Prologue

Far above the Ephel Duath in the West the night-sky was still dim and pale. There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach. -- Return of the King, by J.R.R. Tolkien, “The Land of the Shadow”

After the Fairbairns had properly greeted Samwise, taking from him his soaking cloak, showing him to the best chair in the parlour, propping his feet before the fire and giving him a cup of tea fixed to his taste (after each grandchild had taken a turn bestowing a hug and a kiss, of course), the whole family settled down about him, the littlest ones on the hearthrug, the biggest ones scattered about on chairs, with little Rose on the footstool at her grandfather’s feet, playing with the snowy curls atop his toes.

‘Minds me of how you used to read to us after supper, Dad,’ Elanor said, picking up some small breeches with a tear in one knee and applying her needle to their repair. ‘Do you remember how we’d gather round, all who were old enough to sit up, and hear the tales from the Red Book?’

’Indeed I do, Ellie,’ Sam replied, a twinkle in his eye. ‘Would you like to hear more tales from the Red Book?’

’More tales?’ she said, puzzled. ‘I thought we’d heard all there was to hear... have you written more, Dad, on those blank pages Mr Frodo left for you?’

’No, Ellie,’ Sam said, ‘at least, not any more than you’ve already seen. But Ruby was doing some clearing out in the study the other day and ran acrost some papers fallen behind some books. You know how Mr Frodo would just lay a sheaf of papers on top of the books on a shelf when unexpected visitors came...’

’Yes,’ Ellie laughed. ‘You told me how it used to drive Rose-mum to distraction, when he’d lose a page and ask her if she’d moved it when she was dusting!’ Sobering, she wiped away a tear at the thought of her mother, gone now, though it hardly seemed possible.

’Well, evidently he wrote these in the Spring before he went away, just before he had his bad spell in March, and so when he misplaced them, he didn’t even miss them, later,’ Sam said soberly. ‘At least, that is what I think happened.’

’What papers, Dad?’ Fastred said, drawing on his pipe.

’Elfstan,’ Sam said to the tallest lad, two years short of coming of age!—how quickly they grew up, he thought. ‘You go get that package you took off the pack-pony when you unloaded him for me, and bring it here.’

’Yes, Grandad,’ Elfstan answered, disappearing out of the parlour, going to the guest room and finding the wanted item in the baggage laid neatly in the corner. It was large and bulky, wrapped in oiled cloth and tied about with twine. Elanor obligingly supplied her scissors, and soon the curious children were helping Samwise unwrap the treasure from its layers of oiled cloth and thin paper wrappings.

’The Red Book!’ Elanor breathed when the object came to light. ‘Dad, you brought it from Bag End? You risked it, in this weather, taking it here and back again?’

’Not back again, Ellie,’ Sam said calmly. ‘It’s here to stay. I want you to keep it for me.’

Ellie sat in shock, while Fastred gave his father-in-love a sharp glance, nodding at what he read in the creases of the old face.

’I suppose it is a boon for the grandchildren to hear the stories,’ Ellie said. ‘But the book is so big, you’ll have to make it an awfully long visit, Dad!’

’I’ll stay as long as need be,’ Sam said with a smile. ‘As long as need be,’ he repeated softly, caressing the fine leather of the binding, then he opened the book up. ‘Come here, Ellie, look at this!’

Putting down her mending, she got up from her chair and came over. Carefully glued in after the last pages written by Mr Frodo, more pages had been added. She saw, written in Frodo’s firm flowing script:

The Greening of the Shire
What Happened after the Scouring of the Shire
An Account of the Shire-folk after the War of the Ring
The Healing of the Shire

...all crossed out, followed by what Mr Frodo might have intended for the title after all:

A Small and Passing Thing

’How curious!’ Elanor exclaimed. ‘It sounds... familiar somehow, as if I’d heard it before.’

’What’s it about, Grandad?’ Ten-year-old Frodo-lad piped up. ‘Can we hear the story?’

A chorus of eager agreement met this statement, and Elanor pretended to sigh in exasperation. She put her hands on her hips and said, ‘You know I’ll never get them off to bed, now, unless you read the story...’

’Well, then,’ Sam said with equanimity. ‘I suppose we had better get started...’

Note to readers: As this story overlaps "The Rebel", there will be some material in common in early chapters.

Chapter 1. Every Ruffian's Worst Nightmare

The day that the ruffians hauled Lobelia Sackville-Baggins off to the Lockholes is a day that will live long in infamy. In disreputable public houses, deep in the shadowy corners where Men speak in whispers and bags of coins change hands under the table, her name is whispered even now, and Men shudder and fall silent.

You would not think a dozen ruffians would be needed to escort an elderly—nay, ancient!—hobbit matron from Hobbiton to Michel Delving in fine autumnal weather, but in truth, the dozen were nearly not enough.

‘Lo, she’s a tough old bird,’ one ruffian whispered to another as they traipsed along in the dust, Mistress Lobelia walking briskly, swinging her umbrella, muttering threats and imprecations.

She might be old, but she was not deaf. Indeed, she possessed hearing of unusual sharpness and clarity.

‘Young MAN!’ she screeched, and the ruffians fought the impulse to cover their ears. ‘Young MAN! Show more RESPECT towards your ELDERS!’ She went back to muttering, saying indignantly, ‘Old bird, indeed! HAH!’

They stopped often along the way, to allow Mistress Lobelia to take refreshment, or take care of, er, necessities. If not for the sheepish Men following her with whips and clubs dangling from their hands, the old hobbit might have been on a rest-day stroll. When they stopped overnight at the Shirriff’s house in Waymeet, the chief Shirriff himself gave up his bed, with more bowing and scraping than he ever showed the ruffians. However, no ruffian dared comment on the fact.

At the Lockholes, the scribe taking the names of arriving prisoners looked up. ‘What’s this?’ he asked boredly.

‘SHOW some RESPECT, young MAN!’ Lobelia said in piercing tones.

‘New prisoner,’ the head of the ruffian escort replied wearily. He was thankful to be turning his charge over to others, to go back to the mundane tasks of bullying the hobbits of Bywater and Hobbiton.

