom, who was the prettiest girl in Staddle in those days, and whose hand was tightly contested between the eligible gentlehobbits of the time. One, who was not so fat as he was now, was on the verge of getting the First Kiss from this hobbit maid when a brash and big hobbit came up from the Shire, a teamster who was a hobbit and a half, as most of the Big Folk would say. Harriford Bolger was his name, and when he first saw Nettie with the bright blond hair he swore he'd marry her, and he did, and time went on and she went from Mrs. Bolger to the Widow Bolger in one cold night, when a Man came to her door and gave her a little gold and his condolences at the death of her husband. The Widow Bolger stepped into the sunlight, a tired hand shading her eyes, and at the top of the Lane Elly Pitchforth looked down, and it was as if clouds had parted from her mind, for she saw her old friend, forgotten for so long in dusty memory, it seemed, and she looked so tired, so pale, her golden hair now dulled with worry and age. Elly sobbed, and burst through the gate so hard that it flew off its hinges.

"Nettie!" she cried, running down the overgrown cobblestones to the door. She came upon the Widow Bolger, and grasped her thin shoulders. Tears flowed down Elly's cheeks as she saw her old friend again, at what had become of her, what had been allowed to become of her, and then she held her close. Nettie felt stiff for a moment; it had been a long while that any of her friends had come to call, their husbands chuckling at rumours of gold being passed among the Bolgers. None to hold her in her grief; none to quell the sobbing in the middle of the night, as her boys tried to sleep with empty stomachs, clutching at her husband's pillow, wishing he was again with her and her boys. But now, as Elly held her close, her tears wet upon her shoulder, Nettie began to cry, sobbing and holding her friend tight, and knew that she was not alone.
"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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Greg
Urush bithî 'nKi ya-nam bawâb
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Re: The Undoing of Daffodil Underhill

Post by Greg »

Wonderful.
Now the sword shall come from under the cloak.
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Gondian
Silent Watcher over the Peaceful Lands
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Joined: Fri Sep 16, 2011 12:15 am
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Re: The Undoing of Daffodil Underhill

Post by Gondian »

This is an absolutely wonderful story! Can't wait to read the rest! How 'bout illustrations? What time frame are we looking at, before or after the War of the ring?
LOVE NOT THE BRIGHT SWORD FOR IT'S SHARPNESS OR THE ARROW FOR IT'S SWIFTNESS, BUT RATHER LOVE THAT WHICH THEY DEFEND
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