A/N This story was written in Dec 2005 for a Yule Challenge on another site. It has been edited for this archive.

BRANDY HALL: A Yule Challenge fic for Cathleen

Author: Shireling

Rating: G

Warnings: none (spanking aside!)

The pony and trap bounced along the frost hardened path, jolting the three passengers as the wheels bounced in and out of the deep ruts in the well traversed byway. Bilbo, on the front board, held the reins lightly and allowed the pony to find the easiest route, only paying attention when the animal faltered.

“How much longer, Bilbo?” Frodo’s voice filtered up from the depths of his nest in the back of the wagon.

“We should be in hailing distance of the ferry soon, Lad. We’ll be tucked up inside Brandy Hall in time for afternoon tea,” the elder Hobbit assured his young ward. “How’s young Sam?”

Frodo lifted up the edge of a blanket and peered beneath to catch a glimpse of his friend. “Still sleeping, by the looks of things,” Frodo chuckled, tucking the blanket back to keep out the icy chill.

“That lad could sleep on the edge of a blade.” Bilbo’s comment caused them both to chuckle and he patted the seat next to him in an unspoken invitation for Frodo to move up beside him.

“Well the Gaffer works him hard; I guess he has mastered the knack of catching a rest whenever the opportunity finds him.” Frodo said as he settled on the bench and pulled his blanket tight about him.

“Aye, ‘just a catnap, Mr Bilbo’ as the lad would say.”

“Not what the Gaffer said last time he caught him, either. ‘Samwise Gamgee, if you’ve a time for lollygaggin’ I’ll easy find you more to do’.” Frodo said, in a fair imitation of the Gaffer, causing Bilbo to chuckle.

“Frodo, while we have a moment, there is something I need you talk to you about.” Bilbo’s serious expression warned Frodo that this was not a light matter; it was rare for Bilbo to adopt such a serious tone and for a moment Frodo wondered what was amiss.

“Is there a problem, Bilbo?”

“No, no, Lad. I just need you to be particularly careful that you help Sam to feel at ease when we are at the Hall.”

“Why wouldn’t he feel at ease, Bilbo?”

Bilbo sighed and smiled sadly on his soft-hearted nephew. “Frodo, it was very good of you to invite Sam to join us for the midwinter celebrations but you must remember that Brandy Hall is very different to Hobbiton and to the scale of the celebrations that Sam is use to on Bagshot Row. You know the Hall and many of its inhabitants but Sam will be a stranger to most; he will need you to keep an eye out for him, not least so that he doesn’t get lost.”

“But, he’ll know lots of people: Merry, Pippin and the girls, Fatty and Folco. . .”

“Yes, but they are your friends, Frodo. Sam doesn’t usually move in the same circles as you, does he?”

“But he’s my friend!”

“I know that, Lad. And I am more than happy that he has your friendship but, whether you like it or not, Sam is a working Hobbit and there are some folk who will resent the fact that he is here as a guest.”

“Well, that is their problem; Aunt Esme would never have him treated badly beneath her roof.”

“No she would not, and it is much to her credit that I can say that, but there are others who are very conscious of their status and who would have no hesitation in pointing out to Sam that he is reaching above his status.”

“Then they will have to deal with me,” Frodo promised with the flash of Baggins’ determination in his gaze. Bilbo patted his hand.

“Good Lad, I knew I could rely on you.”

“Bilbo. Why should anyone resent Sam?” Frodo asked sadly.

“They wouldn’t if they took the trouble to know him as we do, but sadly not everyone is as kind-hearted or as good as you, Frodo. You see the good in people, without reference to background or breeding.”

“Sam’s had such a dreadful year. First to lose his Mama and then that accident; I just wanted to give him a celebration that he would never forget. I know he still has the Gaffer and his brothers and sisters but I remember what it was like that first winter after. . .after. . .” That old grief still had the power to rock Frodo to the depths of his being.

“I know, Frodo, and I know that Sam has appreciated your thoughtfulness over the last few months. Loyalty is a two way process, Frodo, and Sam’s loyalty, once given, will never be broken.”

“Thank you for persuading the Gaffer to let him come with us, I was sure he would insist that Sam go with them to Whitwell.”

Bilbo chuckled, “I told the Gaffer that I would introduce Sam to Old Noakes, the head gardener up at the Hall. Hamfast has his eye on some new varieties that Noakes has been working on and I suggested that Sam was just the person to charm a few samples from him.”

“Bilbo, you’re as devious as old Smaug!” Frodo chuckled, with more than a hint of hero-worship.

“I try, Lad. I try. No use having a reputation for being disreputable if you don’t use it!” Bilbo winked, handing the reins to Frodo and pulling out his pipe.