‘Name?’ the scribe said, only to have the very sharp end of an irate hobbit matron’s umbrella poked painfully into his chest.

‘Were you addressing ME, you SCOUNDREL?’ Lobelia shrieked. ‘Is THAT any way to address your BETTERS?’

‘No ma’am,’ the scribe said hastily. ‘If you please, ma’am,’ he said, fearing she might spit him on her improvised sword, ‘What is your name?’

‘If you had any brains at all, which I rather doubt,’ she said scathingly, withdrawing her umbrella and straightening to her full diminutive height, ‘you’d know who I am.’

‘For the record, ma’am,’ he said, but did not question further, simply began to write on the next numbered line, “Lobelia Sackville-Ba...“

‘Abominable!’ she frothed. ‘Your handwriting is absolutely appalling! Wherever did you learn your craft? You have the temerity to call yourself a scribe?’

So quickly that he didn’t quite know how it all happened, she snatched the quill from him, dipped it in the ink, and wrote with a flourish, in beautiful copperplate, “Lobelia Sackville-Baggins”. Her large, handsome script took up four of the numbered lines, but looking into the stern face, the scribe decided it was not worth mentioning as she threw down the quill and stared him down.

‘You’re Number ninety-seven,’ he said in a placating voice, but it wasn’t placating enough. The umbrella came up menacingly.

‘WHAT did you say?’ she hissed.

‘That—that’s what they’ll call you, here, Number ninety-seven,’ he stammered. ‘That’s your number.’

‘They will call me “Mistress Sackville-Baggins”, or “Mistress Lobelia”, or simply “Mistress” if they know what’s good for them,’ she snapped.

‘Yes’m,’ the scribe said meekly, eyes on the umbrella. He wondered why none of the other ruffians had tried to take the umbrella away from the old biddy, and why they were allowing her to menace him with the sharp tip.

‘Very well!’ Mistress Lobelia said imperiously, turning to the chief of the ruffians here in the Lockholes. She knew he was the chief because of the armband he wore, a convenience adopted by the ruffians to let the halflings know which ruffians were more in charge than others. ‘Let us proceed! It is nearly teatime, and I would like to refresh myself before taking tea!’

‘Yes, Mistress,’ the chief said, eyeing the umbrella. ‘Right this way.’ He gestured towards the open doorway. As they proceeded, he made a grab for the umbrella, but Lobelia was faster. Whack! the umbrella struck sharply against a tender part of the ruffian’s anatomy, and he yelped in pain.

‘Let that be a lesson to you,’ Lobelia said sternly. When the ruffian was stupid enough to try the trick again, there was another whack with its accompanying yelp, and a scolding in piercing tones in the bargain.

Desperate, the ruffian grabbed at Lobelia’s arm, intending to wrestle the dratted weapon from the irate elderly hobbit, and she screamed at the top of her lungs. ‘Take your hands off me, you thieving scoundrel!’ He dropped her arm to place his hands over his ears, moving on instinct alone, and the umbrella whacked him again. He yelped.

‘You dare to try to touch me again, I’ll serve you a double portion!’ Lobelia shrieked. They had turned the corner and were walking down the main corridor, past the first few empty cells. Lobelia peered into each one, dissatisfied at having nothing to comment on. Coming to the first occupied cell, she froze. ‘What’s this?’ she said, her voice shaking in outrage. ‘Hobbits sleeping on the floor, like dogs?’

A hobbit was curled on the stone floor without even a blanket for warmth. Lobelia had a flash of memory—thus had Otho’s hunting dogs curled before the hearth, when he was still courting her, before the wedding. After the wedding, she’d banished the dogs to the stables where they belonged.

‘You may have your own room, all to yourself, Mistress, and we’ll even bring a bed in for you,’ the ruffian said in an appeasing tone.

‘A bed!’ Lobelia shrieked. The guard jumped in spite of himself, but the hobbit in the cell continued to lie motionless, which was worrisome. ‘A bed! Why not a bed for that lad in there?’

‘He’s rebel scum, Mistress,’ the ruffian said apologetically. ‘He’s being punished for being a law-breaker. Now come along, we’ll see what we can do to make you comfortable—‘ Whack! The ruffian yelped again, wondering if perhaps there might be a better job somewhere else in this land. The here-to-fore easy life of a guard at the Lockholes was paling on him.

‘Unhand me, you... you... what was that you called him?’ Lobelia said in tones that could have shattered glass.

‘Scum, Mistress?’ the ruffian said, trying not to sound thoroughly cowed.

‘You SCUM!’ Lobelia shrieked. ‘A satisfying word,’ she muttered to herself, then raised her voice again, like fingernails against a smooth surface, setting teeth on edge. ‘If you touch me again, so help me, I’ll put your eyes out with the point of this umbrella. I had it made specially sharp to drive away stray dogs, I’ll have you know...’

She planted the sharp tip of the umbrella in the ruffian’s midsection and pushed him back, then hobbled into the small, dark, bleak cell. She bent over the still figure, reaching out a clawlike hand to touch the skin, checking for life. The flesh was not cold with the chill of death, as she’d feared, but rather hot to the touch; he was fevered.

She creaked to the ground and took his head into her lap. This might have been her own precious Lotho, a few years back. This lad was a bit younger, perhaps a score of years. He showed no sign of recognising her presence, lying with eyes half open, unblinking, unmoving. If not for the slight rise and fall of the chest, she’d have thought him gone, the fever heat only a residue of life. ‘O lad,’ she crooned. ‘What have those despicable ruffians done to you, I’d like to know?’

She felt the feverish hobbit’s body jerk as she raised her voice again. ‘I want WATER, do you hear me, you imbecile, a CLEAN bucketful of CLEAN fresh water, mind, and I want it NOW. And CLEAN cloths, if you know what such a thing is, and a loaf of BREAD.’ Immediately her tone changed to softness and gentleness as she stroked the burning forehead. ‘It’s all right, lad, you’re safe now.’

‘Will there be anything else, Mistress?’ the ruffian quavered.

‘That’ll do for starters,’ she snapped. ‘Some warm milk would not go amiss.’

‘Warm... milk,’ the ruffian stuttered.

