Chapter Text
Frodo sighed sadly as he heard his daddy come home. He knew what was going to happen before his daddy even made it through the front door and resigned himself to another night spent hiding behind the couch.
He looked at his mummy, who was once again staring at the wall, her medicine having made her act like she couldn’t see anything, not even Frodo. He stood and went to grab one of the few snacks that were in their kitchen (not that there was much money; Frodo had heard Daddy say that Mummy spent it all on her medicine, and he had heard Mummy say Daddy spent it all on his beer). Frodo didn’t know which one of them was telling the truth, but he had learnt early on not to question either of them lest they smack him for his trouble.
With that thought, Frodo grabbed his cuddly snake, the only present he ever remembered receiving, and slowly hid himself behind the couch, ready to sing to himself softly when Mummy and Daddy’s voices got too loud and the words they said to one another got even meaner than usual.
“You are such a chauvinistic pig, no better than a man!” Frodo heard Mummy yell after a few other things she couldn’t hear. He sighed as he ignored the tears falling down his face, knowing he was going to be stuck behind the couch for hours and hours, and he really needed a wee but didn’t dare move in case Daddy thought he was being rude and listening to things he shouldn't be listening to. It wasn’t like he could help it, Frodo thought as he cuddled his snake closer. He usually slept on the couch, and Mummy and Daddy had the bedroom. He had nowhere else to go and no one to talk to; he hadn’t even started school yet, so he couldn’t even hide there during the day.
Frodo suddenly felt his entire body jump as he dropped his snake to cover his mouth when he heard Daddy hit Mummy. Frodo had seen it enough times to know how Mummy’s head would fly backwards, and she would launch herself at Daddy, trying to scratch him like the feral cat Frodo sometimes tried to pet.
He hated this; he hated the word "daddy" being shouted, hated the way Mummy was screaming and shouting, and, more than anything, he hated that he was stuck here. That nobody had come to take him away, like what happened in his fairy tales. He hated that this was his mummy and daddy and not someone like his old friend Sam, his friend from before they moved here, far away from anyone who would hold Frodo close and tell him they loved him. Sam had a nice mummy and daddy. They never shouted, and Frodo had seen them kissing and cuddling Sam tightly.
Frodo wished he had Sam’s mummy and daddy, but he also knew that wasn’t fair to Sam because if Frodo had the others’ mummy and daddy, then Sam would be stuck here with Frodo’s mummy and daddy, and Sam didn’t deserve that. Frodo did, though; he knew he was a bad boy, a greedy boy who always wanted more. More love, more kisses, and more food when his tummy said it was still hungry. Mummy had told him often enough that he wanted too much, and it was why he was so hard to love and why she and Daddy didn't cuddle him.
He grasped his snake even harder, trying not to be heard as he sobbed his aching heart out, as he heard Daddy’s voice get even louder from the other side of the couch.
“You are such a bitch. I never should have married you or had that brat. I’d be better off dead!” Frodo heard Daddy scream. Daddy seemed even angrier than usual. Frodo hadn’t known that was possible, but Daddy was proving that yes, he could shout even louder than Frodo thought, and he could scare Frodo more than ever before.
“Well, if it hadn’t been for me or my family’s influence, you never would have gotten out from under the thumb of that old hag you call a mother,” Frodo’s mummy screamed back.
Frodo hid his head in his knees, having secured his snake in his arms so it was safe too, and he squeezed his eyes closed as tightly as possible, wishing he would wake up from this nightmare, this nightmare that was his entire life.
Frodo suddenly covered his ears with his hand when he heard Mummy scream, a high-pitched thing that rattled Frodo to his very bones. Mummy often shouted and raged, but she never screamed, not like that. He stayed there hidden as he heard Daddy apologise over and over again before he let out a choked breath.
Frodo had no idea what had happened, but he knew Daddy’s sharp breathing had stopped. He didn't dare go look, though, knowing that Daddy would happily take his anger out on Frodo if he did so. Instead, he stayed there hiding, his eyes closed and his hands covering his ears. He could almost pretend he could hear someone whispering to him quietly, promising him that everything would get better and that he was sorry that Frodo had had to endure this pain.
At some point, Frodo must have fallen asleep with the deep voice in his ear, helping him to feel safer than he knew he should feel with both Daddy and Mummy suspiciously quiet. His eyes got droopy, and his snake was nestled in his arms, and Frodo knew no more until a man awoke him, slowly reaching out to him.
Frodo couldn't help but recoil in fear. The man was big, much bigger than Daddy, and his fists were huge. Frodo knew Daddy’s fists hurt, and he was sure this man’s hands would hurt more if he decided to hurt Frodo.