****

As the pony turned through the gate, youngsters poured out of the grand door of Brandy Hall to greet the party from Hobbiton. Bilbo was a great favourite of the Hall youngsters, who revelled in his easy nature and slightly notorious reputation, and Frodo was well loved, his loving and playful nature endearing him to young and old alike.

Merry and Pippin were at the front of the crowd who swarmed around the cart, their boisterous enthusiasm to be the centre of attention propelling them to bustle their way up onto the front board beside Frodo and Bilbo. In the back of the cart, Sam was pulled from sleep by the commotion and his unexpected appearance from the depths of the blankets caused some of the younger children to squeal.

“Is it always this noisy, Mr Frodo,” he asked sleepily, rubbing his hands over his sleep-heavy eyes.

“Sorry, Sam, I meant to wake you in good time,” Frodo chuckled, “this isn’t the easiest introduction to a Buckland Celebration, is it?”

“It’s as chaotic as the feast-time at a Hobbiton Summer Fayre.” Sam commented.

“Don’t worry, young Samwise, they are mostly harmless, “ Bilbo assured the young gardener.

“Yes, we’ll look after you, won’t we, Lads?” Frodo said to Merry and Pippin.

“Yes indeed, cousin. . .only the best for our Hobbiton guests,” Merry said, flashing a conspiratorial wink at Pippin.

Bilbo set about organising the unloading of the cart and the youngsters all trooped into the Hall out of the bitter afternoon chill.

“Frodo, Bilbo, it’s lovely to see you.” Esme, Mistress of the Hall greeted the Hobbits with a warm smile. “Come in, come in, you must be frozen stiff. And who’s this?” she asked, spying Sam who was trying his best to be inconspicuous.

“Forgive me. Mistress Esmerelda, may I present my good friend Sam Gamgee.” Frodo pulled Sam forward and the young Hobbit pulled off his hat and bowed.

“Samwise Gamgee at your service, Ma’am. Thank you for including me in your celebrations.” He presented the Lady with a basket of colourful winter pansies.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sam. Thank you, these are beautiful,” she said with a gracious smile.

Turning to the youngsters she directed Merry and Pippin to carry the luggage up to Bilbo’s room and urged Frodo and Sam to hurry to the kitchen to get warm. Bilbo noticed that the normally unflappable Esmerelda was indeed discomforted.

“Is there a problem, Esme?” Bilbo asked when they were alone.

“I wasn’t expecting young Sam. I haven’t a room set aside for him,” she explained.

“Didn’t you get Frodo’s letter?”

“No! What letter?”

“Frodo sent a letter with Merry when he called at BagEnd last month.”

“I received no letter, Bilbo.”

“I’m sure it’s just an oversight, my dear. Don’t fret; I feel sure that Frodo will not mind sharing a room with Sam. Young Sam will be happy with a pallet on the floor in Frodo’s room if there are no beds to spare.”

“If you’re sure, Bilbo. You go and get yourself some tea and I will have the maids sort out the arrangements. You and Frodo are in your usual rooms. Make yourselves at home.” Esme ushered Bilbo off towards the kitchen and then headed towards the sleeping chambers, calling to a maid as she went.

Bilbo found the two boys in the kitchen being fussed over by the Hall’s indomitable Cook. Their cloaks, scarves and gloves steamed on a rack near the range and the boys nursed large mugs of hot sweet tea in their  cold hands.

“I hope you’ve saved some tea for me, boys, I’m frozen to the core.” Bilbo draped his own cloak over the rack and pulled the cook’s rocking chair close to the fire and supped his own tea.

“You’ve a cheek, Mr Bilbo. You should know by now that no one’s allowed to sit in my chair!”

“Just keeping it warm for you, Hester,” Bilbo winked.

“Anyone else sitting in that chair gets their ear flicked with a tea-towel!” Frodo whispered to Sam.

“I’ll remember that, Mr Frodo,” Sam replied, rather intimidated by the stern looking cook.

“One of the privileges of age and notoriety,” Bilbo joked.

Hester  graced him with an indulgent frown as she placed another slice of chocolate cake on each of the lad’s plates. She leant over and took a gentle pinch of their ears’ and bent her head down between them. “You keep on my good side, Lads, and I will see you right!”

“Hester, you’re a gem.” Frodo dropped a kiss on her cheek causing the cook to blush and Bilbo to laugh.

“This lad takes after you, you rogue!” she said fondly. “I suppose you want more cake too?”

“Well, if you insist. Sam, this is Hester; she runs the kitchen and the staff with a rod of iron; even the Master knows who’s boss in this domain. If you need anything, lad, you just come and see Hester,” Bilbo explained.

****

“Merry, I thought you said HE wouldn’t be coming?” Pippin puffed, pulling one of Bilbo’s valises along the corridor.