‘And a proper cup of tea. A few eggs, lightly scrambled, and…’ Looking up to see the ruffian creeping away, her voice rose again to a shriek. ‘Young MAN! YOUNG MAN! I haven’t FINISHED with you YET!’ Her hand never paused in its caresses while her voice subsided into a grumble.

She surveyed the hobbit she cradled more carefully. He was dirty—filthy, rather, and he stank, but she shouldn’t expect lilies and rosewater, now, should she? She sniffed at her own fastidiousness. Young Lobelia hadn’t been one afraid to get her hands dirty, though she hadn’t had to do so in quite awhile. He needed a bath, she thought, but he wasn’t going to get one, not in this chilly place. Ideally, there should be a roaring fire on the hearth, a large copper tub standing nearby, filled with steaming water, soft towels at the ready, pleasantly-scented soap... She sniffed again. She’d make do.

Boots sounded in the corridor and she took a deep breath, ready to launch into another tirade, but the ruffian who stopped in the doorway, staring at the sight of the old crony cradling the young rebel, was not the one she’d sent to fetch and carry for her. He had a bucket, indeed, but when he set it down she saw a swirl of oil on top of the liquid, and he carried a whip in his other hand.

‘What’s this?’ he asked, his eyebrows going up.

‘I might ask you the same question!’ she snapped.

‘Why have you left your assigned cell?’ he said menacingly. ‘Which cell is yours?’ he added. He’d enjoy administering her punishment, beating the hobbits in the cells to either side of hers. It made the little rats feel so bad, knowing they’d caused such pain to others of their kind.

‘CELL?’ she shrieked, but feeling the hobbit in her lap twitch, she lowered her voice to a bad-tempered hiss. ‘I have no CELL, young MAN, and have no intention of being CONFINED to one. My SON happens to be your BOSS, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll be properly RESPECTFUL to your BETTERS!’

He stepped back, uncertain, lowering the whip. ‘Sorry, ma’am,’ he stammered.

‘Now, what is that... swill? I ordered clean, fresh water!’ Lobelia said testily.

‘It’s soup, Mistress, for the prisoners’ supper.’

‘There’s a prisoner here,’ she said as he picked up the bucket and started to turn away. ‘Why doesn’t he get any soup?’

He pointed to the battered man-sized cup lying on the floor beside what looked to be a discarded crust of bread, hard and stale. ‘He ain’t et his breakfast, ma’am. He don’t need no supper.’

‘Fill up that CUP, young MAN, and no more nonsense!’ she said, menace in her tone.

He dipped the cup into the bucket and handed it to her with a bow. Seconds later, he was wearing the soup upon his face, for Lobelia had flung the cup at him as soon as she’d got a closer look at the stuff.

‘You call this SOUP?’ she raged. ‘Why, it’s not even WARM!’ As he stood blinking at her, she ordered, ‘You take that SWILL back wherever it was you got it and make it properly HOT, at the very LEAST!’

‘Yes’m,’ the ruffian said, picking up the bucket and hastily exiting the room, his ears ringing from her strident tones.

Two ruffians appeared some time later, one bearing a steaming bucket, and the other a bucket of clear, cold water and some reasonably clean rags. There was no loaf of bread, but she’d take up that matter a little later. At the moment, she thought she had enough to work with. The ruffian with the soup bucket dipped the prisoner’s cup into the hot liquid, then pulled another cup from a bag and dipped that, setting both on the floor before Lobelia.

‘You could have a cell of your own with a little table and chair, Mistress,’ he said. ‘No need to sit on the cold floor.’

‘I’m fine!’ she snapped. He nodded, then took another piece of bread from his pocket and balanced it atop the second cup. ‘Your dinner, ma’am,’ he said politely.

 ‘Thank you,’ she grumbled. Her mother had raised her to mind her manners, after all.

Chapter 2. Mistress Lobelia Takes the Cake

’If that will be all, ma’am?’ the ruffian chief said, edging backwards. He’d seen how quick the old biddy could grab that umbrella, and he preferred to be out of reach.

’Not quite,’ Lobelia said regally. ‘That bed you have for me, has it a blanket?’

‘Yes’m, of course it does,’ the ruffian chief said. The hobbit was, after all, the Boss’s mother. Besides, the chief had a mother of his own, back home. He’d see to it that Mistress Lobelia was as comfortable as his restrictions allowed. Perhaps she was tiring of sitting on the cold floor, cradling that filthy, stinking rebel, and would retire to her own cell.

Sharkey’s orders or no Sharkey’s orders, the rebels ought to quietly disappear in the night, and things would settle down again. Even with half the prisoners suddenly deceased, there would be plenty of live hobbits—if you could call it living—in the Lockholes for the Chief to gloat over. The old biddy was probably senile, anyhow, and wouldn’t even miss the hobbit she was holding at the moment.

’I’m cold,’ Lobelia said pleasantly. ‘Bring my blanket to me here.’

’Wouldn’t you rather seek your bed, Mistress, where your blanket awaits you?’ the rebel chief said as ingratiatingly as he could. It was a mistake, he realised as his fingers instinctively sought to plug his ears.

’NO I WOULD NOT rather seek my BED, young MAN!’ she shrieked.

Before she could continue, he held out his hands. ‘Begging your pardon, Mistress,’ he said quckly. ‘I’ll fetch it myself, in this instant.’

’You do that, young Man,’ she said, satisfied, and looked down at the prisoner in pointed dismissal. Cursing himself for a coward and a fool, the ruffian chief strode down the corridor to the room they’d prepared when she’d arrived, snatched the blanket from the bed, and returned with it.

Mistress Lobelia accepted the blanket with a sniff, then told the Men they were free to go for the nonce. She’d call them when she needed them. Politeness seemed the prudent course, so they bowed respectfully and took their leave.

The “soup” had cooled somewhat, but was still warm to the touch. Lobelia tried to break the crust of bread that had been on the floor, but it was too old and hard, and she ended up poking it into the soup in the cup, to soften while she turned her attention to the fresher piece. This one she was able to break into small chunks, which she soaked in the second cup of warm swill, after sipping it to bring the level down enough to fit the bread in. She shuddered at the taste, but it was warm, and it was liquid, and it had evidently had some nodding acquaintance with potatoes, perhaps even a touch of onion, so she’d make do.