The soft way the man talked to Frodo and the way he asked if he could pick up Frodo helped Frodo feel a little less scared, though not a lot.
Frodo knew he didn’t really have much of a choice anyway, as the man was a grown-up, and grown-ups told kids what to do all the time, and if you didn't listen, you got Daddy’s fist or Mummy’s slaps until you did.
Still extremely nervous, Frodo held his hand out to the man, not letting go of his snake with the other, and he was picked up. He couldn't help the little squeak of fear he let out when the man stood to his full height. Frodo was far, far away from the ground, but he bit his lip and knew better than to say anything.
The man told Frodo to close his eyes as he walked out of his house. Frodo was going to listen, but something red caught his eye before he could. He kept quiet but couldn’t stop the tears falling down his face when he saw Mummy in a pool of red. Frodo knew it was Mummy’s blood. He had seen Mummy’s and his own blood often enough when Daddy was in a bad mood. Not too far away from Mummy, Daddy was in another pool of blood, but he had a knife in his belly.
Frodo asked the man why Daddy had a knife in his belly, and the man holding him swore before his hands curled tighter but still gently around Frodo as he rushed them out of Frodo’s front door, unsure what to say to the faunt as he looked at the man with wide eyes and a look so world-weary it hurt the man’s heart.
“It’s all going to be ok, little one,” the police officer said, introducing himself as Aragorn. “We are going to a special office where there will be a lady elf; her name is Arwin, and she will explain everything. Can you wait that long for an explanation?” Aragorn asked.
Frodo nodded his head, aware that he should stay still and that he should stay silent. This man was much bigger than his daddy, and his hands were large enough to make Frodo bleed as much as Mummy had in their home.
Instead of saying anything, he cuddled his snake and allowed the man to carry him. Frodo hadn’t realised how exhausted he had been from Mummy and Daddy’s fighting again, and so he allowed himself to drift off to sleep, hoping that the man would be kind to him. Hoping that when he awoke, his world would be a little better and he wouldn’t have to hide behind the couch anymore.
Frodo had been unable to believe it when the elven lady had explained everything. Yes, he was sad his mummy and daddy were dead, but more in a confused way. After all, the smial he had been sent to may have been loud and chaotic and more than he wanted to deal with most days, but there was also no indication that Mrs Cotton would hit him or refuse to feed him, and she kissed Mr Cotton on the cheek and told all of her children she loved them more than once a day.
Frodo had been unable to believe it, that these were just nice people, and so he made sure to keep still and keep as quiet as he could, not wanting to make them mean as he had with his own daddy.
He was often sitting in the corner of the kitchen, waiting quietly for the other foot to drop, but no, Mrs and Mr Cotton just seemed to be nice, which made Frodo wonder why his mummy and daddy couldn’t have been nice to him. It made him wonder if it was all his fault that his mummy and daddy hadn’t cuddled him and loved him the way Mrs Cotton seemed to do for all 4 of her children. Frodo was only one little infant, and he had been too much for both his mummy and daddy to love properly, and so he sat quietly in the corner, not making a nuisance of himself, not asking for anything and using the best manners that his mummy had taught him before she started sleeping all day and using medicine all night and fighting with his daddy all the time.
It was when Frodo was sitting quietly in the corner, all but forgotten for the moment, that he heard Mr and Mrs Cotton talking quietly between themselves.
“Yes, they will be coming over tomorrow. As lovely as he is, the boy can’t stay here much longer. He needs more than we can give him,” Frodo heard Mrs Cotton say.
Frodo hugged his snake to him as tightly as he possibly could. He knew it was his fault. He knew everything was all his fault; after all, if it wasn’t, Mr and Mrs Cotton wouldn’t want to send him away. Maybe they were worried that Frodo would make them mad and sad and bad. Maybe they were worried that if he stayed, they would become bad like his mummy and daddy. Frodo was many things, lonely and heartsore to name but a few, but he was also a sweet, compassionate young faunt, and if him leaving meant that Mr and Mrs Cotton would carry on being nice to their own children, well, he would leave and hope that whoever Mrs Cotton was talking about wouldn’t be worse than his own mummy and daddy. If they were the same, well, he would be used to that, but Mr and Mrs Cotton’s children weren’t, and Frodo knew that it wouldn’t be fair for them to have to live in the same kind of fear he had ever since he could remember. Frodo was much too young to understand that it was not the way he should have lived either; all he knew was that he could make sure these nice children had a mummy and daddy who loved them, regardless of what happened to him.