“He shouldn’t be!” Merry huffed.

“But you said. . .”

“I know what I said, Pip. I thought I had it all sorted.”

“But you said if your Mum didn’a get the letter she wouldn’t write back to Frodo to confirm the invitation.”

“I know. . .”

“So did you give her the letter, after all?”

“No, and now I’m going to have to go and get it and tuck it under the blotter on her desk so she doesn’t figure out I kept it.”

“So what do we do now?”

“About what?”

“About Sam. How do we get Frodo to ourselves? He’s only here for a week and if he’s stuck playing nursemaid to the gardener, we won’t get to have any fun with him. What are we going to do, Merry? What are we going to Do?”

“We just have to persuade Sam that he would be happier in Hobbiton!” Merry smirked. “Come on, let’s get all these bags to Bilbo’s room and then we can work out a plan.”

“You’ll think of something, Merry,” Pippin said with complete confidence.

“Aye, and we don’t have much time.”

******

“Mr Frodo, is Mistress Hester always so generous with her helpings?” Sam asked, loosening his belt by one notch as they made their way up to their room.

“I think she’s got a soft spot for you, Sam. She’s always been good to me but poor Merry can hardly set foot past the door without getting his ear flicked. It drives him crazy!”

“Why’s she so hard on Mr Merry?” Sam asked, finding it hard to imagine that the Master’s only son wasn’t the darling of the Hall.

Frodo laughed. “Because trouble always follows Merry like a bad smell.  . .he’s always trying to outwit Hester and yet he rarely succeeds. She knows all the tricks and she gives him just enough rope to hang himself and then she reels him in, thicks his ear and sends him off to his Mamma with instructions to confess his transgressions.”

“And does he? . .confess, I mean”

“Oh, yes. He only once ignored that order. . . Hester swatted his backside and pulled him by his ear all the way through the Hall to his Mama’s parlour and stood by with her arms crossed while Esme administered a sound spanking.”

“Mr Frodo, you’ll keep me from trouble, won’t you?”

“Why, are you planning mischief, Sam?”

“Oh, no, Sir. I promised the Gaffer I’d be on my best behaviour but. . .but I never realised the Hall would be so big or so grand or so-so scary!”

“Now you listen here, Sam. You are here as my guest to enjoy the festivities. Yes, Brandy Hall is big but you will find it filled with all manner of Hobbits, from the grand to the humble and all sorts in-between. So I don’t want you to be scared or fearful of doing the wrong thing. . .just be yourself and you will be a credit to the Gaffer.”

“Hear, hear! Well said, Frodo!” Bilbo had caught the gist of the conversation and guided the two youngsters into Frodo’s room. “Sam, Esme has put you in here with Frodo. . .she thought you would be more comfortable sharing than being on your own. Is that alright with you both?” Frodo’s grin spoke of his reaction and Sam’s relieved expression reassured Bilbo that the confusion about Sam’s arrival had worked in his favour.

“Sam, make yourself at home.” Frodo pulled his own bag onto his bed and began unpacking. “You’ll find the fire is always alight and if you need more logs just ask one of the staff. The Hall can be a bit hectic, so if you need a bit of peace and quiet you’ll find books here on the shelf and the tea kettle on the hearth,” Frodo assured his friend.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude, Mr Frodo.”

“Sam, you won’t be intruding. . .this is your room while we are staying here and this is your holiday and I want you to relax and enjoy yourself.” Frodo reassured him. “Now, let me show you the delights of the bathing chambers and we can get ready for dinner.”

******

“Frodo!”

“Merry, Pippin. I was wondering where you two were hiding yourselves,” Frodo laughed, hugging his cousins.

“Mr, Merry, Mr Pippin.” Sam’s greeting was subdued but respectful.

“Evening, Sam,” Pippin said. Merry just dipped his head towards Sam.

“Just an informal supper tonight, Frodo,” Merry explained as they made their way into the large festive hall. “Sam, help yourself to supper, you’ll find drinks and punch for the youngsters over there on the sideboard.” Merry attempted to guide Frodo away from the young gardener but Frodo snagged the sleeve of Sam’s shirt and pulled him after them.

“Don’t be shy, Sam. Come and meet the rest of the family.”

“Frodo, are you coming to the races tomorrow?” Pippin asked, nearly jumping up and down with anticipation.

“Of course, Pip. I have the honour of the Baggins’ to uphold. I’ve won the apple chase for the last three years.”

“Merry reckons he will beat you this year!” Pippin puffed, earning himself a cuff from his cousin.

“He said that last year and the year before, Pip. . . I don’t reckon he’s any nearer to achieving his goal this time,” Frodo said, with a wink to Sam.

“What about you, Samwise,” Merry asked, “are you entering?”