She got up and spread the blanket out over the sick hobbit, tucking it under him to protect his body from the chill of the stone floor. Next she dragged the bucket of water close; she’d want to be able to reach it easily. She piled the rags by the bucket, put the soup within reaching distance (even the rock-hard bread was beginning to soften), and sat down, easing her lap once again under the fevered hobbit’s head.

Lobelia took up a cloth and dipped it into the bucket of cool, fresh water, then began to gently wash the dirty face, a mixture of caked-on mud, dust, and dried blood. Her charge stirred, trying to lift a hand, but the blanket held him down. He began to struggle feebly, his eyes blinking in an attempt to see his surroundings. He was wasting precious energy, Lobelia decided.

 ‘There, there, it’s all right,’ she soothed. ‘No,’ she added firmly, ‘don’t throw the blanket off.’

She stroked his hair back from his forehead and muttered, ‘I ought to have a shears, you’re shaggier than a sheep in the springtime. Now we’ve washed the dirt away, let us have a look at your face.’

He shook his head weakly, trying again to push the blanket away, to push her away, she thought, but she soothed his forehead again with her fingers and murmured reassurance.

‘There lad,’ she said. ‘It’s all right.’ She soaked the cloth again, squeezed some of the water out, went over his features one more time, then took the cloth away to peer at his face in the shadowy light from the torches in the corridor. Were her eyes tricking her? She gasped.

 ‘A Took!’ she whispered, ‘but how do you come to be here? I thought they were hanging any Took they could get their hands on...’ Lobelia remembered hearing the Men sitting around at Bag End, joking with Lotho. Uncouth louts, she’d thought at the time, and their jokes were not funny at all. “The only good Took is a dead one,” was one of the things they’d said. She’d used a similar phrase herself, talking about garden snails. She did not find it at all amusing, applied to hobbits.

She looked more closely, then decided, ‘No, not all Took. There’s some Bolger in that face. Ah, lad, I can guess who you are. ‘Tis a wonder to find you alive at all.’ How had Fredegar Bolger escaped hanging? Of course, she’d heard it put about that he’d died in a raid, taken a ruffian arrow and been buried in a shallow, unmarked grave. She’d called on his parents to give them her condolences and to say “I told you so”, but the grand house was empty, the Bolgers gone away, and none could say where.

The soup was cooling, and he seemed awake enough to swallow some of it, so she lifted his head, murmuring, ‘Here now, it’s not proper bread at all, and it is only soaked in that travesty they call “soup”, but it’s food of a sort, and you look as if you haven’t eaten in days. Come lad, take a little sustenance.’

She picked up some of the bread from the cup, warm and crumbly now, soft enough to swallow without chewing. Delicately, she eased her fingers past his lips, placing the food in his mouth, and was heartened to see him swallow. ‘There’s the lad,’ she encouraged. ‘Take some more, now.’

She continued to pick up tiny amounts of soaked bread and slip them into his mouth, much as she had fed her precious Lotho when he’d been a small lad, smitten with illness, too weak to feed himself, and unhobbitly disinterested in eating. They’d played the baby bird game, she recalled with a smile.

Lobelia slowly fed him all the bread and soup from both cups, though by the time they finished that meal it was no longer warm. Still, it was an accomplishment to have gotten the food into him, and a hopeful sign that he was not moribund. She laid him down with a pat on his shoulder. ‘There now, lad, you sleep a bit. I’m going to see who else is in this forsaken hole.’

She tucked the blanket securely around him and rose, picking up her umbrella. The cold ground beneath her had stiffened her old bones, and she tottered out into the corridor.

Seeing a ruffian, she said, ‘YOU, there, young Man...’

He had not heard the news, and tried to seize her by the arm. She soon set him right.

***

Lobelia walked the length of the corridor, peering into each cell in turn, seeing hobbit forms lying or crouching in the shadows. None answered her when she spoke to them. Reaching the end, she stared down into the blackness that hid the next level. A terrible stench arose from the hole, and she turned away. No torches were lit down there, evidently nothing alive was housed there. At least, she hoped that was the case.

She retraced her steps to the entrance of the Lockholes. Seeing the ruffian chief talking to the scribe, she beckoned.

’Yes, Mistress Lobelia?’ he asked politely.

’What’s the name of that lad I was sitting with? I didn’t know him,’ she said. She was curious; did they know they had Fredegar Bolger amongst their prisoners? It might explain why his condition was among the worst of the hobbits there, though several were nearly as bad off. She thought she could tell which were the rebels by the terrible condition they were in, the bruises telling of beatings, the terrible thinness of their bodies, the hopelessness in their eyes by the light of the flickering torchlight.

The chief beckoned to the scribe, who advanced with one wary eye on the umbrella. ‘His name is Sandy Riverbottom,’ he said, checking his sheet to be sure. He scratched his head. ‘That's odd, I never noticed that before: he’s the only Riverbottom there...’

‘Ah, most of the Riverbottoms live up away in North Farthing,’ Lobelia said smoothly. ‘He’s far from his kin.’

’Wonder how he got mixed in with a bunch of rebel...,’ the chief said. He’d been about to say “pigs”, but considering the company, ended with “hobbits”, instead.

‘That I cannot tell you,’ Lobelia snapped, her temper growing short again. She’d known very well what was on his tongue; she could read him like a book. Both ruffians stiffened. ‘What I CAN tell you,’ she continued tightly, ‘is that the conditions here are disGRACEful. Why do none of the prisoners have blankets?’

’We weren’t issued any...’ the chief began.

‘HAH!’ Lobelia shouted, and raised her umbrella threateningly. ‘I know for a FACT that you have STOREHOLES full of blankets here in Michel Delving, that you’ve “gathered for fair distribution”—‘ and here her voice dripped with irony, ‘—from the hobbits in the surrounding area. Well, I’d suggest you start distributing them, here and now, if you know what’s GOOD for you.’

