A/N: Sam and Merry are not friends at this point in my universe, due to a prank that Merry played on Sam in “Under the Harvest Moon” and various subsequent misunderstandings that followed it throughout the years.
 
 
 

A Day in the Life

Frodo is 39, Sam 28, Merry 26, Pippin 18 (about 25, 18, 16, and 11 in Man years)

Afterlithe 1408 SR

Part I
 
 

7:00 AM

Sam whistled as he made his way up the Hill to Bag End. The sun was already shining brightly and warmly, but a cool breeze kept the heat at bay. This would be a good day for gardening and for getting to that stone pathway his master wanted laid down between the smial’s back door to the well. The request seemed an odd one to Sam, but as his master can tend to be odd from time to time – though of course Sam would never say such to anyone – he didn’t put too much thought into it beyond what he would need to do the job. After all, if that was what his master wanted, then that’s what he would get.

Knowing that Mr. Frodo’s cousins were visiting, Sam became quiet as he approached the garden gate and slipped through. He did not want to awaken the young masters, who had arrived late last night and likely did not get to bed until the early hours of the morning. Normally, Sam would let himself in to start first breakfast, but knowing that his master preferred to do such things while there was company, he bypassed the smial’s front door and headed for the back of the gardens.

Sam padded silently to his tool shed – or Mr. Frodo’s tool shed as it was – and unlocked the shed door. He had been locking the door for many years now, ever since Master Merry and Master Pippin snuck in one time and sabotaged his tools, and while he figured it was safe now to leave it unlocked while unattended, he thought it better to err on the side of caution. There was no telling what those two might attempt from one moment to the next, and Mr. Frodo was fair certain that Master Merry would attempt to extract revenge on him for what had happened during Master Merry’s previous visit.

Sam pulled open the shed door, a grin tugging on the corners of his lips as he remembered Master Merry passed out drunk, wearing that pretty yellow frock with the flower print and delicate lace fringes. He knew it wasn’t proper to think so, but he had to admit that seeing Master Merry so perfectly hoodwinked had been more than a bit satisfying to him. It wasn’t often that Master Merry was bested in a prank, and that Mr. Frodo was able to pull it off without a flaw only made Sam admire his master all the more.

He stepped into the shed, chuckling softly. He would have to struggle to keep a straight face in Master Merry’s presence today, so he allowed himself to have his laugh now when there was no one about to witness it.

Sam rummaged through the shelves and drawers, looking for the tools he would need to complete the day’s work. He needed to water the lower gardens, weed the vegetable garden, deadhead the roses and trim back the berry bushes before turning all the compost heaps. Then he would be ready to start on the stone pathway.

He picked up the watering buckets and yoke first, locked up the shed and made his way to the well. Sam hummed softly to himself as he winched the water, poured it into the buckets and shouldered the yoke with practiced ease. He strolled down to the lower gardens, content and happy, complete with plans for the day to come, having no idea just what the day would be bringing him.

At the same time that Sam was preparing for his day, Merry was slipping out of bed and preparing for his own. He had a score to settle with Frodo and he needed to get started on his plans as soon as he could. He quickly stepped into some day clothes and, after checking next door to make certain Pippin was still asleep, he snuck down the tunnel and into the second pantry.

He had thought long and hard on how he would go about exacting his vengeance on Frodo and had even gone so far as to ask every lad in Brandy Hall for their best prank stories, refraining from mentioning who the pranks would be used on, of course. He didn’t want to explain why he had it in for Frodo. He had so far been able to keep knowledge of the prank away from Buckland ears and he wanted to keep it that way.

Doderic and Ilberic had come through nicely, both of the brothers having a variety of ideas, and Berilac was as sneaky as they come when he put his mind to it. Marimas wasn’t much help, however, and Gordibrand wouldn’t know a prank if it hit him on the bum. Still, Merry had many good ideas before spring’s end and he had spent the first half of the summer fine-tuning them for his own use. Any one of the pranks, or even any combination of them, were fair game. Frodo himself would be the main determinant of which ones Merry attempted. Knowing Frodo would likely be on his guard, Merry had accounted for that as well and was prepared to change his plans at a moment’s notice if necessary.

Merry reached the second pantry and searched the shelves for the things he would need for the day’s work: castor oil, jam, cream, honey, baking soda, butter. He made his way down to the cellar and selected an inexpensive bottle of wine. Next, he went into the sitting room, to hide his things while he went to fetch water, shampoo and soap. As he was making his way back to the sitting room from retrieving those items, he checked the small wardrobe in the kitchenette that Frodo used for his storage closet. Yes, broom and washing bin right where they belonged. Oh, and string too. That would come in handy later. He left those items where they were, then got down to business.

In his bedchamber, Pippin yawned and stretched, wrapped his arms around his pillow and fell back into deep sleep.

In his bedchamber, Frodo lay staring up at the ceiling, not wanting to get up but knowing he needed to. He had seen the unassuming and too-innocent look on Merry’s face the night before when he and Pippin arrived from Whitwell and Frodo knew he was in for a long day. He needed to get up before that cousin of his and try to keep on top of his every move as much as possible. It was no easy task staying one step ahead of that Brandybuck, but as Frodo was half a Brandybuck himself, he felt he was up to the task. Now, if he could just get up. Frodo forced himself out of bed, got dressed and went to check on his cousins.

Merry heard the knock down the tunnel and he swore silently under his breath. What was Frodo doing up so soon? Knowing it would just be a matter of time before Frodo found him, Merry quickly hid his loot in the linen chest and tiptoed into the tunnel as though he were coming back to his bedchamber from the bath, never mind that he wasn’t wet.

“Oh, good morning Cousin,” he greeted Frodo in the tunnel.

“Good morning, Merry. Up already?” Frodo replied.

“You know I’m an early riser, Frodo.” Unlike you.

“Yes, you never could sleep in late.” Not when you have something up your sleeve, at any rate.

“What can I say? I rise with the sun.” Oh that just sounded lame. Now Frodo’s going to suspect something.

“You do indeed.” Just what have you been getting into already?

“Well, I better go check on Pip. I’m sure he’ll be hungry when he awakens.” Maybe he’ll go make breakfast and leave me alone.

“I’m sure he will be. After you’re done checking on him, come into the kitchen and help me make breakfast.” There, now I can keep my eye on you.

“Of course, Cousin.” Drat it!

Merry then had no choice but to slip into Pippin’s bedchamber next door. He waited until the door was firmly closed behind him before swearing again, this time out loud. This was going to be harder than he thought. Why was Frodo awake already?! All his preparation time had just flown right out the window.

He waited until he could hear Frodo in the kitchen, then he snuck into his bedchamber and went over to his wardrobe, where he pulled out his satchel and study things. He could take these into the sitting room and use the excuse of studying to get some time to finish his preparations. He slipped out of his room, not wanting Frodo to know that he was finished “checking” on Pippin. He tiptoed silently down the tunnel, slipped into the sitting room, and placed his things on the tea table there.

“What are you doing in here?”

Merry whirled around, caught off guard. He had not heard Frodo’s approach. For his part, Frodo stood framed by the doorway, his face was a study of unassuming curiosity. Merry knew better.

“I was just putting my study things in here for later,” Merry replied, honestly enough. “Uncle Dino wants me to write an essay on Bucca of the Marish. It has to be ten pages long. Ten pages! I know he was the first Thain and all that, but doesn’t ten pages seem a bit extreme to you?”

“Dino made me write twenty pages. Consider yourself lucky,” Frodo said, not about to be sidetracked. “Come along, Merry. Let’s get breakfast started before we have our hands full of an extremely hungry Took.”

Merry smiled and nodded, then followed Frodo grudgingly. Frodo would come back to this room as soon as he could to try to find out what Merry was really doing in here. Frodo’s suspicion would make this all the more difficult, but Merry was not one to back down from a challenge.

They entered the kitchen and stepped around each other effortlessly as they prepared breakfast. When Merry went to the pantry to retrieve eggs, Frodo went with him to get flour. When Frodo went to fetch milk, Merry went with him to grab a basket of fresh blueberries. They didn’t let each other out of their sight for a moment, until breakfast was nearly made and Pippin came in, dragging his feet and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Good morning Pippin,” both cousins greeted in unison.

“Morning,” Pippin said as he stifled a yawn and sat down to await his food. “That smells ever so good.”

“Thank you,” Frodo replied. He reached for the plates in Merry’s hands and nodded out the window. “Go fetch Sam for me, will you, Merry? I’m sure that he’s hungry and would appreciate a bit of breakfast. Pippin, you need to wash and get dressed, lad.”

Pippin yawned again and Merry clung to the plates for dear life. “But, who’s going to set the table?”

“I’m perfectly capable of setting my own table, Merry,” Frodo said. “Now get. Tell Sam to hurry or we won’t wait for him.”

“Does Sam really need to breakfast with us? I’m sure he has things to do and being the sensible hobbit that he is, he would have already eaten,” Merry pointed out.

“I told him yesterday I’d invite him to first breakfast and not to eat anything beforehand,” Frodo explained coolly.

“Couldn’t Pippin go out to get him?” Merry said. He did not want to leave the smial. The moment he did, he knew Frodo would be running to the sitting room.

“Pippin has to wash up and get dressed,” Frodo reminded smoothly. “Don’t be rude, Merry. Go on now, there’s a good lad.”

Merry sighed with a huff and relinquished possession of the plates to Frodo. Then he was down the tunnel, out the door and searching for Sam as quickly as his feet would carry him. As luck would have it, Sam was far down in the lower gardens and by the time Merry found him, he was winded from all his running and had difficulty delivering the message.

“Frodo wants you to come up for breakfast,” he finally got out. “Come quick before it’s all gone, but please do take as much time as you wish to eat. Frodo could use the company, you know.”

Sam nodded, a crinkle of confusion showing on his brow. Company? Isn’t that why Master Merry and Master Pippin were here? “Of course, Master Merry. I’ll be right up,” was all Sam said. He stooped down quickly to retrieve his watering buckets, and Merry could swear he had seen a smirk on the gardener’s lips.

Not having time to waste on what that could mean, Merry dashed up the hill back to the smial and only managed to slow himself down in time to keep from slamming into the door. He paused for the briefest of seconds, calmly opened the door, then ran into the kitchen, where Pippin sat, washed and dressed, and Frodo was easily and casually dishing food onto Pippin’s plate. Frodo looked up when Merry entered.

“Is he coming?” Frodo asked, the perfect picture of innocence.

“He’ll be right up.”

“Wonderful.”

“Delightful.”
 

8:00 AM

Sam did come right up and he noticed immediately the tension running between his master and Master Merry. So, Mr. Frodo had been right to worry, for here it was their first day and Master Merry had already been up to something from the look and feel of it. Sam refrained from shaking his head and sighing dramatically. It wasn’t his place to go judging his betters after all. Besides, Mr. Frodo was as sharp and sturdy as they came. He would be able to handle whatever it was Master Merry had up his sleeves.

“There you are Sam,” Mr. Frodo greeted with a smile. He waved the gardener toward the table, where Sam noticed that Master Merry had invited himself to sit in Sam’s usual seat. “Sit and I’ll serve you.”

“Now, Mr. Frodo, that wouldn’t be-”

“Sit, and I’ll serve you,” Frodo repeated, firmly but kindly.

Sam sat in the only chair available, the one at the head of the table, opposite of Mr. Frodo, and tried not to feel too out of place.

Conversation at breakfast would have sounded normal enough, if not for the glances Mr. Frodo and Master Merry kept throwing at each other. Oh, they weren’t hostile or nothing, not even what anyone would call suspicious or untrusting. No, rather they were overly interested and uncommonly engrossed.

“So, what are everyone’s plans for the day?” Mr. Frodo asked.

“Well, I have that essay,” Master Merry said. “Do you have any accounts on Bucca, Frodo?”

“I do, in the library. You’re welcome to go in there and read them.”

“Oh, I think I’ll just take them into the sitting room. More room to move about, you know.”

“I rather that you didn’t, Merry. You tend to lose books and scrolls when you take them from the library.”

“I’ll put them back. Have no worries.”

Mr. Frodo smiled tight-lipped, then turned to Master Pippin. “And you, Pip? What are your plans?”

“I thought I was going to play with Merry,” Pippin said, frowning a little, “but I don’t want to watch him writing all day. Can you take me into town?”

Master Merry held his breath and was clearly trying not to appear too eager for Mr. Frodo’s answer. Mr. Frodo nodded. “Of course. When Merry takes his break, we can all go into town together.” Master Merry’s face turned sour. He stabbed at a piece of his omelet and shoved it into his mouth.

“And you, Sam? What are your plans?”

Sam quickly swallowed his milk. “Oh, just the usual, sir. And I was going to start on that path you’ve been wanting to put in.”

“Excellent. Well, let me know when you’re going to start on the path. Merry and I can go out to help you.”

Sam nodded slowly, masking his own feelings at this suggestion. Master Merry instantly jumped at what he thought was an opportunity. “And leave Pippin to watch himself? He’ll just raid your pantries and eat all your chocolate again.”

“I will not!” Master Pippin protested, blushing slightly. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Someone will have to watch him,” Master Merry went on. “You help Sam and I’ll watch Pippin. You know how he tires you out.”

“I can take care of myself,” Master Pippin insisted.

“Pippin can help also. I’m sure Sam can find a task for him that won’t be too daunting,” Mr. Frodo said. “Right, Sam?”

“Oh, well, actually, Mr. Frodo,” Sam stammered. He could just see the scene now, with all those extra hands, untrained at that and trying to catch each other off their guard to do who knows what. Sam would never get the path finished, or even started, with that sort of help. “Begging your pardon, sir, but there’s no need for you to be putting yourself out so. My friends Tom and Jolly’ll be coming up to help me.” Which was perfectly true, thank the stars.

“Oh,” Mr. Frodo said, a bit deflated. “I see.” Master Merry smiled triumphantly.

Sam sighed under his breath and quickly finished his food. “I’ll wash up,” he offered and stood to do just that.