“Oh, no, Mr Merry. My leg isn’t healed well enough yet; I’m afraid I’m a bit out of shape. I’ll come and watch you all though. I wouldn’t want to miss Mr Frodo’s victory!” They all laughed though Merry’s mirth was forced and insincere.

When the evening turned to music and dancing Sam found himself a quiet corner where he could watch the proceedings and rest his leg. He soon had a following of the younger children vying to attend him, keeping him supplied with food and snacks in exchange for Yule tales and nonsense rhymes. Merry and Pippin made it their task to keep Frodo occupied.

“Stop fretting about Sam, Frodo,” Merry chided, noticing that Frodo’s attention kept focussing back to the young gardener. “Sam is quite happy and he doesn’t need a nursemaid.”

“I promised Bilbo I’d look out for him: Brandy Hall can be a bit intimidating to a newcomer.”

“He’s not a tot, Frodo, and he can look out for himself. Now come on, I can see that Pearl is just itching for a dance.”

*****

“Mr Frodo, I don’t mean to be a bother but would you mind if I didn’t come to the races today.” Sam and Frodo were sitting down to second breakfast, having slept in late.

“No, Sam, of course not. I told you that you are to do as you please while you are here. You’re not feeling unwell, are you?”

“Oh, no, Sir. But my leg’s a bit sore and I don’t reckon standing about in the cold all morning is such a good idea,” Sam explained. “Besides, Mr Bilbo promised to introduce me to the Master’s Gardener.”

“Of course, Sam. I’m sure Old Noakes will be happy to see you, he loves talking about his gardens and his plants with another expert.”

“I’m not an expert, Mr Frodo, but the Gaffer always likes to hear about new plants and varieties.”

“Well, don’t spend too long out in the cold and remember what I said about making yourself at home.”

“You just make sure you give Mr Merry a run for his money, Mr Frodo.”

It was late afternoon when the crowd of noisy but jubilant youngsters piled into the kitchen, their cheeks and noses rosy from the cold. Hester was ready with steaming mugs of  tea and piles of hot muffins.

“So who won the apple chase?” Hester asked, noting Frodo’s happy countenance and Merry’s subdued demeanour.

“Frodo,” the youngsters chorused.

“Frodo, of course!”

“He’s the champion again. . .you should have seen him go, Hester,” Pippin enthused, oblivious to Merry’s  pout.

“I’m sorry I missed it, Frodo. I haven’t  seen you with such a bloom in your cheeks for many a year,” Hester said, patting his face.

“Well, Merry was close on my heels. . .I thought I might lose my crown this year,” Frodo said, hugging Merry and ruffling Pippin’s hair. “Have you seen Sam, Hester?” he asked.

“Aye, he was here earlier but he’s gone up to have a rest, I think his leg was paining him.” Hester drew Frodo away from the crowd. “I didn’t like to ask him but how did he come by his hurt?”

“He had an accident while working in the garden, just after Bilbo’s and my birthday. He was digging over the vegetable patch when the shaft of the spade broke. . .the jagged edge of the shaft gouged a deep wound in his shin. He is only just now getting about and the Gaffer has had to manage the garden without him,” Frodo explained.

“Poor lad, I can’t see idleness sitting well with him.”

“No, he’s been fretting about letting the Gaffer and Bilbo down and not pulling his weight at home. It’s been really hard on him coming so soon after losing his mamma. But he never complains and Bilbo and I have been keeping him busy with book learning. . .he loves Bilbo’s tales,” Frodo explained with a gentle sigh.

“You’re good for him, Master Frodo,” Hester remarked.

“Too good,” Merry whispered to Pippin, nastily.

“Merry, you don’t think Sam’s leg. . .?”

“No, Pippin. . .we weren’t there. . .were we?”

“No. . .no but. . .did. . Merry, did you. . .?”

“Don’t even think it, Pippin. It’s just a coincidence.”

“But you said. . .”

“I know what I said, just hush, Pip, before Frodo starts getting suspicious,” Merry said, pulling his younger cousin out of the kitchen.

“But, Merry. . .”

“I said hush, Pip. Now, let’s go and bag the bath while the water’s still hot. Don’t forget we have plans for tonight.”

*******

The festivities of the evening commenced with a formal dinner, lavish by even the Hall’s standards. Frodo elected to give up his place beside Bilbo on the top table to join Sam and the rest of the youngsters on a table set aside especially for them. Sam’s eyes popped at the size and extent of the feast and for a while he seemed too dazed to eat but then Hobbit instinct took over and he joined in with enthusiasm. Merry introduced Sam to the delights of Hester’s special fruit punch and made it his goal to ensure that the young gardener’s goblet was never empty: every now and again adding just a dribble of clear liquor to the innocuous fruit drink.