‘Yes’m,’ the ruffian chief said quickly. His head was beginning to pound, it was nearly time to knock off for the day, and what he really wanted was some beer and quiet. He definitely did not want Mistress Lobelia to start shrieking again. He glared at the scribe. ‘See to it!’ he snapped.

‘But—‘ the scribe protested.

‘Now!’ the ruffian chief and Lobelia shouted in unison. Outmatched, the scribe turned tail and fled to carry out his orders.

’Will there be anything else, ma’am?’ the chief said, hoping there wasn’t. ‘Shall I show you to your room, now?’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Lobelia said. ‘All I want is some dinner, and...’

‘Dinner?’ the chief said, puzzled. ‘But we served you your dinner, with that rebel, er, hobbit.’

‘That was his dinner,’ Lobelia said, her eye glinting dangerously. ‘Now I want mine.'

It wasn’t worth the argument. ‘Yes, Mistress,’ he said. ‘Wait here a moment and I’ll fetch it.’

 ‘Make sure it’s HOT!’ she shrieked after him.

Chapter 3. Evil, Personified

Taking her dinner, Lobelia returned to Fredegar Bolger’s side. He was sleeping peacefully, she was glad to see. It was probably the first time in weeks that he had a blanket and a full belly. She sipped her swill and chewed her crust while considering her next move. She’d have to keep a close watch on the ruffians, she decided. They were not at all trustworthy, to her thinking.

Accordingly, she settled down just inside the doorway of Freddy’s cell and arranged herself comfortably, propped up against the wall with a clear view of the corridor. She’d see any ruffians coming in, especially since they apparently kept the torches burning at all times, day or night.

She dozed, finally.

Old hobbits are light sleepers, wakening easily at the smallest sound. In addition, they don’t seem to need much sleep at night, although the daytime naps might account for this. In any event, Lobelia was awakened by a soft footfall in the corridor outside.

Lifting her head, she saw the ruffian chief stop outside the cell opposite, duck inside, and emerge with a small figure in his arms. He walked softly down the corridor, heading inwards. Lobelia walked more softly behind him, umbrella at the ready. He stopped at the hole leading down to the next level, and she realised he was going to drop the limp hobbit into it.

’STOP!’ she shrieked, her voice echoing through the corridor. ‘IF you drop him, I’ll RUN you THROUGH!’ she continued, poking her umbrella into the tender part of his back, right about where one of his kidneys would be found.

He had nearly dropped young Robin Smallfoot anyhow in his shock, but he managed to keep hold of the hobbit tween, just barely.

’I will not even ASK what you think you are doing,’ Lobelia snarled, ‘for I have a very good idea. You were dumping a hobbit like refuse, when I can clearly see he still lives and breathes.’

The chief stood silently, still holding Robin, uncertain as to his course.

’I won’t tell anyone what I just witnessed,’ Lobelia said, ‘if you take him right back to his cell. I’d imagine even Sharkey would take a dim view of his prisoners disappearing down a hole when he’d not got his full measure of gloating in.’

The chief shot her a startled glance. The old biddy didn’t miss a thing, he gathered.

’That’s right,’ she said. ‘I know he keeps them here as pets, like dogs that he may come and kick whenever he likes. You have some ninety-seven hobbits here, I understand. He keeps count, you know. I’ve heard Him talk.’

The chief had no doubt that she had heard Sharkey talk about his captive hobbits. The Chief did come around on occasion, just as she said, visiting the creatures and taking pleasure in their wretchedness.

’Let this be a warning to you,’ Lobelia said. Meeting her stare, the thought occurred to the chief ruffian, and not for the first time, that Sharkey might have sent Lotho’s mum to the Lockholes in order to spy on the Men there. He’d better watch his step. Noticing his hesitation, she snapped, ‘Put him back!’

The chief ruffian nodded, admitting defeat, and returned Robin to his cell, Lobelia hobbling along behind him, umbrella handy.

Coming out of the cell again, he found Lobelia standing, umbrella at the ready. ‘Now how about those blankets?’ she snapped.

’Coming right up,’ he answered, and went to keep his promise.

***

The next morning, Lobelia bathed Fredegar’s hot face with more cool water, then decided to sponge his body for good measure. She pulled his shirt open and barely suppressed a gasp, seeing the festering wounds there from half-healed whip slashes. There was bruising, as well. He had evidently suffered more than one beating. The wounds would have to be cleaned or the infection would kill him. As gently as possible, she dabbed at the injuries, crooning softly whenever he winced at the touch.

His right hand, too, was worrisome, the fingers twisted and bent in ways fingers ought not to be. She used some of the rags to wrap the hand gently, giving the poor distorted fingers support, to keep them from catching on the blanket and causing him further pain. Even her gentlest ministrations were not gentle enough, wringing from him a moan, and tears came to her eyes.

She sniffed, and raised her head to see a ruffian in the doorway with a bucket.

‘Tea,’ he said uncertainly.

 ‘That had better be HOT,’ she retorted.

‘Yes’m,’ he said meekly, advancing into the room to fill both cups. Steam rose reassuringly from the bucket and the cups, and she grimly nodded thanks.

‘Here, lad,’ she said, holding one of the cups to Fredegar’s lips. ‘They call this “tea”. It’s hot, at least, so drink up.' She managed to get the whole cupful into him, and as he let his head fall back, he sighed.

‘There’s a lad,’ Lobelia said. ‘They tell me you gave the name “Sandy”, so that is what I’ll call you.’

‘My name is Number seventy-four,’ he whispered. Her eyes widened with horror; they’d taken away the hobbits’ names? Even the made-up name Fredegar had assumed, they’d taken that away and given him a number to call himself? Abominable!

‘Sandy,’ she said firmly.

He reached weakly to grasp her arm. ‘They’ll beat you,’ he said desperately. ‘My name is Number seventy-four.’ His worry for her was pathetic, and shattering. He wasn’t afraid of the consequences for himself, but beside himself that she would come to harm, for calling him by name, a proper hobbit name at any event, and not by a ridiculous number.

