Rose Goodchild had just begun to snuggle under the covers in her and Gilly’s room, when her thoughts were interrupted by Gilly’s excited jabbering down the hall. “What now?” Rose grumbled to herself, but a smile played at the corners of her mouth. Since Pio had first thrown them together in the same bedroom, Rose had grown very fond of her companion. Gilly’s thirst for adventure and the unknown reminded Rose of herself not so very long ago, and it was quite flattering to have such a ready audience to her stories of the Lonely Star and the adventures the crew encountered.
Throwing the covers back and wincing a little as the chilly night air brought goose bumps to her bare legs, Rose sat up and pulled on a dirty pair of work pants and floppy shirt that were lying handily on the floor. For once, the young hobbit thanked her friend for being messy; it kept her from searching around in the dark drawers.
By the time Rose arrived at Pio’s doorpost, Gilly was nearly done with her story, still
breathing hard from excitement. Pio was looking particularly grim, one hand resting protectively on her swollen belly, the other gripping the doorknob tightly and in the background, Mithadan was lacing up his boots. From what she had overheard, Rose was able to piece together a rough portrait of what had happened. Her stomach fell and felt sickeningly hollow as she thought of the poor hobbit babe.
A few hours later, she was leading a party of hobbits through a patch of woods near where Fosco disappeared. Mithadan had led Rose and the rest of the volunteers from the inn to Bag End where they met up with Maura. Weapons, mostly farming tools and rusty relics untouched for time out of mind, were handed out and the gathered hobbits were split up to search for the babe. Rose was surprised to see she was not the only female hobbit present; a few young lasses had come out. They had not yet started their own families, but the thought of their Fosco, lovable rascal that he was, in bandit’s hands made them almost fierce with a motherly protection. There was even, to Rose’s great amusement, a determined hobbit grandmother with flashing eyes and a cane that seemed a suitable weapon against bandits and mischievous hobbit children alike!
So far, however, the search had been fruitless. Rose still tried to keep her sleepy eyes alert, peering intently through the darkness, but hope seemed to be fading as the pale light over the horizon grew stronger. There did not seem to be much more the hobbits could do that night, and the bandits, if indeed it had been bandits, would surely have carried Fosco far away by now. An exasperated sigh escaped Rose’s lips and she shivered slightly from the chilling dew. She had forgotten to bring a jacket. The woods thinned and a road became visible. Rose could dimly see smoke rising from Angelica and Merimac’s home, and she began to trudge in that direction. Her head hung low from exhaustion and discouragement. and her hazel eyes closed wearily. Upon opening, they gazed, half unseeing, upon a small handkerchief blowing in the morning breeze. The young woman stopped, thinking hard for a moment and trying to comprehend what it was she was seeing. Then, with a sudden movement, she snatched up the bit of cloth and began tearing wildly down the lane towards the curl of smoke. After so much searching, Rose simply knew that this must be some clue to the hobbit child’s disappearance.
[ April 13, 2003: Message edited by: theWhiteLady ]
[ April 14, 2003: Message edited by: theWhiteLady ]
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