When the dinner was finished and the tables and trestles  pushed to the side, the room was given over to youngsters for dancing and games; the older guests retiring to the library for less energetic entertainments.

The party was noisy and exuberant, the Hobbits danced until they were exhausted and then they paused for quieter games until they regained their energy for more dancing. Frodo was in the thick of the jollity  and he was pleased to see that Sam was joining in, laughing and giddy as Frodo had hardly ever seem him.

“How’s your leg holding up, Sam?” Frodo asked when he caught up with him near the refreshment table,  slightly concerned that Sam might be overdoing it.

“Here Sam, you need a top-up,” Merry interupted, handing Sam a refilled goblet.

“Thank you kindly, Mr Merry, you’re a real gent. ‘Am fine, Mr Frodo. . .Leg’s fine too!” Frodo shot Merry a puzzled glance but Merry just beamed back at him.

“Sam, I’m a bit hot. I think I need a breath of fresh air, would you care to join me?”

“Anythin’ for you, Mr Frodo, Sir, lead the way,” Sam giggled and then hiccupped. He staggered and caught hold of Frodo’s jacket. “Upsy-daisy!”

Frodo looked up in time to see Merry smirk at Pippin. “Come on, Sam Lad, quickest way out’s through the kitchen.”

Once out of the main Hall Sam began to feel the untoward effects of Merry’s prank. He clutched desperately at his companions arm. “Mr Frodo, I don’t feel so good!”  he gasped.

“I can see that, Sam. Can you make it to the garden?”

“Noooo.”

Frodo guided Sam into the darkened scullery just in time, reaching for a washing bowl just as Sam lost control of his stomach.

“It’s alright, Sam. ‘Better out than in’, as Bilbo would say.”

“Oh, Mr Frodo!”

“Don’t fret, Sam. All done now?” Sam nodded miserably.

“Hester is that you?” Frodo called, hearing movement from the main kitchen.

“Mr Frodo, what are you up too?” Hester stood in the doorway with a lantern in her hand.

“I’m afraid Sam’s been taken ill, Hester.”

“Taken ill! And just how ill, is he?” She took one look at Sam’s miserable countenance and pulled him into a hug. “Come on, Lad, you’re not the first and I dare say you won’t be the last. Come and sit at the table and I will brew you some soothing tea.” Within minutes they were sat at the table with a steaming mug of tea each, though Sam had his head burrowed so deeply in his folded arms that he couldn’t drink it.

“Come on, Sam lad, the tea won’t do you no good left in the cup.” Hester’s no-nonsense tone seemed to puncture through Sam’s haze of misery. He lifted his head and supped the hot, sweet liquid.

“What have you been drinking, Lad?” Hester asked.

“Fruit punch. . .just fruit punch.”

“Well I reckon someone’s been up to old tricks. Who gave you the drinks, Sam?”

“Not really sure, my glass just seemed to keep being filled. . .Mr Merry gave me a drink at dinner but I lost track after. . .”

“Could I have a word, Mr Frodo,” Hester drew Frodo away from the table. “Are you going to sort this out?. . .you know who’s responsible, don’t you?”

“I fear I do, Hester, though I don’t see why Merry would want to play such a mean trick on Sam.”

“Because he’s got a wriggling worm of jealousy burrowing under his skin, that’s why!”

“Why would Merry be jealous of Sam? Merry wants for nothing!”

“Nothing but your attention, Lad. He misses you and he wants you to himself,” she said gently.

“Well, jealous or no, I won’t stand for him treating Sam or anyone else so shabbily. Hester, would you stay with Sam while I go and fetch Bilbo and we will get Sam put safely to bed.”

Frodo woke to the sound of workers moving in the courtyard beneath his window. Sam’s pallet was empty, his blankets straightened and his nightshirt folded on his pillow. Once washed and dressed, Frodo went to look for his friend, his search taking him first to the kitchen. Hester stopped him as he stepped through the door and put her fingers to her lips. The staff were working almost silently.

“He was down before dawn,” she explained, pointing towards the range. Sam was in the rocking chair, his feet propped up on a stool. He had a thick towel draped over his knees and on his lap sat a bowl of half shelled peas. He was snoring softly. Even asleep Frodo could see that his eyes were blotchy and swollen.

“How is he?”

“Sore and sorry for himself. He seems to think he is in disgrace. . .worrying about what Bilbo and the Gaffer will say.”

“The only ones Bilbo is mad at are the ones that did this to him and Bilbo will see that the Gaffer knows the truth of it.”

“And what about those responsible?”

“I am going to deal with them now. Have they appeared yet for breakfast?”

“They are in the dining room now. Best you catch them before they disappear.”