She snorted. ‘I’d like to see them try, the ninnies! Don’t you worry your fevered head about me, Sandy. You’d do better worrying about those louts of ruffians. Why, when I get through with them...’ She was completely and utterly disgusted with Sharkey and his Men, and she intended to give him a piece of her mind next time she saw him. Perhaps she’d give him a piece of her umbrella, as well.

However, Sharkey seemed to be busy about other things. It was some time before he came to gloat over his helpless prisoners, and Lobelia made good use of the time.

By dint of constant supervision and much badgering, Lobelia saw to it that each prisoner had a blanket and twice the food he’d been consuming previously. She moved from cell to cell with impunity, though most of the hobbits would not talk to her. She understood why when she’d been conversing quietly with a hobbit, and after leaving the cell and working her way down the corridor, she heard him cry out.

Racing unsteadily back to his cell with avenging fury lending speed to her feet, she found a ruffian administering a beating, snarling at the hobbit that he’d broken rule number twenty-six, about maintaining peace and quiet.

‘I’ll give you PEACE and QUIET!’ she shouted, applying her umbrella where it would do the most good. It did not take her long to drive the ruffian away. After that, she had a little talk with the chief, and the beatings stopped. She did have to promise, however, that the other hobbits would stay tight inside their cells, and not talk unless she were talking to them. These conditions being a great improvement over what had gone on previously, she conceded, for the nonce.

Fredegar Bolger was improving slowly. Lobelia held him and fed him, making sure he took all the food allotted him, and when she finished with him, she’d move to help another hobbit eat, and then another, any who did not have the strength to feed himself. She found herself spending much of her time with Fredegar, however, talking to him, trying to bring him back to full awareness.

He was opening his eyes more, these days, and responding to her talk, though he said very little himself, and still insisted that his name was “Number seventy-four”, despite all her efforts to get him to say otherwise. She didn’t know if he was still trying to protect her, or if he were truly deluded.

Then came the day that she was sitting on the floor of his cell, his head in her lap, coaxing him to eat of the bread she’d soaked in “soup”, and the light from the torches in the hallway dimmed. A chill seemed to surround her, and she looked up to see Sharkey standing in the doorway. He appeared as a kindly old man, grandfatherly, benevolent, but something unpleasant glinted from his black eyes and she stiffened. He spoke, and his Voice seemed to wrap itself around her, trying to take hold. ‘I’m told you do not care for the facilities here.’

She answered bravely, though her voice quavered with fear. ‘The food is abominable, not suitable for sustaining life, and your ruffians...’

‘The food is not intended to sustain life,’ his Voice said, amused, condescending, quite pleased at the opportunity to enlighten this creature, to make obvious to her the depth of wretchedness she could anticipate. He smiled kindly, shook his head gently, dismissing her as a naughty little hobbit lass, ungrateful to her generous and loving benefactor. ‘It is merely intended to prolong life, for a time, in the greatest misery possible. Death by slow starvation is exquisite torture, would you not say? And most suited to hobbits, in my opinion.’ Fredegar stirred in her arms. Her breath came short, her eyes were wide as she fought to throw off the spell woven by his words.

Her arms tightened about the hobbit she called “Sandy” as she sat tense and silent, enduring the scrutiny of the wizard’s intense gaze. Finally, the wizard released her from her thrall, smiled warmly, patted her head with his hand, and glided silently away. She sat stiff a moment more, then relaxed, bowed her head, and let fall the tears she had held back since her first sight of the Lockholes and the hobbits buried alive there.

When she found her voice again, all she said was, ‘Evil. Pure evil that one is. I pray he comes to a fitting end.’

She took a shaky breath, and then said in her normal tones, ‘Come now, lad, this bread is going wanting.’ She clenched and unclenched her fist until it stopped its trembling, picked up some sopping bread, and touched it to Fredegar’s lips. ‘Come, take another bite.’

After she’d finished feeding him, she laid him down, tucked the blanket carefully around him, and got up. She peered cautiously from the door, but there was no sign of the wizard. He was well gone, then, and good riddance. She emerged into the corridor, squaring her shoulders, resisting the urge to creep along the wall like a frightened mouse.

Lobelia visited several more prisoners, and then settled again by Fredegar’s side to eat her own supper. Some time after finishing, her head dropped onto her chest and she began to snore, though her hand kept a tight grip on her umbrella.

 Ruffians silently entered the cell, taking up the drugged hobbit, carrying her to an empty cell far down the corridor and laying her within. Lobelia didn’t waken at the sound of the hammer blows. When she did waken, hours later, still clutching her umbrella, she was at first confused, thinking the torches had gone out. She felt her way across the floor, not finding Fredegar as she’d expected. That was odd. She fetched up against a wall and felt her way along to a rounded corner. She kept going along a shorter span to another rounded corner. This was very odd indeed. She felt her way along another wall of smooth stone, to fetch up against the roughness of splintery wood. Feeling upwards and down, then side to side, she realised what had happened. Boards had been nailed across the entrance of this cell, a cell empty except for herself, not even food and water left to her. She was alone in the dark, and there was no way out.

Chapter 4. A Little Fall of Rain

The day after the Battle of Bywater, Frodo Baggins rode to Michel Delving and released the prisoners from the Lockholes.

Samwise rode by his side, and Merry and Pippin were with him, grim in their bright armour. They had stopped at the grave of the nineteen hobbits who’d given their lives in defence of the Shire, stood with heads bowed for a silent moment, then mounted their ponies.

There was quite a traffic of hobbits on the road to Michel Delving, they found, a few driving waggons, even one or two coaches in the silent throng, but most on foot, all going in the same direction. They were the fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, wives, sons and daughters, cousins and other relations, even neighbors of hobbits who’d been taken away by the ruffians. Now that the pall of fear had been lifted from the Shire, they went in search of their lost loved ones.

’Which storeholes, do you think?’ Frodo said over his shoulder to Merry. ‘Will we have to search each one in turn?’

’I don’t know,’ Merry said. ‘We’ll bake that bread when it’s risen. This might all be moot, anyhow; the hobbits of Michel Delving may have already freed the prisoners, with the ruffians all gone away.’

When they reached Michel Delving, the streets were empty, the houses and holes deserted. There were no smiling, cheering hobbits waving aprons and dishcloths and handkerchiefs to greet the conquering heroes. There was no one at all, and the Travellers wondered.

