Author: nomsnickers PM
The very same day Gandalf visits Bilbo for the first time seeking someone with whom he can share in an adventure, a brave clueless teenager falls headfirst into Bilbos life, seeking an adventure of her own.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Friendship/Humor - Bilbo B. & Gandalf - Chapters: 2 - Words: 4,600 - Reviews: 14 - Favs: 9 - Follows: 24 - Updated: 08-27-12 - Published: 08-22-12 - id: 8456318
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I predict a great rush of Hobbit fanfictions with the films, [and exceptionally attractive Kili and Fili] only a couple of months away, I thought I'd get in there and try a story before theres twenty zillion of the same ones - based on the books obviously :)
I own Pet, JR TOLKIEN owns Middle Earth and all that comes with it :(
"and if one green bottle, should accidentally fall, there'll be fourty-four green bottles sitting on the wall."
bang bang bang.
"Finally." A young girl murmured, pulling herself quickly up off the ground where she had slowly sunken down to, during the last ten minutes in which she'd been singing. The girl hurried to the door across the room turning the key and pulling it swiftly open.A tiny blob emerged immediately throwing itself into the girls outstretched arms, not waiting for an invitation.
"Aw, I'm sorry Rich. I shouldn't have said we should go up there, I should have thought of something else..." The girls face crumpled in regret as the tiny shivering blob raised his head pulling away from her.
"I...I wasn't scared you know!" The boy, Rich started "it was just...really, really...cold up there. Really freezing you know? And dirty, and...did I mention how cold it was?"
The girl had a time keeping a straight face, which the boy noticed with a frown.
"I wasn't scared Pet! Honestly. I just...didn't want to make you feel bad... for when you lose to me. How many bottles were left anyway?"
The girl hesitated the smile falling from her face as she watched the little boy in front of her bite the edge of his lip nervously. He had picked this up from her; lip-biting. She would miss his lip biting so, so much. She would miss him so, so much. How could she let him go? All she could think of was how much he needed her to look after him.
"Just four bottles left Richy" She lied easily, anything to light up his face.
"Really?" His smile did not disappoint.
"Really, my turn now I guess?" The girl hoped all her little brother could see was worry on her face. In all truthfulness, Petunia Clark (better known as Pet, to all but her stuck-in-her-ways Grandmother, Nana Clark) wasn't worried at all about what she was about to do. If she had been worried then she never, ever would have allowed her little Rich to do it, even if they had shaken hands on it. And deals didn't come much more serious than when sealed with a handshake.
No, Pet wasn't worried at all about what she was about to do. She was just worried about getting the right numbers of bottles, she could not after all allow her brother to lose to her in a battle that tested their courage, nor could she lose so severely that the credibility of the challenge was questioned.
Perhaps further explanation is needed, -and here it is!
Pet had found herself very worried lately, very worried indeed, and for good reason. Pet had spent the last nine years, since their mother had died looking after her baby brother, willingly of course. She couldn't imagine spending a single day without him at her side, let alone a week, a month, a year. And in a different house, in a different country.
Although Richard and Petunia Clark were both very Clark-ish and similar physically and in temperament in every way possible, from their naturally curious but kind personalities, bright blue excitable eyes, to their curly mousy-brown hair (which they kept at very different lengths) there was one substantial difference between them both, namely: their fathers. Everyone had always thought it scandalous, that their mother had never married after having Pet, quite unfairly really, as Pet's mother had thought herself madly in love with her first childs father and was over joyed at the thought of starting a family together, he was however...not and scarpered days after hearing the delightful news. But when Old Nana Clarks daughter had gone and done it again seven years later, well the local gossips were in their element.
Pregnant, again, this time with an Irish fellow I heard, runs in their family, got it from the fathers side mind you, Poor Mr Clarks relations! 'Aint no bad blood in Old Nana Clark...! You mark my words. I'll be keeping an eye on little Miss Petunia, when she's a wee bit older she'll find herself in as much mischief as her mother before her, you just watch and see!..
Though times had changed some since Pet was born in late december of nineteen fifty one. It was now nineteen sixty nine, people were going into space, everyone who was anyone had a television, and the Beatles were set to take over the musical world, the world was moving forward...except in Green-Birch Hollow.
Nearly nobody had televisions, and electricity was used scantily, only for fridges and such necessities. Forty percent of the population in Green-Birch Hollow were over Sixty and only Ten Percent were under the age of Eighteen. Unfortunately Pet and Richard both fell into this dwindling percentage, though Pet only had one year left before she was free.
It may as well have been the middle ages in Green Birch Hollow. Yes, Green-Birch was a very primitive village, always the same. The same people got older, the same places stayed the same, It was a decidedly boring place for a Seventeen year old to grow up, let alone a Nine year old. Anyway, I've drifted off my story...yes. The Clarks had gone from one of the most respected (and boring) families in Green-Birch to social pariahs after word of the second-fatherless pregnancy had gotten out.