“Is Sam alright here with you, Hester?”

“Don’t you worry about Sam, I’ll look after him and keep him occupied until you are done. . .and Frodo!”

“Yes, Hester?”

“Give them one from me!”

*******

“Where are we going, Merry?”

“To the library.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I had a message that Frodo was there and he wants our company. Hurry up, Pippin, and perhaps we can persuade him to come out for a walk with us, seeing as it’s too frozen to take the ponies out.”

“Just you, me and Frodo?”

“Yes, if we’re lucky.”

“Hey, Frodo, wasn’t it a great party? Dadda let me stay up ‘till after midnight,” Pippin gushed as he bounced into the library.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, Pippin. What about you, Merry, did you have a good time?” There was something about the tone of the question that set alarm bells ringing for Merry. Frodo was observing them both with an expression normally only seen on an irate parent.

“Fine thank you, cousin. What about you?”

“The feast was excellent but unfortunately I had to leave the festivities early!”

“Why, I thought you enjoyed dancing, Frodo.” Pippin questioned.

“I had to look after Sam,” Frodo explained.

Merry rolled his eyes and cast a quick wink at Pippin; neither gesture unnoticed by Frodo. “Isn’t Sam old enough to look after himself?”

“Yes, usually, but he was taken ill. Hester is looking after him this morning but she fears he is brewing a nasty fever. We might have to quarantine the Hall in case it is contagious.”

“But, Frodo, it’s just. . .”

“Hush, Pip.” Merry quelled his younger companion and turned back to Frodo. “What are his symptoms?”

“Sickness, dizziness, disorientation, really nasty headache. . .if it wasn’t for the fact that I know Sam doesn’t drink , I would think it was an excess of spirits but Sam would never go against the Gaffer’s wishes in such a manner. . .he would be too afraid of the  consequences. It is such a shame; we will have to cancel the remainder of the festivities. Hester is organising the staff to cope with an epidemic,” Frodo explained, his tone sombre. Frodo observed Merry carefully, aware that beside him Pippin was fidgeting from foot to foot in agitation.

“You know, don’t you, Frodo?” Merry said eventually, when he could bare the scrutiny no longer.

“Know what, Merry?”

“That I messed with Sam’s drink.”

“Not just you, Merry. It was me too, Frodo!”

“I thought it might be. What I don’t understand is why you would play such a mean trick on Sam?”

“I just wanted him to enjoy himself,” Merry blustered, “I just wanted him to enjoy himself. . .he’s always so proper and boring…”

“Do you think he was enjoying himself when he was being Ill? Or when he woke up this morning with a bad head? Do you think he will enjoy himself when he has to face his father or Bilbo and explain to them how he made a fool of himself in front of everyone at the celebrations?” Frodo thundered, causing his two cousins to step back; Pippin shielding himself behind his older cousin. “What did you give him?” Frodo demanded.

“Apple Brandy. . .”

“But that stuff is lethal! Merry, where did you get it?”

“I borrowed the key from Dadda’s study and got the spirit from the wine cellar.”

“I filled the flask while Merry kept watch,” Pippin explained.

“Hush, Pippin!”

“So you were both involved in the planning and accomplishment of this prank?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, Frodo.”

“So you can both expect to be punished, can’t you?” Both unhappy miscreants nodded miserably. “While I know you were both involved, I hold you in greater responsibility, Merry. You are older and know that this sort of behaviour is unacceptable. Sam could have been harmed by your actions.”

“We didn’t mean any harm,” Pippin whispered, throwing himself into Frodo’s arms, tears spilling down his cheeks.

“I know you didn’t, Pippin. But this went beyond a normal prank. Alcohol can be a poison and Sam took it, unknowing. I promised the Gaffer and Bilbo that I would look after Sam and instead he could have come to harm.”

Frodo continued to hold Pippin but he directed his next words to Merry. “Don’t you think Sam and his family have had enough grief and hardship these last few months? I wanted to give him a proper break, a holiday he would remember for all the right reasons and your thoughtless actions have threatened that. And I have to tell you now, Merry, that when we are finished here I will expect you both to go and make things right with Sam, because if he decides he no longer wants to stay here, then Bilbo and I will take him back to Hobbiton this very afternoon and we will spend the rest of the festivities at Bag End making sure he does enjoy himself!”

“Bu-but that’s not fair. We won’t get to see you,” Pippin howled. Merry looked devastated.

“But you could persuade him to stay, Frodo,” Merry begged.

“I am not the one who needs to do that though, am I, Merry?”

“No, Sir.”

“Good, then we understand each other. Now, Pippin lets get this over with.”

“You mean you’re going to spank us?”