“No need, Sam. Get back to your work. Merry and Pippin can make themselves useful for a change,” Mr. Frodo said. He beamed down at his cousins and Sam took his opportunity to escape before his master could change his mind.

Sam stepped outside and breathed in relief, then quickly made his way back down to the lower gardens. He would keep himself low and out of sight as much as possible today, and think of some way to politely decline any further invitations to mealtimes.

Merry gamely went to the wash basin and started washing the dishes, as Pippin stood next to him and waited to dry. Merry looked back as Frodo strolled casually out of the kitchen, through the kitchenette and into the tunnel. Frodo acted like he was going to his study, but Merry knew better.

He washed the dishes as quickly as he could, but Pippin was not cooperating. Pippin’s job was to dry, but he kept pointing out bits of food that Merry had failed to wash away in his haste to finish. Realizing that he was taking twice as long, Merry forced himself to slow down and take his time, all the while craning his ears to the rooms down the tunnel. He could not hear if Frodo had entered the sitting room or not but he did hear when the door to the study closed. Far too much time had passed for Frodo to have gone directly there.

Merry tried not to panic at this, reminding himself that he knew Frodo would be watching him carefully, and went over his other schemes in case he had to switch gears. Finally, he finished with the washing and was obliged to help Pippin put away the dishes, as many of the dishes belonged on shelves too high for Pippin to reach. Merry suspected that Frodo did this on purpose.

Finally, the job done, Merry dashed down the tunnel to the sitting room, leaving Pippin to fend for himself. He glanced around the room, noting that nothing appeared to be disturbed. He went to the linen chest and lifted the lid to peer inside. Everything was still as he left it. That meant one of two things: either Frodo had not found them, or he had found them but had left them there so Merry would think he hadn’t found them. Which option was more likely?

Merry closed the lid and sat on the chest, trying to noodle this out. Now, it was quite likely that Frodo would never think to the look in the linen chest. True, Frodo was sharp as a tack but he did tend to overlook smaller details like that. However, Frodo was clearly suspicious and had come to this room to look it over. When Frodo put his mind to things, very little was overlooked, if any at all. So, it was also equally as likely that Frodo had looked in the chest, which meant he would have seen what Merry was hiding in there. Being the devious Baggins that he was, he would leave those items in the chest and let Merry go on his way, assuming that Merry wouldn’t think to guess that Frodo had seen them. Which meant that Frodo now knew what was in the chest and also knew that Merry didn’t know that he knew. Unless he didn’t know.

Merry groaned and rubbed his temples. This was going to take a while.

Outside, Sam was continuing with his watering, having already forgotten the oddness of first breakfast. He hummed quietly and serenely as he tilted his watering bucket over the morning glories and went back to figuring out just how he was going to lay that stone pathway Mr. Frodo wanted. A moment later, his quiet world was shattered by two tiny words. “Hallo Sam.”

Sam turned from his watering and looked down at Master Pippin, who was standing on the grass and watching him intently.

“Hullo, Master Pippin,” Sam greeted back. “What brings you down here, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“I’m bored. Merry’s studying and Frodo’s doing his writing, or at least, they’re pretending to,” Master Pippin answered. “If you ask me, they’re both acting very odd today. I don’t have anything to do. What are you doing?”

“I’m watering the plants,” Sam answered.

“Why?”

“Because they need it.”

“How can you tell?”

Sam pointed to a bush near where Master Pippin was standing. “See the dirt just there, how dry it is? Now wriggle your finger into the dirt a lit bit. It’s still dry, ain’t it?” Master Pippin did as he was instructed and nodded. “That’s how I know.”

“Oh. Can I help?”

“I’ve only the one bucket left, sir. Besides, they’re a mite heavy for you to be lifting,” Sam said with a smile. He liked Master Pippin well enough, but he didn’t fancy having the lad’s help. Master Pippin tended to be a bit overenthusiastic from time to time and that would only slow Sam down. He had too much to be doing today for delays.

“Oh. Well, maybe I can find the plants that need watering for you so you won’t have to get your hands all dirty. Your hands are always dirty. Wouldn’t you like to keep them clean?” Master Pippin asked.

Sam smiled again. “Gardener’s always have dirt on their hands, Master Pippin,” he said. “There’s no getting’ around it no how.”

He saw the sinking look of disappointment on Pippin’s face. The young Took lowered his head and looked up at Sam through his auburn curls, his green eyes forlorn and lonely. “You don’t want my help.”

Now Sam understood why Master Pippin was always getting his way with Mr. Frodo and Master Merry. Sam had seen that same expression on his own little sister many a time and while he had learned to tell her no, he couldn’t very well do the same with Master Pippin, not without Mr. Frodo’s say so anyhow. Sam sighed softly, his plans for the day shattered. “Well, all right,” he said, and Master Pippin instantly cheered up. “If you want to, but be careful not to get yourself stuck in a thorn bush. I’ll not be cutting you out if you do.”

Master Pippin beamed up at Sam. “Thanks!” he said and he dashed off to find the next plants that needed watering. Sam didn’t bother to tell him that he already knew which plants were needing the water; he simply waited for Master Pippin to point one out to him, and if Master Pippin skipped past one, Sam watered it while the lad was searching for the next plant.
 

9:00 AM

In the smial, Merry gave up trying to decide whether Frodo knew what he was doing or not as he was giving himself a headache going back and forth on the matter, and simply continued on as planned. He kept an ear trained to the study so he would know when Frodo left the room and came down the tunnel, and started making his preparations.

In the study, Frodo sat staring out the window at the garden and the clear blue sky. He had seen Pippin go down to the lower gardens and was content to know that Sam would be looking out for the lad, for a little while at any rate. Sam had patience immeasurable when it came to Pippin and there was no one better to keep the teen preoccupied for an hour or two.

Unfortunately, this meant that Merry wasn’t watching Pippin, which meant Merry was alone. No matter. Whatever Merry was getting up to in the sitting room, at least Frodo knew that Merry wasn’t planting any tricks for him, not yet at any rate. Frodo would let him be for a while, then sneak down the tunnel and surprise his darling cousin when he least suspected it.

Merry heard the footsteps only just in time. He quickly put the few items he was working with away – he knew better than to keep it all out at one time – and spread out his pages on the floor. He pulled his quill and inkwell from his pocket, and uncorked the inkwell and dipped his quill without a moment to spare. He just barely managed to plaster a confused and contemplative expression on his face when Frodo entered the room. He looked up, innocent as you please.

“How is the essay coming?” Frodo asked, the picture of cousinly interest.

“Well enough,” Merry said, glad that he had started the essay while at Pippin’s the day before. If the page had been blank, he would have had some quick explaining to do. “Do you remember if Bucca was forty or fifty when he became Thain?”

“I believe he was sixty-seven,” Frodo answered, staring at the pages spread out in front of Merry. “You’ve gotten that much done?” He seemed surprised and more than a bit caught off guard. He looked at the parchment critically and Merry wondered if Frodo could read upside down. Frodo hummed noncommittally, so softly Merry almost didn’t hear him. What did that mean?

“Could you look it over when I’m done?” Merry asked on impulse, pretending to return to his assignment with dedicated concentration. He had to keep up the pretense that he was the studious pupil. “I’m not certain at all I’m capturing him well enough to do him justice. What with the twenty pages you did, you would know more on the matter than I would.”

“Of course,” Frodo answered. Merry looked up just in time to catch Frodo glancing quickly around the room, a frown on his face. He looked down again when Frodo returned his gaze to him. “Let me know when you’re done, or when you could use a break. Pippin did want to go into town, and there’s no need for you to finish that today. You have all week to complete it.”

Merry nodded. “Oh I know. I just don’t want to put it off to the last minute like I did with that report on Great-Grandfather Gorbodac. The ink was still wet when I handed that to Uncle Dino. He was not pleased.”

“Still wet?” Frodo asked with a lift of his eyebrow. “This ink dries fairly quickly then.”

Merry’s heart quickened. The ink! Silly Brandybuck, of course the ink would be dry! “Well, I’ve been reading over what I have so far.”

That same noncommittal hum. Then Frodo shrugged and left the room. “I’ll start second breakfast.”

Merry watched as Frodo walked away. From that small exchange, it was difficult to tell if Frodo was onto him or not. He was inclined to believe that Frodo was suspicious at the very least, but he had already guessed that much. He thought again about pulling the plug on this particular prank but then decided to forge ahead anyway. If Frodo did know and eventually caught him out, Frodo might back down, thinking the game over. If Frodo didn’t know, well, it would be silly to give up so quickly.

He waited until he could hear pots and pans being moved about in the kitchen before returning to the chest. He only had a few more traps to prepare. Then would come the even more difficult task of planting the traps where they needed to go. It was hard enough not being caught while staying in one room, but it would be nearly impossible to go unnoticed once he started walking about. He would have to think of a way to distract Frodo while he went about his business.

He pulled out the bottle of wine next. Uncorking the bottle and lacing it with the perfect blend of castor oil and baking soda would take some time, so he listened to the sounds from the kitchen. If it grew too quiet, he quickly put the bottle back in the chest and returned to his essay, scribbling a word or two so it looked like he was making progress. When the sounds started up again, he took the bottle back out and commenced working on his concoction.

By the time he was satisfied with his work, it was nearly time for second breakfast and he would have to finish the last few steps quickly. He never moved so fast in his life and only just managed to finish pounding the cork back into the bottle using a rather hefty paperweight of an eagle in flight when he heard Frodo’s footsteps out in the tunnel. He nearly threw the bottle back into the chest in his haste and closed the lid.

“What are you doing? What was that pounding?” Frodo asked accusingly as he entered the room.

Merry turned sheepishly, his hand slightly raised and still holding the paperweight. “There was a spider,” he said.

“And you killed it?” Frodo asked, aghast.

“It startled me,” Merry said. “Don’t worry, it got away.”

“It got away? After all that racket?”

“Yes.”

“You better not have damaged anything while you were trying to kill it,” Frodo warned.

“Only my pride.”

Frodo hummed at this, considering the situation. His eyes darted down to the essay lying on the floor, and Merry wasn’t certain if he imagined Frodo lingering over the chest or not. Frodo studied the parchment intently. “You don’t seem to have got much accomplished.”

“I ran into a bit of a snag,” Merry said.

“I told you to use the books and scrolls in the library,” Frodo reminded.

“Right. I’ll move in there after second breakfast.”

Frodo nodded. “Then run outside and fetch Pippin. I think he’s with Sam,” Frodo said. “I’ll move your things to the library and pull down the books you’ll need.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” Merry said. “Here, how about this – since you set the table for first breakfast, I’ll set it for second breakfast. You can fetch Pippin.” If he could only get Frodo out of the smial for a few minutes, he might be able to get some of the traps hidden.

“The table’s already set,” Frodo said smoothly. “Go on, you need some fresh air after all your hard work.” Frodo ushered Merry out of the room and down the tunnel. “Invite Sam up again, will you? Don’t take no for an answer.” And before Merry knew how it happened, he was standing outside on the porch.

Frodo chuckled softly to himself as he walked back to the sitting room. He took Merry’s things into the library, where the scrolls and books were already laid out next to the chair. Then he went to look inside the chest again and see how much progress Merry had made. He didn’t worry to hurry – after the discomfort of first breakfast, Sam wouldn’t readily agree to another meal. Merry would be gone for a while.

Merry quickly made his way to the lower gardens, only to discover that Sam was no longer there. Trying not to feel too frantic, he made his way back up to the main garden and jogged his way around the smial, looking about every which way as he went. Eventually, he found Sam and Pippin at the very back of the grounds. Sam was showing Pippin how to deadhead the rose bushes.

“Pinch and snap, Master Pippin,” Sam was saying as he demonstrated pinching a dead rose head and snapping it off with a quick twist.

“But it won’t snap,” Pippin said, doing the same motion but failing to get the same result. The rose head he was working on only drooped sadly on its damaged stem.

“Then use these here clippers. Keep your fingers clear of the edges.” Sam offered the teen the tool and continued his work without them. Pippin cut off a few of the dead roses and looked up at Sam for approval. “Very good, sir.”

“Pippin,” Merry called, interrupting the lesson. “Get inside and wash up for second breakfast. See if Frodo needs help with anything while you’re at it. Sam, you wash up too. Frodo wants you to join us again.”

Pippin instantly dropped the clippers and dashed off for the smial. Sam, however, only stooped down to pick up the clippers before turning to Merry and saying with a nod, “I thank you kindly, Master Merry, but I’ve got my own food.”

“Now, Sam, Frodo said I wasn’t to take no for an answer,” Merry replied. “I must insist that you come along and not tarry.”

“Begging your pardon, and Mr. Frodo’s also, but I’m a bit behind this morning, what with watching over Master Pippin and all,” Sam said. There was the slightest hint of irritation in his voice. He couldn’t say anything against Master Merry, but he didn’t appreciate being ordered around in such a manner.

“You don’t need to watch over Pippin,” Merry said flippantly, missing the gardener’s wary tones. “Just tell him to scamper off. He’ll find some way to occupy himself.”

Sam didn’t reply to this for many long moments, but by his expression it was clear that he thought this to be very bad advice indeed. At last, he cleared his throat and said, “Begging your pardon, sir, but I’ll choose for myself the best way to deal with Master Pippin. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really do need to be finishing this.”

Merry bristled at this. Was Sam telling him how to manage Pippin? As if Sam would know better than he did. Sam acted as if Merry were neglecting Pippin, when Pippin hadn’t even asked to spend any time with Merry at all. And what was all this talk about work? Frodo would hardly care if Sam took the entire day off, yet Sam acted as if the world would come to an end if the roses didn’t get pruned, and he said it like he didn’t believe Merry understood the value of a day’s honest work. Was Sam trying to imply that Merry never worked or did anything of service?

Merry narrowed his eyes at the gardener. “I think you’re getting a bit too comfortable in your position here, Sam. I know how to handle my cousin.”

Sam froze, then slowly turned back to Merry. “I didn’t say as you didn’t, sir,” Sam said, looking confused and startled by this heated statement. “I just have my way of handling things. I don’t need instruction, is all.”

“I’m the one responsible for Pippin,” Merry said.