Miss Clark died shortly after giving birth to her only son, and Old Nana Clark had raised her two grandchildren strictly and properly trying to stomp out any bad blood so they say, the only love either had received was from each other, which was just enough for them. Let the gossips gossip they use to say to each other.
Then this Mister Peacocks had come sailing in a month ago, claiming to be Richard Clarks father. He was Irish as it happened, Pet had often wondered how gossips got their accurate information, even with spying being excepted as common hobbies. Nana Clark had given in, without even giving the impression of resisting. Mister Peacocks had given Rich one last month in dreary little Green-Birch with his sister and grandmother before he swept him away across land and sea, probably for good.
Rich had taken it surprisingly well, being a little boy eager for fatherly love and adventure he had quite forgotten how completely alone his elder sister would be for the next year.
Pet had noticed her brothers behavior and resisted the urge to question him about it until the very last day they had to spend together.
On the thirtieth of april, Pet had taken her little brother aside, and asked him very calmly if he would even miss her at all, keeping the betray and hurt out of her face ad voice not wanting to upset him and cause an argument in their last few hours together.
Rich had done all the reassuring a nine year old could do, saying he was just being brave for her, and that she had to be brave now too. This quickly escalated into a playful quarrel over who was the bravest out of them both.
They'd decided the best way to test their bravery very quickly, they needed something simple, yet terrifyingly effective. What could be more scary than their Nana Clarks haunted attic? Nana Clarks haunted attic, that they were forbidden from entering under any circumstances?
And so after Pet had sneakily acquired a spare set of house keys and unlocked the thick rusty padlock securing the door, Richard has slowly and reluctantly opened it and climbed twelve steps into the dark, creaky, sinister attic, lasting an impressive fifty six rounds of ten glass Pet hadn't showed it she was starting to worry about him, she knew how afraid he was of the dark.
With a final affectionate finger to the nose and a wink at her baby brother, Pet turned and entered the thick, moldy wooden door that lead up a flight of stairs to the forbidden attic room. Despite being raised to be honest and respect rules Pet often had adventurous urges that could not be contained, it was therefore no secret that this was not her first trip into the upstairs attic, unlike Rich. Pet had been in the attic once before many, many years ago before Rich had even been born, before the padlock. Pet remembered little more than the gentle beating she had received over her grandmothers knee afterwards, for not doing as she was told.
If Pet had remembered everything that had happened all them years ago, there's little doubt she would have made it further than the eleventh step.
Pet made it however, considerably further than the eleventh step into the attic, as memories of her trip ten years ago hovered around the edges of her thoughts struggling to resurface. Perhaps part of her remembered everything that had happened them many years ago, that might explain why she found herself unknowingly retracing the exact steps her seven year old self had taken on her first trip to the attic. Past the boxes of photographs, the long forgotten furniture, all the way to the ancient book case that stood proudly in front of the only window, and source of light that the attic provided.
Pet stood for a few minutes scanning the shelves of dust covered books in front of her curious, as she took a hesitant step forwards a particular book caught her eye. A book that sat on none of the shelves among the others, this book lay half hidden on the very top of the book case only just within reach. Pet scrambled on her tip toes, fingertips closing around the bottom of the book, pulling it down towards her for a closer inspection.
The attic as far as Pet knew had not been entered for at the very least a year by her grandmother who had been searching ofr space to store dolls and toys that Pet had long since grown out of. Every item in this attic had thick layers of dust and cobwebs covering them, some items were in such bad condition they were indistinguishable. The condition of the book intrigued Pet immensely. It was in perfect condition, as if someone had wiped it down with a cloth that very morning, it was a pale gold color bearing many markings and strange letters that Pet recognized as neither English nor Latin.
Pet ran a finger down the spine of the unusual book examining the strange symbols, as her finger touched the foreign letters they started to glow and change. The letters turned and moved, disappeared and reappeared, twisting and morphing until Pet could decipher two large bold words, glowing brighter than any other words or letters before her.
"Middle Earth..." Pet breathed in wonder fingers clasping tightly against the side of the book, instinctively. As soon as her grip tightened around the edges of the book, she couldn't bring herself to loosen her grasp- literally. The book seemed as though it were glued to her very fingers. After a few seconds the book slowly stared to flash, to glow obviously. Heat rushed through Pets hands, still wound firmly around the books corners, against her will.
The heat overwhelmed Pet, she longed to call out, to scream for help but her mouth stayed firmly shut, the heat spread through her arms, her legs, her head; burning. She shut her eyes tightly trying again, to unsuccessfully detach herself from the accursed book. The golden book burned hotter still, and started to vibrate, as the book vibrated she too vibrated, her knees shook, her teeth clattered. And at last Pet could take no more, of the heat, the vibrating or the mere impossibility of it all. She felt the pain lessen, everything seemed to go dimmer and drifted farther away, until she willingly allowed the blackness envelop her.