“Yes. Bilbo offered but this is my responsibility.” Frodo pulled Pippin into place across his lap, taking a firm grip of the wriggling youngster. “Merry , while I am dealing with Pippin I want you to consider your responsibility in his predicament.,

Frodo lost no time in turning Pippin over his knee and  began spanking with surprising efficiency. Merry cringed to hear his little cousin’s gasps turn to cries and then to wails.

Merry could bear it no longer. “Frodo, no more. Please stop,” he begged. ”It was all my idea, Pippin would never have done it without my urging. Please, Frodo! Please Stop!” Merry sobbed. “We didn’t mean any harm with the drink and Pippin had nothing to do with the spade. . .!” Merry suddenly realised what he had just revealed and he buried his face in his hands. Frodo finished spanking Pippin and drew the lad up into his arms to comfort him.

“Don’t say another word, Merry,” Frodo growled through gritted teeth, turning his attention back to the  weeping cousin in his arms. He soothed and rocked the youngster until he settled and then set him on his feet.

Merry was distraught “Frodo. . . please. . .I’m sorry.”

“Merry, I said be silent! Pippin, did you have anything to do with Sam’s accident?” Pippin glanced at Merry and answered with a shake of his head.

“Very well, Pippin. Would you please go and find Bilbo and Uncle Saradoc and tell them that they are needed here,” Frodo instructed, his manner as grim as either cousin had ever seen.

“Don’t tell Dadda, Frodo, please,” Merry begged. But Frodo ignored his plea and ushered Pippin from the room. When they were alone Frodo moved back to Merry and took him in a hug.

“I’m sorry, Merry, but this is too serious a matter for me to deal with. Sam was badly injured and has been unable to work for a whole season. The Gaffer relies on Sam’s wages to keep the family fed and warm. It took Bilbo a lot of persuading for the Gaffer to accept that Bilbo should keep paying Sam even though he wasn’t working. The Gaffer’s a proud hobbit who won’t accept charity even when his family are in need,” Frodo explained.

When Bilbo and the Master arrived, Frodo explained briefly what had happened and then stepped back to allow Merry’s father to take charge. Within a few minutes the whole, sorry story emerged.

“So, you were responsible for young Sam’s accident and for his indisposition last evening? Is there anything else you think we should be aware of?” Saradoc’s stern manner persuaded Merry that trying to evade his responsibilities was not a good idea.

“The letter,” he whispered miserably.

“Ah, yes! Your mother wondered where that had miraculously appeared from. Well, what have you to say for yourself, young hobbit?”

“I’m so-sorry. . .so sorry, Dadda I never meant any harm. I-I just wanted. . .I just wanted Frodo to come on his own, to spend time with me. . .I never get to see him anymore. . .” Merry sobbed.

“So this is all down to jealousy!” Merry nodded, his misery complete.

“Bilbo, did you know any of this?” Saradoc asked.

“The Gaffer and I knew the spade had been tampered with but, as the accident didn’t happen until several days after the lads’ departure, we had no way of knowing who was responsible; there were lots of people around during the birthday celebrations, it could have been anyone.”

“You never told me it was not just an accident, Bilbo,” Frodo said. “Does Sam know?”

“No, Lad, as far as Sam is concerned it was an accident and I think it is better if it stays that way,” Bilbo explained.

“Merry!”

“Yes, Dadda.”

“Go to my study and get the strap,” his father ordered. Merry blanched but knew better than to argue. The strap was actually a paddle made of  flexible leather, designed to inflict a fearsome sting without causing damage. Merry had only felt it’s sting once before and he realised that his father intended to impart a memorable lesson.

“Bilbo, do you want the honours?” Saradoc asked when Merry returned and handed over the feared implement.

“No. I fear I am too angry and disappointed to deal with the lad fairly. Best you see to it, Sara.”

Merry knew it would be awful; he could barely move, his legs were trapped and his arms restrained by his father’s hand. He yelled from the first fall of the paddle on his bottom. Struggling and begging were useless, his father kept up a steady and relentless rhythm until every inch of his bottom and the tops of his thighs were radiating fire. Only when Merry collapsed over his father’s knee in limp, distraught surrender did the spanking end. Across the room Frodo stood with his face buried against Bilbo’s chest, unable to watch the proceedings. They were about to leave to give father and son some privacy but Saradoc indicated that they should remain. Saradoc soothed and calmed his distraught son; hands that had punished now offering comfort and reassurance.

Once Merry had recovered slightly he was set back on his feet and allowed to adjust his clothing, however, his father did not allow him to  move away, keeping him close, his hands resting on still hitching shoulders.

“Son, you have been punished for your misbehaviours and you are forgiven. You do, however, have apologies to make.”

“Yes, Sir, I will,” Merry sniffed.