“Aye sir, but he was out here with me,” Sam said, still not understanding why Master Merry was getting so upset. Sam had thought he was doing Master Merry and Mr. Frodo a favor by keeping Master Pippin out from under foot.

“Merry!” Frodo suddenly called from the smial. “What’s taking you so long? Get in here so we can eat.”

“Sam won’t come,” Merry called back. Now Frodo would tell Sam to come and Sam would have to listen.

“He doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to,” was the cheerful reply.

What?! “But you said-”

“Merry, I’m not calling to you like cattle. Get in here, now.” The door closed.

Merry huffed in frustration, and after a final slanted glance at Sam, he turned on his heel and returned to the smial. He slammed the door behind him and marched into the kitchen, where Frodo was laying out the toast, eggs and sausage.

“Thanks for that,” he said to Frodo. “Now Sam’s going to hate me more than he already does.”

“Sam doesn’t hate you,” Frodo said. He glanced quickly at Merry and noted his cousin’s agitation.

“He does too. Do you know what he just said to me? He said that I was neglecting Pippin and mistreating him, and that I’m lazy and coddled and never do anything useful,” Merry said.

Frodo lifted an eyebrow at that and somehow managed to repress his laugh of disbelief. “Sam said that? My Sam? Are we talking about the same hobbit?”

“Well, he didn’t say exactly that, but it was very heavily implied.”

“You know, Merry, if you tried being a little nicer to Sam, he might not be so formal with you,” Frodo suggested softly.

“Formal?” Merry said. “He’s hardly formal now with all his back talk. That’s hardly proper for someone of his station to say such things. And why is he so stuck on propriety and formality anyway? The servants at Brandy Hall aren’t nearly as serious as he is.”

“So, are you angry because he’s too formal or not formal enough? You’re not making any sense, Merry,” Frodo said, irritated himself now. He could see he would have to talk to Sam and find out exactly what had happened, but that would have to wait until after second breakfast. “Go wash up, and bring the jam and butter on your way back. I couldn’t find them in the pantry.”

“Butter and jam?”

“Of course, Merry,” Pippin said now. “We can’t eat our toast dry. And you were rude to Sam, I heard you.”

“How?” Merry exclaimed now.

“You said, ‘Sam you wash up too’ like he was my age.”

“I did not! And if I did, I didn’t mean it that way,” Merry blushed.

“Merry,” Frodo interrupted, his tone stern. “Wash up, please, and don’t forget the condiments.”

Merry turned and left to wash up. He was in such a mood that he didn’t bother to sneak into the sitting room on his way back from the bathing room. He simply walked right in, grabbed the butter and jam, and continued to the kitchen, where he slammed the requested items onto the table.

“What happened to the butter?” Pippin asked, frowning down at the pale white pad.

Merry paused in horror, realizing too late his error or, more accurately, Frodo’s ploy. He looked down at the pad of butter which he had painstakingly shaped and perfected. Frodo came to stand next to him and though he said nothing, Merry knew what he was thinking. At last, Frodo patted Merry’s shoulder.

“It never would have passed as soap anyway,” he said. “It would have melted from the steam of the bath water.” He slid the butter over to Pippin, who cut into it with his knife and slathered his toast, all the while looking up at his two older cousins as though they were amusing faunts playing in the pen.

“You knew?” Merry said sheepishly.

“I knew,” Frodo answered. “Put everything back in its proper place after you finish eating, will you? Except the wine – just dump that out. Whatever you did to it, I’m sure I don’t want to drink it.”

“Yes, Frodo.”

The only one to talk at second breakfast was Pippin, who was eagerly telling his older cousins everything he had learned from Sam in the last hour.

“And then he showed me the difference between a weed and a baby flower. They look a lot alike. They’re both green and have leaves, but the leaves are different and that’s how you can tell because the weeds have long thin leaves while the flowers have round fat leaves, and the weeds also have longer roots which is why you have to be careful to get the whole root or the weed will grow again and again and…”

“Breathe, Pippin,” Merry interjected.

Deep breath. “And when they regrow, there’ll be more and that’s bad because they can take over the garden and kill the flowers but I don’t understand that because weeds have flowers too and I think some of them are very pretty but Sam says they’re all bad, except that you can eat a few of them if you get hungry while you’re working and he said that there are flowers you can eat also, but I don’t know why you would want to eat either one.”

“Is that it?” Frodo asked after an unexpected pause.

Pippin nodded and stuffed half his toast in his mouth.
 
 
 

To be continued…

Part II

10:00 AM

Frodo and Pippin cleared the second breakfast dishes and cleaned the kitchen while Merry returned to the sitting room and collected the things he had hidden there. He put everything back in its proper place, looking at Frodo meekly every time they passed in the tunnel. Frodo only chuckled and shook his head. Merry almost thought of putting the wine back also, but knowing Frodo would have found some way to mark the bottle just in case, Merry dutifully went outside to pour its contents onto the lane.

Merry then went to the library and began to work on his report. He knew better than to attempt any further pranks at the moment. With luck, Frodo will incorrectly assume that Merry had been cowed into good behavior. Merry was grateful that Frodo wasn’t there to see the smirk on his face. He glanced at the clock and wondered when they would be going into town.

Frodo followed Pippin outside to the back gardens, where Sam was just finishing the deadheading. Sam looked up at the sound of their approach and ducked his head at them by way of greeting. “Morning, sirs,” he said. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably, wondering what could have brought his master out to see him so early in the morning and figuring it must have something to do with Master Merry.

“Hullo, Sam,” Frodo greeted pleasantly. “I hear you’ve had a helper this morning.”

“Aye sir,” Sam replied. “A right good one.”

Pippin beamed up at the gardener and looked for the clippers, which Sam quickly and discreetly hid in his breeches pocket. “What are we doing next?” Pippin asked.

Frodo laughed. “You are going inside and getting ready to go into town. Have Merry put aside his sorry excuse of an essay and get ready also. I’m going to speak with Sam for a moment. I don’t want to be interrupted.”

“But we were going to trim back the berry bushes,” Pippin said.

“Sam has trimmed those bushes many times without your help, Pip. I’m sure he’ll be able to manage doing so again. Don’t you want to get some elevenses at Mable’s?” That did the trick. Pippin was off at a run and Frodo waited until Pippin was inside before turning to his gardener. He was putting together how to brook the conversation, but before he could say anything, Sam was fumbling for an apology.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Frodo,” he said nervously. “I oughtn’t have said such things to Master Merry, sir. It was out of my place.”

“What exactly did you say?” Frodo asked. “I’d ask Merry for specifics, but I don’t trust his point of view in this. What happened?”

“I’m not rightly sure, sir,” Sam started. “I was just showing Master Pippin how to be deadheading the roses, and up comes Master Merry telling us both to get inside. I told him as I couldn’t, being as I was behind and all and needed to be about my work. Then Master Merry said to let Master Pippin be on his own, and I guess that’s when it happened. I said as I would look after Master Pippin my own way. Master Merry didn’t like that for some reason. I guess maybe I just said it wrong. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful, sir.”

“I know you didn’t, but Merry has a way of bringing that out in people at times,” Frodo said. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Sam. Merry’s just a bit frustrated. He’s trying to prank me back for that frock.” Frodo looked over his shoulder at the deceitfully quiet, peaceful smial. “He’s in there right now, plotting something else, I can feel it. I caught him with all sorts of contraband, but that won’t stop him for too long. What should I do?”

Sam shuffled his feet again. He hated to see his master so on edge, but if he wanted advice, Sam would do his best. “Well, sir, there is one thing as you might try.”

Inside, Pippin found Merry in the library and came to stand next to his chair and watch him as he scribbled away. “You’re actually writing it?” he asked.

Merry nodded. “Where’s Frodo?”

“Outside talking to Sam,” Pippin said. “He said it would take a while and he didn’t want to be interrupted. He also said we were to get ready to go into town.”

“Really?” Merry said, his mind racing. He grinned up at Pippin and stuck his quill into its inkwell. “I think we’ll go to plan B then. You remember your part?”

Pippin nodded. “He’s going to be angry though,” he said uncertainly. “Frodo didn’t do anything to me. I don’t want to prank him.”

“No, Pip, he hasn’t done anything to you yet. You too will be twenty-five one day and he’ll get you then, rest assured,” Merry warned. “This is a preemptive strike, a very important maneuver in wars such as this.” He stood up and left the library, Pippin in tow.

“But I already know about the frock trick,” Pippin said. “He won’t be able to get me.”

“He’ll think of something else,” Merry said. They entered Merry’s room and Merry closed the door. He regarded Pippin closely. “Don’t be conned by that innocent face of his, Pip. Frodo was known to be quite a rascal while he was living in Buckland and that wild streak still lives in him somewhere. You can take the lad out of the Blue but you can’t take the Blue out of the lad.”

“What does that mean?” Pippin asked, confused.

“That means that you are what you are, no matter how much you appear to have changed, and Frodo is a rascal. For all his gentlehobbit ways, he’s still a devious one and he always will be,” Merry said knowingly. He slipped on his waistcoat and buttoned it up. “I had forgotten that, but I won’t make the same mistake twice. I wouldn’t put anything past him. Are you with me or not?”

Pippin nodded. “I am,” he said, a feeling of dread deep in his stomach. He would live to regret this, he just knew it.

A half-hour later, Frodo, Merry and Pippin were heading down the Hill to town. They reached the market and went into a small diner just off the road, tucked behind The Ivy Bush. While elder hobbits and gaffers congregated at the Bush for gossiping and complaining, junior hobbits and mistresses with children in tow went to Mable’s Teahouse. The diner was quieter to start, with no mead to be served to rile up the patrons, and the cozier atmosphere allowed for a more relaxed meal when the sun became too hot, the wind too cold or the shopping too tiresome.

Frodo took a table near the middle of the diner, and Merry and Pippin looked about them at everyone’s plates to see what they wanted. Everything looked wonderful of course and it was hard picking which dish they would rather have. In the end, they ordered milk and mint tea with buttered scones and fruit with cream.

While they waited for their food to be prepared, Frodo looked Merry in the eye. “I talked to Sam. You took an innocent comment rather too far, Merry. Whatever it is you have against Sam, you are not to verbally attack him like that again.”

“Of course you would take his side,” Merry said.

“But you were rude to him,” Pippin jumped in, “and he was nice to me. He showed me all sorts of things.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Merry,” Frodo warned. “You are not to be rude to Sam anymore, nor to Pippin.”

“He’s not rude to me,” Pippin said.

“Yes he is, even if you don’t see it,” Frodo said. He turned back to Merry. “You had an awful lot to say about Sam behaving a certain way due to his position. Well you have a position as well, Meriadoc, one that can do a great deal of harm if used unwisely. You mustn’t be so quick to assume you know what everyone else is thinking.”

Merry mumbled a reply. The last thing he wanted to do was endure a lecture, especially here, where he couldn’t even get rightfully outraged, not without drawing a large audience at any rate. Oh, Frodo had planned it this way, the rascal.

“I mean it, Merry,” Frodo said. “You are the heir to Buckland and one day, you will be making decisions that effect not only the family but anyone who works for them as well. You must take everyone’s positions into consideration.”

“I know,” Merry said to his napkin.

“Then why did you get so angry with Sam?” Frodo asked.

Merry shrugged.

“Sam is my gardener, not my slave,” Frodo said. “You are not treat him like that again.”

“I didn’t treat him like that!” Merry exclaimed, remembering only in time to keep his voice low. “You said not to take no for an answer.”

“So you decide that ordering him around was the way to go about it?” Frodo asked.

“He has a point, Merry,” Pippin jumped in, not wanting to be left out. “You could have said something like, ‘Won’t you come join us, Sam? Frodo will be very disappointed if you don’t.’ That would have worked.”

“No it wouldn’t have. Sam hates me.”

“It’s no wonder,” Frodo said coldly, and that ended the conversation.
 

11:00 AM

The food arrived exactly at eleven, and the young hobbits munched on their food with zest while Frodo drank his tea. Frodo wouldn’t eat again until luncheon, which he was planning on enjoying at The Green Dragon. He had business that would take him to Bywater and it had been some time since he enjoyed a mug of ale at the Dragon. He figured by the time luncheon arrived, he would need a tankard.

Elevenses was eaten without further comments. Merry was still stewing over Frodo’s lecture and Pippin seemed preoccupied as well. When Frodo asked him what was on his mind, Pippin only shook his head. “Nothing,” he said though clearly it was something, but Frodo could get nothing further out of him.

They finished eating and Frodo tipped the serving lass. Then he led his cousins out to the marketplace.

“What are we getting?” Merry asked, looking around with interest.

There were the usual farmers’ stalls, selling grain, corn, tomatoes, apples and other various goods. There were the weavers’ stands, with displays of colorful blankets, scarves, tea cozies and anything else that could be made with yarn or thread. The woodworkers and carpenters were there also, as were the healer, glass blowers, pottery throwers, smiths, cartwrights and ropers. Around the post master’s office were messengers waiting for jobs or reading letters for those who could not do so themselves.

“Post messengers must know all sorts of secrets,” Merry said suddenly.

Frodo nodded. “It’s an honorable job. Master Sarco only hires those as can keep their mouths shut. If they do talk, they are not only fired but they’re banished from ever working as messengers again. They also must go to an inquisition before the Mayor and have to pay a fine.”

“How much?” Pippin asked, intrigued by this bit of information.

“I’m not sure,” Frodo answered. “It varies, depending on the severity of the transgression, but even the lowest fine could take years to pay off, especially if they can’t find work.”

Merry nodded. “We have a similar policy in Buckland. So far as I know, it’s only been implemented once and that was a hundred years or so ago. There’s no information on what the transgression was, only that he was fined eighteen pennies.”

Pippin’s eyes widened. “That’s three ducats! Did he ever pay it off?” he asked.

Merry shrugged. “The account I read didn’t say, but I imagine he could have had it paid off in a couple of years. All he’d have to do is put aside a farthing a day.”

“Oh. … So what are we doing?” Pippin asked, bringing them back to the original topic.

