By: Dana
Summary: Three of Lotho's housekeepers (and the fourth he never quite had).
Characters: Various OCs and a minor canon character (Daffodil Sandheaver, Holly Twofoot, Marigold Gamgee, and Dardo Grubb)
Pairings: None
Rating: PG
Warnings: Implications of sexual violence
Author's Notes: Dedicated to sophinisba. ♥
Series Index: In a Sunless Year.
Disclaimer: The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with J.R.R. Tolkien or New Line Cinema. Any and all characters and situations that have been borrowed are for the author's personal use only, and for the entertainment of others.

I.

Dillie's Da had died when she was very young (and her brothers had been younger), so it was left to her Ma to raise her and her sibs. Dillie always did the best that she could, for it was hard on her Ma, a burden, and she wanted to be a good daughter, and lighten that burden as much as she could.

She lived in Underhill, and her mother worked as housekeeper for the Bankses there: when Dillie was offered employment at Bag End, at the top of the Hill, she thought it too good to be true, and knew there wasn't anything better she could manage. So she took the job offered, and worked more for Missus Lobelia than she did for Master Lotho.

Master Lotho had a way of looking at her that made her feel dirty, and not just for the time she spent scrubbing the floors.

She didn't make it longer than Solmath. Lotho's company was bad enough, but his Men's even worse than that: but she held her head high, didn't go home in shame, for all the Men gathered out front Bag End laughed at her, jeered, as she went along.

Ma would understand.

II.

Holly knew her place, for she was working class, down from more generations than she could count: her grandmother had kept house for the Boffins of Overlook, and them fine-blooded gentlehobbits as they were. Perhaps Master Lotho weren't so fine-blooded as a Boffin, but he was still the Master of Bag End, and Holly was a no-nonsense, sensible lass, and one that knew her place, and she knew that counted more than it should ought.

She wasn't one for dreaming, or thinking her way into the clouds: when opportunity came, she took it, for she could think of no better job than working at Bag End. And not one that would paid better, either.

Mistress Lobelia didn't let her slouch in her duties, but Holly wasn't one for that, either, and she would clean until her fingers went numb. In honesty, Mistress Lobelia almost seemed to appreciate her industriousness. Almost. Holly wasn't one for thinking so highly of herself.

She went home, one Thrimidge day, with no thought of going back: she was sore all over, and weeping, and her bodice torn. Master Lotho had appreciated her for other reasons, and afterwards, had gone and thrown her to the wolves.

III.

In Forelithe Marigold took up employment at Bag End, and for all she spoke to them respectfully as she could, she did not think so kindly of Mr. Lotho and Mistress Lobelia, and sometimes wished she had nerve enough to tell them as was their due.

But she needed the coin, for she needed to do for her family, for she could not expect Daisy to do it all. And anyhow, it gave her something to think on, rather than worry too much about her brother, gone away, and Tom, gone away, too.

One Wedmath day, Mr. Lotho gripped her arm, told her, 'You need the coin, I know you do.' He grinned, and something cold twisted in her belly. 'You're a help for my mother, and I thank you kindly – but you ought to think about being better for me.'

It was true, she needed the coin: but then Mr. Lotho forced his kiss on her, grabbed for her bodice, and Marigold jerked away, shocked, and too frightened to even think.

She didn't strike him, and he didn't grab for her, and she stumbled from the kitchen, not looking back: she wept, shaking, frightened still. Mr. Lotho only laughed.

IV.

Dardo had heard a housekeeper was needed at Bag End, and he went there because there was no other work for him: he couldn't leave Hobbiton, for his mother was bed-ridden, ill, and his younger sister the only one there to tend her. He wasn't much of a housekeeper, but something was better than nothing, his Dad had always said: and he was something, at least.

It was Halimath, and Mr. Lotho wasn't alone in Bag End, though Missus Lobelia was gone: Dardo had heard something about her having been dragged off, herself, though he couldn't tell if that were true.

Dardo knew Mr. Lotho sided with Big Folk, and he'd thought he'd thought better of his own mother: as for Big Folk, Dardo hadn't ever seen two such as this. One of them, pale and dark with cruel, laughing eyes, told Mr. Lotho, 'I wouldn't think that one would bed you willingly,' and then he laughed with more than just his eyes.

'I ain't–' Dardo said, for he hadn't come for that: but Mr. Lotho gripped his arm, dragged him along, pushed him into one of the fine bedrooms, and then shut the door behind them both. Dardo turned, shouted, 'now, I ain't–', but Mr. Lotho stared him down, in a fury, said, 'If I wanted it, I'd give you no chance to say no.'

Mr. Lotho went to his desk, sat there, put his head in his hands. Dardo thought of a king, or other such figure, from stories he'd been told as a child, gone so far in his darkness that now he could only fall: and that was what he saw, when he looked at Mr. Lotho, the king of a stolen throne, a fallen figure, almost tragic. Dardo almost felt bad.

Almost.

Mr. Lotho's voice rasped, and he didn't give Dardo much chance to protest, once he stood, saying. 'Just suck me off,' he said, eyes glinting darkly. 'I'll see you're well-paid.'

Dardo needed the coin, so he did, and dark laughter mocked him, afterwards, as he fled Bag End: and as it was, Mr. Lotho didn't call on him again, and he didn't think himself brave enough to go himself to Bag End: when Bagshot Row was dug up, when the new mill was erected, he had other things to worry himself over, and so put Lotho Sackville-Baggins out of his head.