“You are a good lad, and we all love you and I know that you are capable of great things; you are bright and intelligent but I fear you have too much time on your hands. I have been remiss, I should not have allowed you so much leeway and there are areas of your education that have been sadly neglected.”

“Does that mean I have to go back to the school room, Dadda?”

“No, Son, we both know that you have outgrown the classroom but that doesn’t mean that you have finished learning. I had thought to leave this plan for a year or two but it is obvious to me that you need to learn the value of hard work and to understand the importance of all of the people who contribute to the smooth and efficient running of the Hall and it’s lands.”

Saradoc turned to the other occupants of the room. “Bilbo, how long was Sam incapacitated by his injury?”

“A whole season; he was injured just after our birthdays’ and he is only now fit enough to return to work.”

“Very well. Merry, after the festivities are over you will be apprenticed to Noakes to work in the gardens for a season; you will work the same hours and receive the same wages as the other lads and you will be answerable to Noakes; you can expect no favours or special attention. Is that clear?”

“Yes Sir.”

“When your time with Noakes is finished you will spend a season as a kitchen hand, followed by a season in the stables and stockyard and finally a season working on the land.”

“But, Dadda, that’s a whole year! You are punishing me for a whole year for a prank! That’s not fair!”

Trying hard to keep his patience, Saradoc addressed his son. “Your punishment for your ‘pranks’ was the spanking, Merry. Working around the Hall is part of your continuing education. You have to learn to value the people around you, the people you will one day be responsible for. You have to earn their respect, Merry, and you cannot do that if you take their labour and their loyalty for granted. I will not allow my son to be a lazy, good-for-nothing lay-about; you will work hard and you will do so with good grace. If I get reports of sulking or insolence from those in charge of your labours you will be one very sorry little hobbit. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir. I understand.”

“Very well, you will make your apologies and we will endeavour to enjoy the rest of the festivities without further mishap.” Saradoc gave his son a final hug and he and Bilbo took their leave, leaving the two lads alone. Merry’s misery was palpable and he hardly dare raise his gaze to meet Frodo’s eyes.

“Come here, Merry Lad.” Frodo opened his arms in invitation and hugged his cousin as his tears began to fall anew. Frodo just held him and soothed him until he finally calmed.

“I-I’m so sorry, Frodo. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course I forgive you, Merry. It is all done now, all over.”

“But. . .a whole year. . .I’m to be punished for a whole year.” Merry wailed.

“No, Merry, you heard what your Dadda said. You must not look on this year as a punishment but as an opportunity to learn.”

“But I won’t get to see you for a whole year.”

“I will talk to Uncle Sara. I will see if I can persuade him to give you a few days off between each of your allocations. But you will have to work hard to earn it: Sam works six days a week all year with only quarter-days as holidays; if he wants extra time off for leisure he has to get up extra early and finish his jobs first,” Frodo explained.

“But when we were at Bag End for your birthdays’, Sam was always around,” Merry complained petulantly.

“Sam had the afternoons free because by the time you dragged yourself out of bed for second breakfast, Sam had already done three-quarters of a day’s work; he was up before dawn while you slept in till after eleven,” Frodo chided. Merry could only nod in sheepish acknowledgement.

“If Dadda does give me time off, will you come here so that we can have a few days together, just the two of us,” Merry asked.

“Of course, I would like that; perhaps we could go camping for a day or two,” Frodo suggested.

“You’d still want to do that with me after what I’ve done?”

“Oh, Merry, of course I would. You are still my little Merry-Lad, nothing will ever change that.” Merry was weeping again, his face buried against Frodo’s shoulder. “Come on now, Merry, let’s go and find Pippin and Sam. When you have made your apologies, how about we take that walk I heard you and Pip planning?”

“You mean all of us? Will Sam want to come?”

“I’m sure that you are the one to persuade him, Merry. . .and I suspect he could do with a little fresh air to ‘blow away the cobwebs’, as Bilbo would say.”

“Is he really bad, Frodo?”

“He has a fair hangover, Merry, but Hester has dosed him well and has no doubt fed him lots of treats. . .I think he’ll survive.”

“He would have to be hiding down in the dragon’s den, wouldn’t he?” Merry muttered, not wanting to face Hester.

“Come on, Merry, be brave. It’s time you  stopped plaguing Hester and got her on side. . .after all you are going to be working for her soon. It’s time to break out your famed Brandybuck charm.” Frodo chuckled at his cousin’s woebegone expression.

“I’m doomed, Cousin. She’ll chop me up and bake me in one of her famous game pies!” Merry pouted, though with just a hint of his old spark.

“Jugged Merry Pie! It will be the new Yule favourite,” Frodo joked, ushering Merry down towards the kitchen.

“Very funny, Cousin. Very funny!”

The  End.

Shireling Dec 2005