Frodo looked down at his list. He hoped they would be able to get to all of it, but it would be a lot to carry back up the Hill when all was said and done. Still, with the three of them, it should be manageable enough, and he could always hire a carter if the burden became too much. “I need candles and bathing oil, more parchment, some stock for the larders and I need to pick up my formal dining shirt from the tailor’s, as well as something from Master Hornbeam.”

“What’s that?” Merry asked.

“A tinder box,” Frodo answered. “Had I known that Tom and Jolly would be coming to help Sam, I would have had them pick it up for me. I plan to give it to Saradoc for Yule. ”

“Yule is six months away,” Merry stated.

“It’s never too early to start shopping,” Frodo replied.

Merry couldn’t argue with that. “We’ll get that first then I take it?” Merry asked next.

Frodo nodded. “That would be best. We can get the parchment from the novelty shop while we’re there.”

Merry and Pippin shared knowing looks behind Frodo’s back. Frodo in a novelty shop was a thing to be dreaded. He could spend hours comparing the different types of parchment and often wandered over to fiddle with the quill-and-ink sets also. Then he had to browse through the stationery for any new designs he might like. If the shop owner happened to have acquired some rare books since Frodo’s last visit, then Merry and Pippin might as well pitch some tents and prepare to stay the night.

With great reluctance, they followed Frodo down Bywater Road and out of Hobbiton. Merry hoped they wouldn’t be too long in Bywater; he wanted to return to the market before any of the vendors could leave for the day.

At Bag End, Sam was having a much better time. With no one about and no interruptions to be seen, he was quickly catching up on his morning’s work. He had finished the deadheading before his master left for market and he now continued on to the berry bushes, whistling as he went.

He quickly filled two large baskets with raspberries, blueberries and blackberries, one basket with ripe fruit ready to eat and another with overripe fruit good for preserves and pies. This was one job he was glad Master Pippin wasn’t around to help with. The berries would have ended up all mixed up and in the wrong baskets. Sam could just see Mr. Frodo sitting down to berry-covered hotcakes and spitting them out again for the sourness of the fruit.

Once the baskets were full and the bushes plucked of the mature berries, Sam went around each bush with his clippers, cutting off errant branches and twigs until they were all evenly shaped again. He added the trimmings to yet another basket, this one containing all the day’s trimmings and weeds. This one would go into the compost.

By the time his stomach started asking for food, he had trimmed nearly all the bushes. He glanced up at the sun and guessed it to be about half past eleven. He had missed second breakfast and elevenses to go back and finish the weeding and deadheading and put things back into the shed that he was no longer using. He decided to finish his last two jobs, the bushes and the compost heaps, then wash up and sit down to eat. By the time he finished that and brought out the things he would need to lay the stone pathway, Tom and Jolly should have arrived.

Sam finished the last bush and gathered his clippers and the baskets of berries. He took the berries inside, the good ones to the larder and the sour ones he left in the entryway near the backdoor, where he could retrieve them before going home for the day. Then he went to the tool shed and returned his clippers and took out the pitchfork. He strolled back to the bushes, collected the basket of trimmings and made his way to the compost heaps. He tossed the trimmings on the first heap and swiftly and easily began turning them over, seven in all.

He was sweating by the time he was finished with the fourth heap. He removed his waistcoat and unbuttoned his shirt, rolled up his sleeves and wiped his face with a handkerchief. He would need to dunk a whole bucket of water over himself to remove all the sweat and grime before he could eat. Not daunted by the heat or the hard work, Sam continued with his job, whistling all the while.

Merry and Pippin, whose only job at the moment was to follow Frodo about, were not so eager or happy. The walk to Bywater had been pleasant enough and they had arrived at Hornbeam’s without any further confrontations or irritations. Only, once they were are Hornbeam’s, they were made to stand around outside the carpenter’s shop while Frodo went in and talked business. When Frodo emerged with his Yule gift, he refused to let Merry and Pippin take a peek at it. Now, they were sitting in the middle of the novelty shop while Frodo strolled about casually as the stationer, a squat older hobbit with wiry curls by the name of Thistle, trailed him eagerly.

“This is a fine leaf-press,” Master Thistle said of some patterned parchment. “My daughter made it herself. She’s just come of age six months ago, you know.”

“Mm-hm,” Frodo hummed distractedly.

“She’s a fine lass,” Master Thistle continued. “She’s a good eye and hand for detail. See how the leaf just leaps right off the page. And the coloring, very realistic if I do say so myself. I swear every time I see that, I think it’s the real thing.”

“I bet he does,” Merry muttered under his breath and sighed heavily. This was taking forever, yet the timepiece on the wall told him they had only been in here for ten minutes. Merry figured the timepiece must be broken. Beside him, Pippin was desperately trying not to fall asleep, the result being that his head continuously jerked up and down in a manner that reminded Merry of a chicken.

“My daughter can make quite a lot of handy things,” the stationer continued. “She’d make a lad a fine wife. You’d have no want for anything with her about the smial.”

“Mm-hm,” Frodo hummed again, then shook his head. He turned to Master Thistle, a confused expression on his face. “What?”

“What?” Master Thistle asked, equally confused. Merry was impressed with how quickly the old hobbit was able feign innocence.

Frodo blinked at the stationer a few times, then nodded. “I’ll take a ream of this.”

“Excellent choice, Mr. Baggins. A fine choice,” Master Thistle said and then waved his hand to the far end of the shop. “My daughter also made some new stationery you might be interested in. Blue is your favorite color, I’ve heard told, and you have a fancy for primrose from what your Sam says. Come, I think you’ll find these designs quite to your liking.”

Frodo followed Master Thistle to the stationery and began browsing through the various designs. Pippin’s head drooped onto Merry’s arm and Merry somehow managed not to die of boredom. He did rather feel like doing something drastic though, anything to get him out of this shop. But if he did anything now, it would ruin any chance of getting Frodo later.

After the stationery, Frodo was next directed to the quill-and-ink sets, which Frodo thankfully refrained from looking at. He reminded the stationer that he was in a hurry and the stationer bashfully bowed. “Of course you are, Mr. Baggins. Let me just call my daughter and have her total your purchases.” The little hobbit scurried away to the back room and Frodo waited at the counter with his ream of parchment and two sets of stationery.

When Master Thistle returned, he was followed by a homely lass, equally as short as her father and not much nicer to look upon. Merry would have laughed if he hadn’t felt so sorry for her. No wonder she didn’t have a suitor already.

Frodo greeted the lass kindly. “Good day, Lila,” he said. He clearly knew the lass already, as he would since he came here so often. He waited for Lila to total his purchases and only haggled with her moderately over the price. He waved good day to the stationer and bowed politely to the lass, then collected his cousins. Pippin only awakened when the support of Merry’s shoulder was suddenly jerked out from under him. Merry reached down to keep Pippin from falling onto the floor, then they followed Frodo out of the shop and back onto the road.

Once they were a safe distance from the shop, Merry said, “That old hobbit wants you to marry his daughter.”

“I know,” Frodo said. He handed the parcel with the stationery to Pippin and the parcel with the parchment to Merry. The Yule gift he kept for himself. “Now, who wants luncheon?”
 

12:00 PM

The Green Dragon was quiet when they entered. Only a few old gaffers were there, sitting in the far corner where they could look out the window and watch the bustle of the marketplace.

The barkeep, a young hobbit known only by his nickname Twig, came around the bar to greet them then. “Hullo young masters, Mr. Baggins,” he said. “How wonderful of ‘ee to be joinin’ us on such a fine day.”

“Hullo Twig,” Frodo greeted with a return smile. “Are the fires lit, because these two are hungry.”

Twig chuckled and nodded eagerly. “That they are, Mr. Baggins, no fear o’ that. We’ll get them fed and full enough.” He followed Frodo to a table off to the side and waited on their orders.

“Fed perhaps, but full is another matter,” Frodo said, grinning at his cousins’ bemusement. “I’ll have my usual. My cousins will make their own orders.”

Merry and Pippin each ordered a bread loaf, a bowl of soup, sliced apples with caramel and a cup of cinnamon tea. Twig shouted their orders to the cook as he made his way back to the bar and commenced cleaning the countertop and mugs. As they waited for their food, Merry and Pippin once again attempted to badger Frodo into letting them see the tinder box.

“Why can’t I see it?” Merry asked. “It’s for my father, not me.”

“Exactly, which means you’ll see it when he opens it at Yule,” Frodo said, for easily the fourth time in less than an hour.

“Why should we have to wait though?” Pippin chimed in. “It’s not for us, so there’s no surprise and you already told us what it is.”

“You’re not going to see it, and that’s that,” Frodo said. “Have you started thinking about your Yule gifts yet?”

“It’s six months away,” Merry reminded. “I’ll start buying in Blotmath.”

“That’s when my mum is going to take me shopping too,” Pippin stated as Twig came back with the sliced apples and caramel, a kettle of cinnamon tea and glasses. Twig had everything on the table and was gone again within seconds.

“Last year, I waited until Foreyule and it was a bit too hectic for Mum’s taste,” Pippin continued as he dipped an apple slice in the caramel and watched as the golden syrup dripped off the slice and back into the bowl. He dipped it again and this time bit into it. He licked the caramel off his lips and fingers, as Merry dipped his own apple slice, being much less playful about the process. Merry twisted his hand so he would lose none of the caramel and quickly popped the whole slice into his mouth, getting none of it on his fingers.

“As I was saying,” Pippin went on, picking out his next slice with care, “all the stores and shops were crowded and cramped and you couldn’t hear for everyone haggling over prices. Mum said she’d sooner kiss a toad than do that again. … Is kissing toads supposed to be a gross thing?”

Merry and Frodo looked at the teen sideways. “Yes,” they said.

“Oh.” Pippin popped the next slice in his mouth, his face blushing slightly.

Merry’s mouth quirked at this. “Pippin,” he started in teasing tones, “you haven’t kissed-”

“No,” Pippin said quickly before Merry could finish. “Not if it’s gross, I haven’t.”

There was an awkward pause, during which Pippin fiddled with his napkin and wouldn’t look at anyone. Merry managed to suppress his laughter and noticing that Frodo was attempting to do the same, he turned to his older cousin and said, “So, if we guess what it looks like, will you tell us?”

Frodo sighed, wishing the day were over.

At Bag End, Sam was just sitting down to his own luncheon when he heard a rattling at the gate. Tom and Jolly had come early to surprise him, and they had brought a guest.

“Hullo Sam,” they chimed as Sam opened the gate for them. “We brought luncheon,” Tom continued and Jolly and Rosie held up their baskets.

“Hullo all,” Sam greeted his cousins warmly. He took the basket from Rosie and nodded to her. “Good day, Rosie.”

“Good day, Sam,” she returned the greeting with a cheerful smile. She looked around at the garden in appreciation. “You’ve done a fine good job here, Sam. It looks lovely.”

“Thank ‘ee, Rosie,” Sam replied, blushing slightly with the praise. He led his cousins to the back of the gardens where Sam usually ate his luncheon under the elm tree. He pointed out various things that had changed since Tom and Jolly’s last visit up. “That there hydrangea’s really taken root this year, bloomed for near two months it did. Shame you had to miss it. This honeysuckle’s near taken over the back porch. It’s going to be trimmed down a good bit, shameful as that is. I added these begonias from the lower garden here under the bath window. Makes for a lovely scent floating through the window come nighttime, which is when the Master likes to take his leisure.”

His cousins nodded along and looked where he pointed, simply enjoying being in such a bountiful garden. Everyone loved the Bag End garden and it was a matter of prideful gloating to tell everyone you had business there. Well, except for Sam of course. He’d never dare to gloat over having such a comfortable position as he did here with Mr. Baggins.

When they reached the elm tree, Tom laid down his blanket and the twins set out the food. They all sat together and Rosie served the drinks as the lads loaded up their plates. She handed the drinks out and asked, “Where’s Goldie at? We stopped by your smial hoping to invite her up but she weren’t there.”

“Missus Brown took sick and May and Goldie’re helping out with the little ‘uns,” Sam answered.

Rosie’s cheerfulness deflated a little bit to hear this. She had been counting on an hour or two with her best friends and brothers, but that wouldn’t be possible now. “I suppose I ought to go and see what they’d be needing help with,” she said. “Those children can get a mite unruly.”

“May can deal with them just fine,” Sam said. “They’ve taken care of the lot many a time afore now. No need for you to dash off and miss your own luncheon,” he pointed out.

So Rosie stayed through luncheon, though there wasn’t much conversation going around. Everyone was too busy eating to speak around their food and the silence was comfortable and pleasant, filled only with murmured exclamations over the food. Once the meal was eaten, she helped clean up and then stood, a twinge of regret in her eyes.

“I’d best be off,” she said. “May might be able to handle those rug rats, but they’ll walk all over Marigold. May can’t be around all the time. I’ll let meself out,” she finished when she saw Sam about to stand to join her. “Good day to you, Sam.”

Sam said, “Fare you well, Rosie,” at the same time Jolly teased, “What about us?”

Rosie trotted back through the garden, waving as she rounded the corner out of sight.

“It’s a shame about Goldie,” Tom said. “Rosie’d have stayed longer had Goldie been able to come up.”

“Don’t you mean, it’s a shame about Cousin Laurel?” Jolly asked with a wide grin, for Missus Brown was indeed their second cousin once removed on their mother’s side. “She’s the one as took sick after all.”

Sam said nothing through the exchange and soon the lads were digging back into the last of the food, filling up the corners with cupcakes and biscuits. When they had their fill and washed it down with glasses of warm water, Tom thumbed toward the well, though it was out of sight around the bend of the smial, and asked, “Have you figured out how to be laying this stone path your master’s wanting?”

Sam licked the last of the frosting from his fingers and nodded. “Mr. Frodo said I’m free to go about it however I figure it’s best and I finally noodled it out this morning.”

“I say it’s best left as it is,” Jolly put in. “Never heard of no stone path to a well afore. Did he get this notion from his Brandybuck connections, or the Tooks?”

Sam shrugged. “Can’t say. All’s I know is he wants it done. He’s got his reasoning for it and I’m sure they’re practical enough,” he said. ‘To Mr. Frodo anyway,’ he finished to himself.