‘Let us go to the Storeholes,’ Frodo said, after they had watered their ponies at the trough in the square. ‘Perhaps they are all there, ministering to the prisoners and celebrating their release.’

‘That would be a sensible guess,’ Sam said approvingly. Undoubtedly Mr Frodo had the right of it.

They found the townsfolk at the Storeholes as Frodo had predicted. There was no need to guess which of the great storeholes had been converted to Lockholes. A great crowd of hobbits stood silently around the entrance to one of the tunnels, outside of which several ramshackle shacks and buildings had been constructed.

The crowd parted to let the Travellers through, but there were no cheers, no greetings. Merry bit off an exclamation at the sight of tear-streaked faces raised to look at them.

As the Travellers swung down from their ponies, Frodo looked about the crowd, dread in his heart. Had the ruffians slaughtered all the prisoners before they’d left to join the battle at Bywater? ‘What has happened?’ he said.

‘It’s a spell,’ one old gaffer answered quietly. ‘That wizard said that any who dared enter would be turned to toads or lizards—‘

‘—or snakes!’ someone else put in bleakly. There were several sobs from the crowd.

‘They’re all in there,’ a hobbit in shepherd's clothing said. ‘But we’ve no way to get ‘em out. We’ve been standing here, hoping they might come out on their own.’

’A spell!’ Pippin bit off in disgust. ‘How can you believe--?’

’Pip,’ Merry said quietly, putting a restraining hand on his arm. ‘It was Saruman. Have you forgotten?’

Frodo started forward, but Merry sprang to intercept him. ‘No, cousin,’ he said, ‘Let me go. They might have laid a trap within.’

Frodo protested, but Merry insisted and Sam took his part. ‘Wait here, Mr Frodo,’ he said. ‘We don’t know what’s in there.’

Merry drew his sword as he approached the entrance, the blade gleaming dully in the dim light of the cloudy day. He walked slowly, stopping a few steps in to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. When he could see a bit, he proceeded, sword at the ready, feeling with his toes, finding nothing under his feet but the smooth surface delved out of the rock.

He walked until he came to an end, a blank wall, and peering about him by the dim light coming from the entrance, he saw that the tunnel made a sharp turn into darkness. ‘Hullo!’ he called. He was answered only by echoes.

Retracing his steps, he sheathed his sword and emerged into daylight. ‘It’s as dark as Moria in there,’ he reported to Frodo, ‘and there’s an awful stench, like nothing I’ve ever smelled before.’

Frodo’s face was terrible as he turned to shout to the crowd. ‘Fetch lamps, lanterns, candles! Bring anything that will make light!’ Part of the crowd melted away as hobbits ran to do his bidding.

They returned, lit the lamps and torches they carried, but still hesitated. None would approach closer than ten paces from the entrance.

Suddenly Frodo gave an exclamation, feeling inside his coat, pulling out the phial of Galadriel. Holding it high he turned about to address the crowd. ‘This is Elvish magic!’ he shouted. ‘Stronger than any spell the wizard might have cast upon you! Within this glass is set the light of the star of Earendil, and no shadow of remaining evil will stand before its gleam!’

‘Good thinking, cousin!’ Merry muttered for Frodo’s ears alone. ‘Lead the way, go before them and drive the fear away.’

Frodo nodded, and turned towards the entrance. The phial began to glow as he entered the darkened tunnel and the townsfolk began to follow, fearful, hesitant, but growing in confidence as the light from the phial grew brighter.

’Come on!’ the proprietor of the finest inn in Michel Delving said to his sons, clutching his lantern tighter. He hastened a bit, caught up to the Travellers, his sons on his heels.

The stench grew worse as they turned the corner, peering into the inky blackness beyond the phial’s light. ‘Keep going, Frodo,’ Merry said, his voice raised for the benefit of those who followed. ‘Walk all the way to the end, make sure you drive out every vestige of Saruman’s spell.’

Frodo nodded, walking a little ahead of the townsfolk. The other Travellers flanked him, Merry and Pippin to either side, Sam just behind, all tense, expectant, with their hands on their swords, ready to defend him should any evil thing be roused by the light.

The innkeeper and his sons shone their lantern in each right-hand cell they passed, a farmer and his sons checking the left-hand cells. The first few were unoccupied, but at last, they came to a cell where the floor was not smooth and clear, but marred by a pile of rags—at least it looked like a pile of rags. Closer inspection revealed an emaciated hobbit huddled under a blanket.

With an oath, the innkeeper thrust the lantern into his eldest son’s hands, dropping to his knees beside the still form, picking up the stinking body and gathering him close. He could feel fever heat, and the flutter of a pulse against his searching fingers. ‘This one’s alive!’ he said in wonder and in horror.

Two Shirriffs had been right behind the innkeeper and his sons, and now one asked, ‘Who is it?’

’A Took, I think,’ the other answered. He bent to address the blanket-wrapped hobbit, who was blinking at them in sleepy astonishment. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Number Seventy-four,’ came the answer. They stood in shock, and in the stunned silence they could hear other hobbit voices moving down the corridor, calling out to one another in consternation and horror.

‘Number Seventy—‘ one of the innkeeper’s sons muttered, breaking off in a curse. His father would have reprimanded him, save for the fact that he felt like letting off a string of curses himself.

‘No, what is your name?’ the second Shirriff repeated, but the dazed hobbit seemed unable to answer the question or perhaps even to comprehend it. He simply stared into the glow of the lantern, not seeming to see the hobbits surrounding him. The second Shirriff, resisting the urge to be sick, turned to the innkeeper’s eldest son. ‘Go get one of the Tooks,’ he said. ‘They ought to know their own.’ Under his breath, he muttered, ‘Though how a Took escaped hanging is beyond me...’

In the cell across the way, and other cells, similar conversations were taking place, while the Travellers reached the end of the tunnel. Frodo stared down into the stinking darkness. Merry pulled at his arm.

'Come away, cousin,' he said. 'We'll take lanterns down there, but...' he searched for an excuse to take Frodo away from the pit and the terrible secrets it might hold. A Shirriff jogged up to them.