“That may be, but stone’s a mite more slippery and dangerous than dirt when it’s wet,” Tom pointed out. “It makes for tricky footin’, especially when you’re weighed down with buckets on a yoke.”

“It’s harder for shoveling snow too,” Jolly added.

“Aye, but mud’s still slippery enough in its own right, and messy besides,” Sam said a bit defensively. “I figured we could dig up the path about an inch or two deep and lay down them flat stones as I ordered. They’ll run from the back porch, through the kitchen garden and up to about a foot or two from the well. We’ll keep the dirt where it is right around the well, and keep some in between the stones to work as caulking should the stones move.”

“Sounds good to me,” Tom supplied. “Where’re the stones?”

“They’re just inside the backdoor in the mud room, so’s we won’t have to haul them too far,” Sam said. He stood up and stretched, readying himself for more work. “Best get started then.”

“I’ll get the spades,” Jolly offered and trotted off to the shed as Tom and Sam went around the bend to inspect first hand what they would be working on.

By this time, Frodo, Merry and Pippin were still eating at The Green Dragon. They hadn’t ordered that much food, but between Merry and Pippin badgering Frodo about the tinder box, they hadn’t been eating very quickly. Frodo was starting to get annoyed and so used the excuse of needing to visit the privy to step outside and have a few moments of peace, being sure to take the present with him of course.

When he was gone, Merry leaned over to Pippin and whispered, “Did you see her in the marketplace?”

Pippin nodded. “She’ll be there a while yet,” he stated. “How do we go about it?”

“Simple: you distract him with some sort of foolishness and I’ll sneak off to talk to her. Oh, and you might want to drop something on his foot if you can manage it. Nothing too heavy or damaging, just enough to make him limp a little,” Merry said.

“How do I do that?” Pippin asked.

“I have complete faith in you, Pippin. You’ll find a way,” Merry smirked and slurped up the last of his soup. “Frodo will think twice the next time he plans to embarrass this Brandybuck.”

“I still don’t see why I have to be involved,” Pippin said again. “Are you sure this a good idea?”

“It’s brilliant! It’s fool proof!” Merry exclaimed. “He’ll never see it coming. And so long as you play your part correctly, he won’t even know that you’re involved at all.”

Pippin wasn’t so sure about this last part, but he couldn’t argue further as Frodo chose this precise moment to return. He frowned down at his cousins. “Aren’t you finished yet?” he asked. “I do have more errands to run.”

“Sorry, Frodo, we’ll finish up,” Merry said, and he and Pippin proceeded to do just that.

A few minutes later, the bill was settled and the three cousins were walking out of Bywater and back toward Hobbiton. Merry and Pippin swung their parcels as they trotted up the road with Frodo between them. Then Merry winked behind Frodo’s back at Pippin, who smiled in return.

“So, is it made out of oak or birch?” Pippin asked.

“It’s lined with clothe, I assume,” Merry said. “Is it chiffon?”

Frodo sighed and wished he’d had the foresight to wait until his cousins had left to pick up the tinder box. “No, no and no,” he answered. “No matter what you guess, the answer will be no, so there’s no point in asking.”

Merry and Pippin accepted this for the next mile or so, but when the Hobbiton marketplace came into view on the horizon, they started up again. “Is it ash?” “What about silk?” “Cherry oak?” “Does it have a hidden top compartment for his pipe to be stored?” “Is it engraved? It should be engraved. What does it say?”

“Enough!” Frodo finally snapped. “You’re not seeing it, so just stop!”

Another half mile passed, then, “Is it fig?”

Frodo made as though to whack Merry over the head with the present. Merry and Pippin took that as their cue to bolt and run up the road to the marketplace, now well within view. Frodo did not follow after.
 

1:00 PM

Merry and Pippin slowed to a casual stroll once they were in the marketplace. Merry spied from the corner of his eye the booth he had noticed earlier and grinned. “She’s still here,” he whispered to Pippin. “Now, we just need to find something that you can use to occupy Frodo’s attention for about five minutes or so.”

“Found it,” Pippin said, pointing to the weaver’s booth. They made their way toward the booth, which was loaded with various piles of quilts, throws, blankets, shawls and even pillow cases and tea cozies.

“Are you sure?” Merry asked uncertainly. He couldn’t imagine Frodo spending much time here, especially if he had other things to do.

Pippin looked up at the neatly stacked piles and nodded. “This’ll work,” he said just as Frodo caught up with them.

“No lingering, lads,” Frodo ordered, still scowling slightly at them both. “We’ll browse when I’ve got everything I need.”

“What do you need again?” Merry asked as he and Pippin fell into step beside their older cousin.

Frodo quickly recounted the purchases he needed to make and soon they were weaving in and out of the stalls. Merry and Pippin were now too busy eyeing the various booths to be very bored and Merry was always on the lookout for the perfect time to set his plan into motion.

They bought the candles first, thin ones and fat ones, small and tall, so that Frodo would have candles for whatever purpose he may wish, whether it was to light the tunnels or burn through the whole night, if need be. He also bought a couple of wall sconces for the wardrobe room, for the far rear corners where it was darkest, a purchase he had been planning to make for months but somehow never seemed to get around to.

The bathing oils were purchased next and in quick time. Then came the stock for the larders and pantries. Grain, milk, cream, cider, a bottle of wine to replace the one Merry had ruined that morning, and various other foodstuffs were purchased from many different stalls. Frodo hired a delivery lad to follow them about with a push cart and load the purchases as they were made. The lad would deliver everything to Bag End, including everything else they had purchased so far, while Frodo went to the tailor’s. Sam would take care of putting everything away and tipping the delivery lad.

On the way to the tailor’s shop, Merry paused in front of the healer’s booth. Once a week, the healer or her apprentice would come to market for easy access for less pressing questions the townshobbits might have. Today, the healer’s apprentice, Willow, was on duty.

“Yes, lad?” Willow asked, though she was only four years Merry’s senior. “What will you be needing, dear?”

“Dear?” Merry asked, temporarily forgetting his intent as he stared into the apprentice’s pretty face. He quickly shook himself out of his dithering and stuttered, “Well, um, there is one thing I’m hoping you’ll be able to-”

“Merry! Hurry along,” Frodo called, having noticed that Merry was no longer with him and Pippin.

Merry gave the apprentice what he hoped was a regretful and worried look, then ran to catch up with his cousins. Frodo gave him a sharp look and Merry shrugged. “She was pretty,” he said, honestly enough.

Frodo shook his head and rolled his eyes, then stepped into the stuffy and cramped tailor’s shop.

Sam, Tom and Jolly were having a much more companionable time, if not as carefree. They had their backs bent to their work, digging spades into the ground and scooping out the dirt path to make room for the stone slabs.

Though the wind was still cold and swift, the warm sun and hard work found the lads sweating in no time. They removed their shirts to keep them from getting any more soiled and progressed with their work, joking and laughing or singing the whole while. To make it go faster, they made a competition to see who could shovel the most dirt. That is to say, who would have the largest pile of dirt once they were done. They didn’t take it very seriously though and the job continued amiably until the path was dug.

They rested on their spades and looked back at what they had completed so far.

“‘Tis deep enough?” Tom asked.

Sam squinted at the path and nodded. “It is,” he said. “We need to level it now. I’ve a beam I cut last week as we could use for it.”

Jolly tossed down his spade, out of the way, and headed for the tool shed. “I saw it as I was getting the spades,” he said. “I’ll be the one squatting and leveling, I wager, seeing as my pile’s the smallest.”

Sam and Tom agreed to this easily enough. They would follow behind Jolly and level out the path, adding dirt where needed, digging more out where there was too much. This part would take a bit of time, for they’d have to go slowly to ensure the path was smooth and flat. Once that was done, it would be simple enough to haul out the stones and lay them down where they would fit, even if it would be equally slow.

“It’s a fine day,” Tom commented while they were waiting for Jolly. “Mayhap, if we finish soon enough, we can go down and get the lasses and paddle along the Pool to cool off.”

Sam considered this for a moment before nodding. He didn’t mind getting his feet wet, so long as the rest of him remained dry, and there were plenty of places along the Pool’s shore that were good for paddling. “We could do that, so long as Mr. Frodo don’t mind me leaving early,” he said. “It’s been a fair while since the five of us spent much time together. Seems every Highday of late, we’re always busy with somewhat different.”

“Aye, if we can’t get to it today, Highday after next will do, I suppose,” Tom said. He wiped his brow with a handkerchief and asked would-be casually, “How has Goldie been anyway?”

“She’s fair enough,” answered Sam. “She’s getting much better with her needlework and she’s starting to learn crochet. She’s making Gaffer a new sweater for autumn. How’s Rosie?”

“She’s fine as you could wish for,” Tom said. “Pa’s getting on her though to be less wild and more respectable, now as she’s nearly halfway through her tweens. Pa says no lad’ll want her if she’s got too much sauce, but I’m reckoning he thinks too many lads’ll want her.”

Sam wrinkled his brow and hummed at this, though he wisely held his tongue. Jolly returned at that moment, the leveling beam in hand. He grinned at them both, as though he had guessed the topic of their conversation. He nodded toward the backdoor. “If you two are done floating about in the clouds, we’ll get started now, shall we?” he said and the older lads followed him up the freshly dug path.

“Looks to be fairly smooth as is,” observed Jolly, squatting down to nearly ground level and squinting down the path toward the well. “We may be able to get this in one go.”

“We’ll see about that when we’re at the well,” Tom said.

Jolly turned around to face the porch and set the leveling beam on the ground. Without pushing down, he dragged the beam toward him until it was nearly to his knees, then backed up another foot and repeated the process. Tom and Sam followed behind, smoothing out the dips and bumps with the flat end of their spades, being sure to keep their feet off the path.

“Mr. Frodo’s kin visiting for long?” Tom asked after a time.

Sam nodded. “Couple of weeks,” he said. “Should be interesting.”

Tom and Jolly nodded knowingly at this. “Will Master Merry be joining us at the Dragon again?” Jolly asked with a chuckle.

Sam laughed in return but shook his head. “No, leastways, not as he did last time.”

“‘Tis a shame,” Tom said. “I wager we could find a wig this time around. He’d look quite the pretty lass then.”

“Now, Tom, ‘tis not proper to speak so about your betters,” Sam lectured as best he could around suppressed giggles and his wide grin.

“That’s only when they’re hereabouts to hear it,” Tom informed, when they were able to speak again. “But you’re right I suppose. That Brandybuck’s a sharp one, and he’ll not get caught in the same trap twice.”

“Look to your spades,” Jolly reminded them as they nearly missed a particularly deep hole.

Tom quickly filled it with soil, packed it down and tossed another layer of dirt over it before smoothing it all out. Sam took this opportunity to change the topic.

“When will you and Rosie be having your birthday party?” he asked Jolly. The twins usually combined their birthdays with their Uncle Will’s, seeing as they were so close together. This year, however, word had it that Wilcome the Elder would be visiting with his wife’s relatives in Michel Delving for his birthday, as his father-in-law was ill and couldn’t make the journey out.

“On the Day itself,” Jolly said. “That way, Uncle Will can still have his here, and again when he reaches Michel Delving.”

“You’ll have it at South Farm, I take it?” Sam asked.

Jolly nodded again, but it was Tom who answered. “Ma’s got it all planned already, right down to desserts. There’ll be a band, of course, and Pa’s going to be organizing games for the little ones. Aunt Rose is baking her famous five-layer wild berry cake, and Uncle Jasper’s gonna bring his trained pigeons for a show.”

“I’ve got all my presents done,” Jolly announced proudly, “and Rosie’s nearly done but for a few. That’s part of the reason she wanted to come today, to ask Goldie what you all be wanting or needing.”

“At least we’ll be able to spend some time together then, if not sooner,” Sam stated. He dug in his spade a bit to flatten out a bump and looked to see how much further they had to go, nearly thirty feet. He started humming and was soon singing, a favorite song that could repeat on a loop as long as one was able to stand it.

There was a merry passenger,
A messenger, a mariner:
He built a gilded gondola
To wander in, and had in her
A load of yellow oranges
And porridge for his provender;
He perfumed her with marjoram
And cardamom and lavender…*

Soon Jolly and Tom had joined in and the contest this time would be to see who could continue to sing it the longest.
 
 
 

To be continued…
 

* - From The Adventures of Tom Bombadil

Part III
 
 

2:00 PM

In the heart of the marketplace, in the tailor’s stuffy little shop surrounded by more fabrics than could be counted, Merry and Pippin were not singing. They weren’t humming or even whistling. In fact, they were barely conscious.

What had started as a simple pick-up had soon turned into an emergency altering. The tailor had made a nearly unprecedented error and had measured the sleeves for Frodo’s formal dining shirt two inches too short. The sleeves now had to be removed and completely redone.

“I don’t know how that happened, Mr. Baggins,” the tailor muttered for the twentieth time. “I’m most sorry for this. There will, of course, be a deduction to the fee for your inconvenience.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Frodo from the center of the room, where he stood patiently as the tailor took new measurements. He glanced over at his cousins, who were mimicking the postures they had assumed earlier in the novelty shop. “Sorry, cousins, but if this isn’t fixed now, it won’t be ready in time for Pally’s end-of-summer feast.”

“Can’t we at least go outside?” Pippin begged, looking at Frodo pleadingly. Merry simply continued staring up at the ceiling, as though he had lost all desire to blink. “I found a shawl for my mum for Yule and if I get it now, I can surprise her this year for a change.”

“The weaver will still be there once this is finished,” said Frodo. He reasoned this was a rather convenient and perfect way of keeping Merry from causing mischief. If he let Merry take Pippin to get the shawl, there was no telling what his cousin might attempt in the process.

“The weaver might be there, but the shawl might not be,” Pippin pointed out.

“I thought you said it was too early to get Yule gifts,” Frodo reminded.

Pippin didn’t miss a beat. “I did but you said you get your gifts now and that got me thinking that Mum’s always there when I go shopping and so she always knows what I get her and I can never surprise her and it’s a not a real gift if you’re not surprised but the only way I can surprise her is if I go with Da or Vinca and Da’s too impatient and doesn’t let me spend money and Vinca’s always teasing me and telling me to buy ugly things but Mum doesn’t like ugly or cheap things so I need to get it now while I have spending money and they’re not here. Please Frodo.” And then he pouted.

Frodo nearly wavered, but in the end he held his ground. There was no way he was letting Merry out of his sight if he could help it. “This will only be another few minutes. If the shawl is no longer there, I’m sure the weaver could make another if you describe it to her. You could pay for it now and when it’s finished, I’ll pick it up and keep it at Bag End until you come back for my birthday.”

Pippin pouted more and slumped into his chair. Beside him, Merry stifled an aggravated sigh.

At that moment, at Bag End, the delivery lad arrived with all of Frodo’s purchases from the marketplace. He rattled the gate as he had been instructed to do and let out a shrill whistle. At the rear of the smial, Sam and his cousins looked up and Sam waved. He dropped his spade and came to let the delivery lad in.

“Hullo, Basil,” Sam greeted, opening the gate. He motioned for the lad to follow him up the walk path to the front door.

“Hullo, Sam,” Basil greeted back and shoved the push cart up the shallow slope. He propped it to a stop at the porch and helped Sam haul the parcels inside, where they set everything down in the entryway.

“What’re ‘ee doing wit’ them spades?” Basil asked once they were finished and back outside. Jolly was still kneeling down, leveling the ground and Tom was following after. They were nearly done with their first pass through. Sam briefly explained the purpose for their project as he stepped into the study and searched the master’s desk for his coin purse. Basil stood in the entryway, listening, and shook his head slowly. “Won’t all that stone be a mite slippery?”

“No more’n grass or mud, I expect,” Sam said, getting more than a bit tired of that question. Now that he thought on it more, the stone slabs didn’t seem like such a crazy idea after all.

“No offense to ‘ee, Sam,” Basil said, “but that master of yours has-”

“What?” Sam asked sharply, coming out of the study with a couple of farthings in hand.

Basil bit back the rest of his words at Sam’s measured glare. “He’s got hisself a right fine smial,” Basil said at last. He took the coin Sam offered him and followed the gardener outside. Basil picked up the handles of his push cart and waved to Jolly and Tom, shouting farewell, and Jolly and Tom waved back, never stopping their work.

Sam watched as Basil let himself out of the gate, then reentered Bag End to put everything away. Most everything went into the pantries and larder. He put the stationery and parchment in the desk in the study, right where his master liked to keep such things. The candles he placed throughout the smial, where they looked to be needed most. The bathing oils went into the second bath, as that was the one Mr. Frodo used all the time. The wall sconces and the tinder box went into Mr. Frodo’s bedchamber, as Sam wasn’t sure what his master’s intentions were for the sconces but he did know that Mr. Frodo wanted the tinder box well-hidden; the box was to be his master’s birthday gift to Master Merry.

He left the sconces on his master’s dresser and, bringing the tinder box with him, he knelt in front of the wardrobe. The wardrobe was rather large, stained cherry oak, and was held up on large, fat feet that raised the bottom of the wardrobe off the ground by a couple of inches. He reached underneath the wardrobe and felt around on the underside of the wardrobe for the hidden compartment there that his master had told him about that morning. His fingers stumbled about clumsily, but finally he found them, to little slip-latches shaped like triangles by the feel of them. He slid both the latches toward him and heard a ‘thunk’ as the hidden compartment fell loose. He lowered his hand flush to the ground and gently brought the little drawer out with it. It crossed his mind that this could have been where old Mr. Bilbo used to keep his jewels and gold, for who would ever think to look for them in such a place, and that Mr. Frodo was placing a good store of faith in him by telling him about this secret drawer, but he dismissed those thoughts quickly as he placed the tinder box within the drawer and then concentrated on getting it back into its place. He had to fight with it a bit and was eventually obliged to lying flat on the ground to hold the drawer with one hand and fix the latches with the other.

That done, he quickly forgot all about the hidden compartment (or would forget about it, given enough time) and picked up the now-empty canvas bags in which everything had been delivered. These he would take with him when he left tonight, for his Gaffer to use when he started harvesting his potatoes. Mr. Bilbo had always given the bags to his Gaffer and Mr. Frodo had seen no reason to part from tradition.

He stored the bags in the back entryway with the berries, then stepped outside to rejoin his friends, who were now crouching low and glancing back up the path.

“What do you think, Sam?” Tom asked. “Does it need another going over?”

Sam squatted to near eye level with the ground and shook his head. “That’ll do right enough,” he declared and the three friends stood as one, Jolly rubbing his knees.

“So what’s next? Hauling all them stone slabs out here, I suppose,” Jolly said, now leaning against the leveling beam.

“They’re heavy, but not so much as we can’t all take one a piece,” Sam said. “Doesn’t really matter how we lay them down, so long as we use them all. There should be enough for the job and there should be room left in between the slabs. I’m thinking I’ll fill the spaces with some soil and then plant some grass to grow there.”

Tom nodded, envisioning what his cousin had in mind. “That’ll look right nice when it’s grown in,” he said and Jolly agreed. Tom clapped his hands together and started back up the slope to the back porch. “Let’s get started then. If we finish quickly enough, we might be able to finish in time for tea. We could go visit the lasses for a bit.”

Sam liked this idea, so they got to work. He waited for his friends to join him at the back door, then led the way back into the entryway. He selected a slab from the top of the nearest pile. Making sure that his knees were under him and his feet were planted firmly, he lifted the slab, grunting slightly under the weight, then made his way back out the door. Tom entered when Sam was out and Jolly followed in like fashion.

They quickly set a pattern, so that none of them would be crowding the other getting into or out of the door, and though the work was hard, they started singing again, right where they had left off. They were now on their fourth pass of their song and so far, none of them were tiring of it.

He passed the archipelagoes
Where yellow grows the marigold,
Where countless silver fountains are,
And mountains are of fairy-gold…*

Stone by stone, slab by slab, they slowly went about their work. The trips became more strenuous the farther along they got, but they never missed a beat of their singing, so used they were to such work. In fact, they were so wrapped up in their labor that they at first didn’t notice the audience they had acquired, until Sam looked up after laying down a particularly large slab and spotted them. He shot up quickly and nearly knocked Tom down.

“Rosie, Goldie, what’re you doing here?” he asked accusingly and tried not to notice the coy smirks on their faces.

Tom quickly set down his slab, being careful not to let it drop but not exactly paying mind to lay it down as he should. “Hullo there, Goldie,” he said.

“Good day, lads,” Rosie greeted. “The littlest ones are napping, so May said we could take a break if we like. And we very much are enjoying our break.” She looked pointedly at Sam, who just suddenly became aware of the fact that he was shirtless. “You’re looking fine, Sam.”

“Rosie,” Goldie turned to her friend and hissed, blushing nearly as brightly as Sam was. Tom just puffed out his chest more and Jolly nearly chocked on laughter as he too set down his slab and joined the others in this unexpected break.

“We brought tea,” Rosie continued and held up some water skins. Marigold was holding a bag of muffins.

“Or we could take tea now,” Tom reasoned. “Either way, we’ll be finished about the same time, I reckon.”

“I reckon,” Sam agreed, still blushing and wishing his shirt wasn’t laying on the grass by the back porch. “‘Twould be a shame for Rosie to walk all the way up here for naught again.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say it was for naught,” Rosie teased, causing Sam to blush even brighter than before.

“Lor’ bless me if I ever become as hopeless as the two of you,” Jolly said and, shaking with laughter, went to join his sister at the fence.
 

3:00 PM

Pippin burst out of the tailor’s shop with a shout of glee. Merry followed close behind, keeping his enthusiasm a little better concealed. He glanced quickly to the right and thanked the stars above that the healer’s apprentice was still there, though it looked like she would be closing shop soon. He would have to move quickly.

Frodo emerged behind him and patted him on the back. “Come along, Merry,” he said. “Let’s get Pippin that shawl, then we’ll pop back into Mable’s for tea before going home.”

Merry and Frodo trailed behind Pippin, who was making a beeline for the weaver’s booth. By the time they caught up, Pippin was frowning at the remaining shawls. “It’s gone,” he stated.

“I’m sorry Pippin,” Frodo said sympathetically before turning to the weaver. “Will you be able to remake the shawl, if my cousin can describe it to you?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Baggins,” the weaver said. She looked down at Pippin, waiting for the description, but it was not forthcoming.

Pippin was frowning deeply and didn’t seem to notice his waiting audience as he scanned the other items. Finally, he shook his head and said, “No, I’ve changed my mind. I think she’ll like a rug better instead, for the kitchen,” and then proceeded to dig through the highest-stacked pile. He started at the bottom of the stack, pulling rugs out randomly to get a better look at them.

“Be careful, Pippin, or you’re going to spill them,” Frodo warned.

No sooner did he speak the words than Pippin pulled out a rug at such an angle and with such force that the whole pile tottered and began to topple over. Both Frodo and the weaver leapt forward in an attempt to prevent the stack from falling but they were too late. The pile crashed to the ground and rugs were lying happenstance everywhere.

“Sorry,” Pippin said and winked at Merry as Frodo stooped down to help the weaver clean the mess. Merry winked back and slipped away. Within moments, he was standing in front of the apprentice’s booth once again. A quick glance around showed him that there were still plenty of shoppers and vendors nearby. Not as many as he would have liked, but it mattered not; good rumors had a way of spreading quickly.

“Hullo again,” Willow said, remembering him from before. “Can I help you now, dear?”

Merry glanced back over his shoulder at Frodo then turned back, worry stitched all over his face. “I certainly hope so,” he said, his voice raised just enough to carry over the din of shoppers and vendors, “because it’s not for me, it’s for my cousin, Frodo Baggins.”

“Oh?” said the apprentice and immediately several nearby shoppers slowed down and eavesdropped conspicuously.

Merry nodded gravely. “You see, he’s had this problem for a while now and I keep telling him to go to the healer, but he’s so deathly embarrassed about it that he refuses to do so. He keeps insisting it will go away on its own, but it keeps getting worse so far as I can tell.”

“Well, whatever is the matter?” Willow asked and now several shoppers were standing about, pretending to browse while they waited for the pronouncement.

Merry leaned over as if to whisper the answer, but the whisper wasn’t much lower than his normal speaking voice. As he leaned over, so did several of the other nearby hobbits. “He is, what’s the word? Costive,” informed Merry. “He’s got his pipes all clogged up, as you might say, and he’s not dropped a stone since mid-Astron.”

“Mid-Astron?” exclaimed an elderly hobbitess. “I’ve not heard of it going that long. Why, he should be dead!”

“You would think so,” Merry replied gravely, “which is why I’m so very worried about him.”

“Isn’t he eating enough grain?” asked the blacksmith.

“He is. That’s the odd thing. He can eat an entire loaf all by himself in one day,” Merry intoned. He glanced behind him to check on his cousins; Pippin had just toppled another pile of rugs right on top of Frodo, after tripping backwards and stepping on Frodo’s foot.

“Does he have any other symptoms?” the pretty apprentice asked.

Merry nodded. “He gets extremely pale, more so than usual anyway, and he’ll break out into cold sweats when its really bad. He’ll run to the privy only to have nothing come of it, other than the most horrendous smell, that covers nearly the entire top of the Hill. I almost thought I’d die twice from the fumes, just this morning alone.”

“He’s not got hisself a sweet tooth, has he?” asked a young mother with a bairn on her hip. “Or eating too much meat and not enough to go with it?”

“He eats quite regular,” Merry said.

“And he’s still getting no fruit for his labor?” asked a young lad, who appeared to be about Pippin’s age.

“Not since mid-Astron,” reminded a baker.

“I think it might be some odd allergy or something,” Merry suggested.

“I need to know for certain before I can help him,” Willow said.

“Since mid-Astron!” exclaimed a newcomer at the back of the crowd. “It’s a wonder he can walk at all.”

“There must be something you can suggest, a standard remedy,” Merry pleaded now. “Something needs to be done now. I’d hate to see the condition he’ll be in after another four months, or even four days.”

“Let’s see what I can mix up,” Willow offered and started rummaging through her supplies. Now that the talk was turning to business, the standers-by went back to their shopping and the vendors went back to their booths, but they were whispering excitedly amongst themselves, already spreading the word about Mr. Frodo’s unfortunate health condition. At that same instant, Pippin completed his purchase of a tea cozy and Frodo spotted Merry across the square.

“How long has Merry been over there?” Frodo asked Pippin as the lad slowly counted his change.

Pippin shrugged. “I don’t know. How long?”

“Let’s go,” Frodo said. He was ready to leave and go home, and he didn’t like the look of the dispersing crowd that had surrounded the healer’s booth just moments before. He could only hope that Merry was making a fool of himself flirting with the pretty apprentice but he feared that wasn’t so.

He led Pippin across the square, slightly favoring his injured foot, and noticed that many shoppers were giving him sympathetic looks. One gammer came up and patted him on the arm. “I do hope you start feeling better soon, Mr. Baggins.”

“I feel fine,” Frodo said, baffled.

The gammer then patted him on the cheek and clucked her tongue. “Such a brave heart,” she murmured and went back to her shopping. The other gammers with her nodded in agreement.

Frodo narrowed his eyes at the back of Merry’s head and marched toward his cousin as best he could, no longer caring if Pippin was keeping up. He was nearly to his destination and was readying to strangle Merry for whatever he had done when the blacksmith whistled to him and shouted across the square, “Oi! Mr. Baggins! I just now remembered. Last time I was knotted up like a rope, me missus had me drink some castor oil. ‘Tis nasty stuff but it gets the job done.”

“I’ve found that rosemary and thyme covers the smell quite nicely,” put in a post messenger standing outside the post office.

“Thank you, I will keep that in mind,” Frodo said as civilly as he could through clenched teeth. He crossed the remaining distance to the healer’s booth and seethed, “Merry.”

Merry turned around and feigned innocence. “Oh Frodo, there you are. I was just talking to Willow here. Did you know she’s been the healer’s apprentice for two years now?”

“Merry,” Frodo said again, fighting for calm and failing miserably. “What did you do?”

“Now, Mr. Baggins, Master Merry was only concerned for you,” Willow said, trying to soothe the infuriated Master of the Hill. “You have a serious condition. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about either. Everyone gets costive from time to time, though I never heard of it lasting this long. You really should have come to my mistress sooner, but I think this mixture will help. It’s quite strong.”

“There is nothing wrong with me,” Frodo said. “I thank you for your concern, but the only one who will be needing your services after today is Merry.”

“He’d said you were denying it,” Willow intoned gravely. “Now, put this in your tea, two pinches a cup, four times a day to start. After you’re loosened up a bit, you can take it down to three.”

She held the pouch of herbs out to him. Frodo did his best not to direct his anger at the lass and Merry did his best not to smile goofily and burst into tearful laughter. This had worked perfectly! He would have to thank Dody and Ilby when he returned to Brandy Hall for gifting him with this idea.

Frodo ignored the offered herbs and instead grabbed onto Merry’s arm with an iron grip. He pulled his cousin from the booth and once they were far enough away, he hissed into Merry’s ear, “You will pay for this, Meriadoc Brandybuck, make no mistake about that.”

“What’s wrong, Cousin? Can’t take your own medicine?” Merry asked and finally lost control of his laughter. He doubled over with mirth, tears springing to his eyes, and was soon grasping at a stitch in his side.

Frodo could only stand there, glaring at his cousin as more passersby wished him his health and offered up advice. If that wasn’t enough, a young lad of about seven years whispered rather loudly to his sister, “I heard it from Tory that he hasn’t done number two in four months. That must be a record.”

This of course sent Merry into another laughing fit, just as Pippin tugged on Frodo’s shirt. “What Pip?” Frodo asked.

“I went back and got a shawl. Do you think it matches the tea cozy?” Pippin asked and held up the two items, which were quite mismatched. “Oh, and the weaver said that if your plumbing’s backed up, you should get it flushed, but I told her there was nothing wrong with your plumbing. There isn’t, is there?”

Merry was now laughing so hard he could barely stand and he had since ceased to breathe properly. Pippin continued to look up at Frodo, the picture of innocence with his tea cozy and shawl.

“I need a drink,” Frodo said.

“We’re going for tea now?” Pippin asked but Frodo walked past Mable’s and into The Ivy Bush. He sat against the far wall in the dimmest lit booth, Merry and Pippin across from him, Merry still chuckling and wiping tears from his eyes and Pippin looking curiously between the two.

The barkeep brought Frodo a tankard before he could even order one, and Frodo gratefully gulped down the draught – only to choke it back and spit it out an instant later. The brew was so strong, Frodo’s eyes instantly watered up and his face flushed scarlet. Frodo looked more closely at the tankard, then up at the hovering and expectant barkeep. “What is this?” he demanded.

“‘Tis me strongest malt liquor, mixed with cordial to help it go down,” the barkeep announced. “That’ll unclog you, if naught else does, and a lot quicker’n those healer’s herbs. On the house.” He turned about and walked away as Merry dissolved into giggles once again.

“Frodo, you’re clogged up?” Pippin asked.

Frodo did not respond, only tipped his head back and took another swig. Oh yes, Merry would most definitely pay for this.
 

4:00 PM

Sam, Tom, Jolly, Rosie and Marigold sat in a circle against the well in the lengthening shade cast from Bag End, passing around the last of the tea and laughing at a joke Jolly had just finished telling. The last hour had passed without their knowledge, so wrapped up they were in each other’s company.

Sam had donned his shirt shortly after the lasses arrived. Jolly and Tom now also wore their shirts, but unbuttoned still. Rosie, not one to be daunted by the shyness of her friend, had instantly made herself comfortable at Sam’s side. Marigold sat on her brother’s right, with Tom beside her and Jolly between his two siblings.

“Whoever takes the last sip of tea tells the next story,” Jolly said and passed the near-empty water skin to Tom.

The rules of this game were simple. Everyone had to take a drink of the tea, and no one could tell a story twice in a row. Tom tested the weight of the water skin and swished the tea inside to determine how much was left. Then he filled his cup halfway and indicated with a wink and a nod toward Sam that Marigold should do the same. Goldie caught the meaning and filled her cup halfway also before passing the water skin to Sam.

Sam too felt the water skin and knew he had one of two options. He could fill his cup just enough to coat the bottom and give Rosie the last serving, or he could finish the tea himself and risk telling whatever story Jolly demanded of him. Knowing he would likely live to regret this, he emptied the water skin into his cup and shrugged as he passed it to Rosie.

“Looks as though it’s me,” Sam said. “What am I telling then, Jolly?”

Jolly grinned impishly and turned to look at his brother. A spark of understanding passed between them and Jolly nodded at Tom’s wink. “Tell us, Sam, about your first kiss, or who you want your first kiss to be with.”

“Er,” Sam muttered with a sideways glance at Rosie, who was watching him intently. He could feel the blush as it raced up his neck to his face, and wouldn’t have been surprised if someone told him he was brighter than a ripe tomato.

As if to make things worse, Goldie said, “Sam’s not kissed no one yet.”

“Goldie!” Sam hissed, as Tom and Jolly laughed.

“So then who will be the lucky first lass?” Jolly asked.

“I don’t know, as it hasn’t happened yet,” Sam answered, hoping that would suffice and knowing it wouldn’t.

“No, come on now, Sam, remember what Jolly said: who do you want it to be with,” Tom said.

“Yes, Sam, who do you want it to be?” Rosie asked, a spark in her own eyes, but not one of mischief.

“Um,” Sam said, suddenly breathless under that keen gaze. “Well, I, um…”

A commotion at the gate saved Sam from having to answer. His master had returned from market at last.

Sam jumped up, horrified to be caught lazing about while there was work to be finished, noting for the first time that nearly an hour had passed since they first sat down to tea. How had they lost track of the time so badly? They should have finished laying the stones by now!

The others were equally horrified, and the lasses doubly so, for they should have returned to help May long before now and they had known all along that they shouldn’t have even been at Bag End. They scurried about to clean up from tea and Sam was frantically putting together an apology or explanation of some sort.

Mr. Frodo walked toward them, a storm in his icy glare, and Master Merry and Master Pippin followed close behind. Master Pippin looked a mix between amused and subdued, whilst Master Merry was just plain amused and more than a bit smug.

“Master, I can explain,” Sam started but his master wasn’t listening.

Mr. Frodo looked down at the half-finished walk path. “I see you aren’t finished,” he stated. “Good.”

“Good?” Sam asked.

“Yes, this is perfect actually. Merry and Pippin can help you with the rest of it.”

This gave everyone pause and for the first time in an hour, Merry’s smug smile faded ever so slightly. “What?” he asked. He knew Frodo was angry, but he couldn’t be serious. “Why Pippin?”

“Because he helped you,” Frodo stated.

“He did not.”

“I am not a buffoon, Meriadoc,” Frodo shot back, not caring if Sam and his friends saw him angry. “I know he helped you. This is your retribution and neither of you are to be helped. You’ll carry those stones and you’ll do as Sam tells you. Understand, Samwise?”

“I do, but it’s really not necessary, Master,” Sam said, amazed that he was keeping his voice from shaking. He had never seen his master so angry as he was right now, and it was more than a bit chilling. “I know we’re a bit behind, but Tom, Jolly and I’ll have this finished in no time.”

“They can still help you,” Frodo stated. “Five pairs of hands are better than three.”

“I can’t disagree with that sir, but Master Pippin’s a mite young, if you don’t mind me saying so, sir,” Sam said.

Frodo looked at his gardener, the icy glare turned somehow even colder. When he spoke, his voice was perfectly calm, a dangerous contradiction to his stern expression. “They’re helping you.”

“Yes sir,” Sam said, and watched with the others as Frodo turned and walked up the half-finished path and entered the smial through the back door. The door slammed shut, a loud wooden shout in the stunned silence that filled the garden.

After a time, Tom leaned into Sam’s side and whispered in his ear, “What was that about? Why is he angry with you?”

“I think I may have given him some bad advice,” Sam answered miserably. He’d never had his master angry with him before and he didn’t like it.

“What’d you tell him?” Tom asked.

Sam glanced over at Merry and Pippin, and Merry was once again grinning smugly, too proud of himself to be deflated for too long. “‘Let him get you’,” Sam quoted. “I figured it’d be better than trying to dodge him for the next two weeks. I guess I was wrong.”

The lasses left then with hasty good-byes. While they weren’t looking forward to May’s wrath, it would be a hundred times better than Mr. Frodo’s. They dashed out of the garden and were through the gate and down the lane before anyone could blink.

“Well, let’s get started,” Sam said.

“You go open the door,” Jolly whispered and gave Sam a little nudge.

“Don’t be silly Jolly. We’ll have to go in to get the rocks anyway,” Tom said but he held back despite his words until Sam took the first step forward.

Merry watched as Sam and his cousins approached the back door with careful and silent steps. He turned to Pippin and slapped him supportively on the back. “Well, Pip, seems Frodo’s determined to teach us a lesson. Let’s go then, shall we,” he said, his smirk still securely in place.

Pippin grumbled. He was not happy with the outcome of today’s events. He knew all along that he would end up in trouble, no matter what Merry had said. Yet he had gone along anyway and now he was stuck having to haul stones that were easily as heavy as he was. Why did he always listen to Merry?

“Come on, it won’t be so bad,” Merry assured when Pippin didn’t budge. “The two of us together will have no trouble carrying one of those stones. With Sam, Tom and Jolly working, this will be done in no time anyway. We’ll probably wind up only having to make a few trips.”

Pippin glared up at Merry, who had clearly missed the reason Pippin was upset. He huffed out his frustration and followed his cousin to the back door. They both stood outside and out of the way to watch how the others lifted the stones. First, they stooped down. Then, they lifted the slabs just enough to steady them on their knees. Next, they secured their arms beneath the stones, and finally stood up with them, leaning back just slightly to regain their balance and rest the stones on their bellies, taking some of the weight off their arms and onto their more steady back and legs. They then walked steadily out of the door and down the path, their feet wide apart for more stability.

“We can do that,” Merry said when Jolly, the last of the three, exited the foyer. Pippin just continued to glare up at him. “Here, I’ll carry the stones, you just follow along beside me and pretend that you’re helping me to steady them. There’s no need for you to do more than you need to.”

Pippin agreed to this with a shrug and watched worriedly as Merry mimicked the other lads. He stooped down to kneel before the next slab, which was easily more than Pippin’s weight, but Merry wasn’t too concerned. He had carried Pippin around many times before, mostly in play, and he figured this wouldn’t be too different from that. He reached over, shimmied the topmost slab so that it rested a little bit off of the others, then wrapped his hands around either edge and hefted it with a heave.

At first, he thought his arms had been ripped from their sockets, so great was the pain, but upon realizing that he was still fully intact, he understood that his body was simply refusing to do the job set for it. The slab hadn’t moved an inch off the pile. He blew his curls out of his eyes, then tried again, shimmying the slab off the pile a bit more to get a better grip, this time not just with his fingers, but with his forearms as well. He steadied himself a bit more than before and used all his strength this time. He managed to get the slab onto his knees, but only just, and then he had to fight to not let the weight crush his knees to the floor. He hurriedly repositioned the stone so that it rested on his legs, which helped somewhat, but he still needed to stand with the blasted thing and then walk down the path to put it in its place. With a growing sense of dread, he realized that the end of the path would only get farther and farther away, while he would get more and more weary. Oh, but Frodo had chosen his punishment well.

Merry paused for a moment to catch his breath, which was already coming short and fast, while Pippin stood back and watched his cousin with increasing alarm. Merry wasn’t used to such labor, unlike the other lads, and while they had made this look easy, it was like moving a mountain for his cousin. Yet Merry didn’t complain. He waited for the space of half a minute, then secured the stone beneath his arms and stood on shaking, protesting legs. He stumbled backward a few steps, but quickly steadied himself, panting and sweating already. He turned to the door to find the other lads already back and waiting for him to clear the way. He grimaced a smile and shuffled his way out of the foyer, Pippin beside him, his hands up to hold the bottom of the stone and take some of its weight off his cousin.

“Just don’t drop it on me,” Pippin said.

“I won’t… drop… it.” Merry strained, concentrating on shuffling down the path and avoiding stepping into one of the cracks. The last thing he needed to do was trip and sprain his ankle, and likely drop the stone on Pippin in the process. He didn’t even notice as Sam, then Jolly, then Tom passed them up, until he reached the end and Sam told him where to place his slab. Jolly and Tom exchanged looks with Sam, then went back to retrieve their next slabs. Sam stayed behind, a look of apology in his brown eyes.

Merry carefully stooped back down and put the stone where indicated, grunting and huffing all the while. He set the slab down and sighed with relief. He looked up at Sam from this position, his breath ragged, his muscles burning, and sweat dripping down his face. Sam looked down at him, and he burned with shame that the gardener wasn’t even panting and had barely broken a sweat. Pippin, who had only taken a slight weight off Merry, was also winded and glistening with sweat. How did Sam and his friends make this look so easy?

“Tom, Jolly and I will have all these stones laid out in no time,” Sam stated, and Merry was certain he could hear pity in his voice. “I figure it’d be easier, on Master Pippin at any rate, if you two took up some spades and started filling the cracks with soil, and then load up the wheel barrow with the excess dirt and haul it to the compost heaps. That is, if you’re wanting.”

“Frodo said we were to carry the rocks,” Merry pointed out.

“Aye, but he also said you was to listen to me, meaning no disrespect,” Sam said. “I’ll take the brunt of his wrath if he gets upset by it.”

Merry nodded grudgingly. “Very well,” he said and forced himself to stand up. His knees were wobbly, but he managed to stay upright. Jolly and Tom passed him again, each with their own stone, and Merry remembered with a stab of shame that Jolly was two years his junior.

Sam walked past them back to the foyer and Merry swallowed his pride, hurtful though it was. If it were him alone, he would work himself to the bone to prove that he could keep up with the other lads, but he had Pippin to think about. He nodded to Pippin. “Let’s go,” he mumbled and looked about for the spades and soil.

“Frodo won’t consider this helping us?” Pippin asked of Sam’s plans.

“If he does, I’m sure he’ll say something,” Merry reasoned. “But since his precious Sam told us to do it, I’m betting he won’t say anything against it.” He handed a spade to Pippin and then, being sure to keep out of the way as the other lads came and went, they started to fill in the cracks with the soil.

From the kitchen window, Frodo watched his cousins work while he waited for the water to boil and the meat to brown. He shouldn’t have been so hasty in dictating their punishment and he rather regretted it now. He didn’t want his cousins hurt after all, and that seemed a likely outcome as they struggled with the first slab. He was glad when Sam stopped them and, after a word, his cousins changed to an easier job. Still, that likewise meant that Merry and Pippin were getting off rather easy for what they had done to Frodo, but he had already thought of another way to punish them for their humiliating prank at the marketplace.

After the meat was ready and the water bubbling, Frodo left the window and trotted to the pantries to retrieve the rest of the things he would need. He would make not only a main course, but dessert as well. He paused in the tunnel when he saw Sam readying to take his next slab and whistled to him. Sam looked up. “Thank you for looking after them,” Frodo said.

“I’m sorry I gave you bad advice, sir,” Sam said.

“No, you were right. Better to get it over and done with. I’m sorry for scolding you. You didn’t deserve it. Just do me a favor and keep them busy and out of my hair for a while,” Frodo said.

“Sure thing, Master,” Sam said.

“When you get close to finishing, let me know and I’ll draw them baths. You and the Cotton lads are invited to join us for dinner, naturally,” Frodo said. Sam nodded happily to this and went off with a hurry.

Frodo returned to the kitchen to see to the food. The meal was baking in the oven when Sam gave the signal that they would be finishing up soon. Frodo nodded out the window, then headed off first to the guest bath then his own private bath to draw water. He lit the fires and started the water to heating, then filled up two more buckets of cool water and poured those directly into the tub. He left the other water to boil and returned to the kitchen to begin afters, occasionally peeking out the window to watch his cousins work and make sure they weren’t slacking.

When Sam looked up at the window a half hour later and nodded that they were as good as done, Frodo returned to the baths to take the water off the fires and pour the heated water into the tubs. Then he hurried back to the kitchen to toss a quick salad and start the pie baking. When that was in order, he went outside to fetch his cousins. They happily dropped their spades and followed him into the smial.

“Frodo, we’re sorry, we…” Merry started.

“No need, Merry,” Frodo said. “Go on, take my bathing room. Pip, you take the guest bath. Take your time. Dinner will be waiting when you’re done, and I’m making your favorites – pot roast and apple crumble pie.”

“Good, because I’m famished,” Pippin said as his stomach grumbled to back up his words. He trotted down the tunnel to the guest bath, but Merry remained.

“He didn’t really want to help me,” Merry said to Frodo.

“Yet he still did,” Frodo replied. “I’m sorry if I humiliated you before, Merry. You paid me back good and proper. I think we will both think a little more the next time we decide to play such pranks.”

Merry nodded. “I know I certainly will,” he agreed, then went off to his own bath.

Oh, and Frodo would too. He would never think to humiliate his cousins again. However, playing a harmless prank was still in game, and he did owe Merry more than a few, especially since Merry had been lying through his teeth about being sorry.

He waited until both his cousins were securely in their baths, the doors closed shut, then went to the wardrobe in the kitchenette and pulled out two lengths of string. He paused just briefly, wondering if perhaps he was being too cruel to deprive hard-working hobbits a well-earned meal, but when he thought of the inquiries about his health he’d have to put up with for the next several weeks, that decided him. He tiptoed silently to the first guest bath and tied a rope to the handle of the door, then tied the other end of the rope to the pantry door next to bath. He tied the rope taunt, then trotted down to the other end of the tunnel to his private bath and repeated the process there. He smiled at his handy work and nodded with satisfaction. Simple but effective. Neither of his dear cousins would be emerging any time soon.

He twirled around and went outside to retrieve his helpers.
 

5:00 PM

Sam and his friends finished planting the last of the grass seeds, then put everything into the tool shed. Once that was locked and secure, they went to the well, admiring their handy work as they went. Tom winched up a bucket and dipped a clean rag into the cool water to clean themselves up with.

“I have to admit, once the grass grows in it’ll look a fair sight,” Jolly said.

“I’m just glad Mr. Baggins didn’t take ill to us giving his cousins the easy job,” Tom said. He washed off the last of the sweat and grime from his arms, then dunked the rag again and handed it to Sam. “I’m none too sure about dining with them all though.”

“Mr. Frodo will take it as an insult if we don’t go in,” Sam said. They couldn’t have that, the Master of the Hill feeling offended because of them.

At that moment, Mr. Frodo emerged from the hole and called out to them. “Dinner’s ready when you are!”

“We’ll be right there, Master,” Sam called back. He handed the rag to Jolly, who made quick work of cleaning up. Sam let the bucket drop back into the well and the three friends scuttled up the path to the back door. Sam dropped the rag with the other things he would be taking home, then knocking once, let himself and his cousins in.

They found Frodo in the kitchen, setting the table there for four rather than six. They quirked their eyebrows amongst themselves. “Mr. Frodo?” Sam started.

“Oh, there you are,” Mr. Frodo said with a cheery smile. “Go on and take a seat. I’ll get the food.”

“Um, sir?”

“No need to help, Sam,” Mr. Frodo went on, breezing about the kitchen and placing food on the table as though everything were normal. “You and your cousins are not to lift a finger, except to eat.”

Tom and Jolly shrugged it off and sat down, feeling more than a bit uncomfortable. Sam followed their lead, once again obliged to sit at the head of the table. He wanted to know as much as they did what had become of Master Merry and Master Pippin, but it wasn’t their place to ask. They waited until Mr. Frodo took his seat before digging in to eat.

Down the tunnel, Merry was still luxuriating in his bath, not able to believe his good luck. Not only had he got Frodo back, but his punishment had been a cakewalk. Frodo was getting soft in his old age.

He sloshed about in the tub, thinking he would let Frodo wait just a few minutes longer to start eating, but then his stomach growled, telling him is was time to eat. The bath water was beginning to cool anyway. He hurried to wash the soap from his hair, then stepped out of the bath. He stretched languorously, not even the least bit sore from that slab he’d had to carry. It hadn’t been all that heavy, now that he thought of it. If not for Pippin, he would have easily been able to keep up with the others.

He picked a towel off the rack and dried himself and ruffled up his hair. He realized too late that he should have brought a change of clothes in with him, but he figured he could easily enough walk across the tunnel to his room to retrieve fresh clothing before going to table. He wrapped the towel around his waist and stumbled over to the door, yawning widely all of sudden. He would not be staying up very late tonight, not after all the excitement the day had brought, and would likely pass out soon after dinner, especially if that pot roast tasted as good as it smelled. Frodo might not be a whiz in the kitchen, but he was a decent cook and pot roast was one of the few dishes Frodo excelled at. Merry’s mouth watered just thinking about it.

Merry reached for the door knob, twisted it, pulled and… nothing happened. Now, really, he knew he was a little bit tired, but certainly he could at least open up a dratted door! Merry pulled on the knob again, and again got nothing for his effort. He rattled the knob and pulled, pushed against the door and pulled, then tried rattling the knob as he pushed and then pulled. Still nothing. At last, he stood back and squinted at the stubborn door. What was going on? The knob was turning, why wasn’t the door op… No, surely Frodo wouldn’t have… He wouldn’t! He wouldn’t lock Merry in here while his pot roast was waiting to be eaten! Would he? There was only one way to find out.

“Frodo!” he called. “Are you there?”

Sam, Tom and Jolly paused in their eating. They had heard the racket from down the tunnel and now they were certain they had heard Master Merry’s voice. Yet Mr. Frodo was acting as though he didn’t notice.

“Did you know that pot roast is Merry’s most favorite dish?” Mr. Frodo said happily. “Aunt Esme showed me how to make it just like hers.”

Another faint plea from down the tunnel. “Frodo! Are you there! Um, I seem to have locked myself inside the bath somehow! Silly me. Could you let me out please?”

Mr. Frodo speared a piece of roast and placed it in his mouth. Just then, from the opposite direction, another racket could be heard from the other bathing room. Master Pippin was now asking if there was something wrong with his door.

“After Sam gave me cooking lessons,” Mr. Frodo continued without a blink, “I felt a bit more confident asking Esme to show me how to make it. So when I went back for Yule that year, she showed me what to do and I made it every night until I had it right. Merry was quite pleased that Yule, I must say.”

“Merry! Frodo! I’m hungry!”

Then Master Merry, who now sounded angry enough to scare a dragon. “FRODO! Let me out of here RIGHT NOW!”

“Oh, and let me tell you about how I learned to make apple crumble,” Frodo went on, oblivious to the fact that his guests were now only picking at their food while simultaneously hoping that they could hurry up and finish so they could leave. “That’s one of Esme’s receipts also, and it’s not only Pippin’s favorite, but my own as well. Two reasons to learn how to make that.”

“Merry? Frodo?” Master Pippin’s uncertain voice called out. “You’re not eating without me are you?”

Jolly and Tom fidgeted in their seats, while Sam just felt horrified. What was his master thinking, keeping his cousins from coming to table? “Master,” he managed.

“More wine?” Frodo reached over and poured more wine into Sam’s goblet, though it was still half full. He nodded with satisfaction and continued with his story. “You see, it was just after the Lithe days and we were all at Whitwell, as is customary of Aunt Tina to have a family gathering there at that time. They were going to make apple crumble, and since Merry and Pippin were off by themselves playing, I went in to help them.”

“FRODO! When Father hears about this, he will not be pleased!” Master Merry’s temper was only getting worse. “Let me out of here or… or… I’ll tell Sam about that time you kissed his sister!”

Sam, Tom and Jolly shot their heads up and turned to look at Frodo. Sam was thinking hard. “That time at the Free Fair?” he asked.

“It wasn’t Marigold?” Tom asked.

“No it was Daisy,” Frodo answered. “She and her friends were playing ‘Truth or Consequences’ and I just happened to be the next lad to walk past them. … It was ten years ago.”

“Oh.”

Merry pounded on the door until his fists turned red. He screamed and hollered, and he was certain there were times when he could hear Pippin doing the same at the other end of the smial. He screamed until his voice went hoarse, then he finally gave up and slumped onto the bathing room floor.

He couldn’t believe this! His own cousin, his Frodo, denying him food! It was unheard of for anyone to use food as a form of punishment. He was sure there must be a law against this in the books in Michel Delving. This was… it was… inconceivable! It was just wrong! Was there no end to Frodo’s diabolical ways?

Pippin was in a similar position. He hadn’t beaten his fist to a pulp or cried his voice out, but after at least a dozen attempts to call for help, he realized no one was coming. Frodo must have locked the door somehow and he wasn’t going to let him out until he was ready to. Pippin’s dreams of apple crumble topped with whipped cream melting in his mouth were shattered. He sighed and lay down on the floor, ready to make bed there for the night if need be. Why did he always listen to Merry and his hair-brained ideas?

Frodo finished off his meal with a flourish. “And that’s how I learned to make apple crumble, and as you can plainly see, the flaming bunt cake was in no way my fault, though Merry will likely tell you otherwise,” he finished his story at the same time. “Are you lads not hungry?”

For Sam, Tom and Jolly had hardly touched their food. Even after the protests had died down, they could still imagine Master Merry and Master Pippin trapped in their baths, hungry and anxious to eat. It didn’t seem right somehow to eat when the young masters weren’t able to. Yet now that Mr. Frodo was done with his story-telling and watching them, they would have to finish eating or risk insulting the Master. They set to it, hardly chewing their food in their rush to finish, and insisted that one serving would make do. They did the same with dessert and quickly rose to their feet as one before Mr. Frodo could serve them more.

“Leaving so soon?” Mr. Frodo asked, baffled. “There’s plenty more.”

“We best be going, Mr. Baggins,” Tom said. “We’ve still to fetch our sister and we’ve got to be getting home afore our parents start to worry.”

“And I’ve got to be getting Goldie and May home also, and we’ve got to hurry to get dinner of our own made,” Sam said. “Gaffer gets grouchy when his food’s not to table on time.”

“Very well,” Mr. Frodo conceded. He followed his guests to the back door and waited while Sam retrieved his things. “Thank so much for your help today. It’s much appreciated.”

“You’re quite welcome, Mr. Baggins. Anything to help Sam,” Tom said with a respectful bow. Jolly bowed next and together the brothers backed out of the smial.

Sam nodded to his master. “Night, sir,” was all he could think to say.

“Good night Sam. Take care. See you in the morning.”

“Aye sir.”

He followed his cousins down the path and through the garden, and not until the door clicked to behind them did they let out collective sighs of relief. They let themselves out the gate and trotted down the lane, faster than was necessary. When Bag End was no longer in sight, Tom let out a low whistle.

“I don’t mean no disrespect by you and yours, Sam, but I do believe your master’s finally cracked,” he said.

And for once in his life, Sam couldn’t disagree.
 

9:00 PM

Frodo untied the ropes that secured the bathing room doors and, one by one, gently nudged his cousins awake. “Come eat,” he whispered, handing them each a fresh pair of night gowns in their turn. “Then off to bed.”

Pippin woke with a yawn and shuffled out the door, bumping into things as he went along. He sat at the table and groggily dug into his reheated food. Merry didn’t fully awaken until he was sitting at the table, supported by Frodo. He brushed his cousin off and glared up at him.

“I’m not even going to bother getting back at you for this,” he said. “While I have my limits, you’re obviously willing to do anything to make your point. I’ll never be able to win.”

“You’re not just saying that so I’ll be off my guard, are you?” Frodo said.

“Maybe.” But what he really meant was, ‘Maybe not to today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday, Frodo Baggins, when you least suspect it.’
 
 

The End.
 

* - from The Adventures of Tom Bombadil.
 

GF 1/13/06