'We've found Mayor Will,' he panted. 'Alive and fairly well, not as badly treated as some. He's asking for you, Frodo.'

Frodo shook himself, coming out of his reverie. 'Mayor Will?' he asked. 'Merry, go and fetch his wife; I saw her in the crowd outside. Pip, we'll need more lanterns and hobbits with strong stomachs. We've got to know if there are any prisoners down there.'

Pippin regarded the pit grimly. 'I'll see to it myself,' he promised, spinning to jog back to the entrance. Merry was glad to lead Frodo away, following the Shirriff to the Mayor's cell.

In the cell next to Prisoner Number Seventy-four's, the shepherd and his assistants had lifted the occupant to a sitting position, while the shepherd held his own water flask to the hobbit’s mouth.

’Ah, that’s good,’ the hobbit said, weakly raising his arm to wipe his mouth. ‘What’re you doing here?’

’We’ve taken back the Shire,’ the shepherd said, cutting to the heart of the news. ‘The ruffians are gone, dead, some of them, the rest on the run.’ He held up the flask again. ‘More?’ he asked.

‘No,’ the hobbit answered, ‘well, maybe in a minute or so. Let’s not drown my innards after the long drought.’ He tried ineffectually to rise and the shepherd helped him to his feet.

’Are you sure you ought to get up?’ he asked. ‘We can carry you out of here.’

’The last time that wizard came to gloat over us I made myself a solemn vow that I’d walk out of here on my own two feet,’ came the answer.

’What’s your name?’ the shepherd said.

’Rocky,’ the hobbit answered. ‘Rocky Sandbank.’ He smiled faintly, the rituals of culture and custom coming back to him. ‘At your service.’

’And your family’s service,’ the shepherd said automatically. ‘Let’s get you out of here.’

He started to help Rocky from the cell but then Rocky shook his hand off, stumbling to the next cell, calling out, ‘Freddy! Mr Freddy, can you hear me?’

The innkeeper’s burden stirred and muttered. ‘Rocky, no,’ he said. He closed his eyes and stiffened in the innkeeper’s arms.

‘You know him?’ the innkeeper demanded. ‘Who is he?’

‘Fredegar Bolger, of course, of Budge Hall!’ Rocky said indignantly. He knelt by Freddy’s side. ‘Mr Freddy?’ he whispered.

The first Shirriff went out into the corridor and seeing Frodo emerging from the Mayor's cell, raised his voice to shout. ‘Frodo! In here! It’s Fatty Bolger!’

The innkeeper could not feel Fredegar Bolger breathing. ‘Lad?’ he whispered. ‘Lad?’ There, a shuddering breath. He relaxed subtly, but still worried that the hobbit would die in his arms. There was a stir in the doorway, and Frodo entered, thrusting the phial of Galadriel into his shirt again. As he entered, he called behind him, ‘Bring litters!’

He hesitated, looking at his cousin in the lamplight, and fell to his knees. He touched Fredegar’s shoulder, gripped it firmly though it felt light and insubstantial under his fingers. ‘Fatty?’ he said anxiously.

Fatty stirred, turning his face to one side, then the other. ‘Number Seventy-four,’ he moaned. He opened his eyes and seemed to see Frodo. His eyes widened in fear. ‘They’ll beat you,’ he whispered. ‘Please...’

‘No more beatings, Mr Freddy,’ Rocky said reassuringly. ‘The ruffians are gone, chased away. There is a Shire again.’

Frodo looked up at the other hobbits who’d gathered round. ‘Let’s get him out of this place,’ he said.

A litter was brought and they eased Fredegar onto it. They lifted him and carried into the corridor, down to and around the corner, and out the door into daylight. It had begun to drizzle, and Frodo helped Rocky along though he kept hold of Fredegar’s hand with his free one. He saw his cousin close his eyes when the droplets touched his face, only to open them again quickly.

As they walked, Rocky told Frodo briefly about their arrest, the march to the Lockholes, the sufferings they’d endured since, ending, ‘...we owe everything to Mistress Lobelia, she kept us going, badgered the guards into doubling our rations, poor as they were, made them stop beating us. They were afraid of her, if you can only imagine...’

Frodo felt like laughing and crying at the same time. ‘I can imagine,’ he chuckled, but there were tears in his voice.

Pippin came up to them, saying, ‘They threw refuse down that pit, but no hobbits as far as we can tell at this early date.' His nose wrinkled with distaste. 'They're shoveling it out now, bless them!' He looked around quickly, scanning the faces of the emerging prisoners. Not finding the one he sought, he looked back to Frodo, saying urgently, 'I'm told you’ve found Fatty, where is he?’

Frodo motioned to the bearers to lay down the litter. Fredegar’s eyes were closed again, and Frodo looked at him anxiously until he saw the chest rise and fall.

‘Here,’ Frodo said quietly, his hand tightening on Fredegar’s. ‘He’s right here, Pippin.’

Pippin’s face reflected his own shock and grief. ‘Fatty,’ Pippin breathed, going to his knees beside the litter. ‘You would have done better to come with us after all, poor old Fredegar.’

Tears came to the cousins’ eyes as Fredegar opened an eye and tried gallantly to smile. ‘Who’s this young giant with the loud voice?’ he whispered. ‘Not little Pippin! What’s your size in hats now?’

Pippin reached to take Freddy’s other hand, moved beyond words, shifting his grip to Freddy's arm when he encountered Lobelia's bandages, but Frodo straightened, remembering that there were other hobbits in the Lockholes.

‘Where is Lobelia?’ he said.

‘Lobelia?’ Pippin asked in astonishment.

Rocky shook his head. ‘I haven’t seen her in a few days,’ he said. ‘The one they called Sharkey came, and after that she disappeared.’

Frodo saw Fredegar shiver and squeeze his eyes shut, and he patted his cousin's shoulder. ‘It’s all right, Fatty,’ he said. ‘Sharkey’s gone.’

‘What if he comes back?’ Fredegar asked shakily.

‘He’s dead,’ Frodo said firmly.

More hobbits were being helped out into the drizzle, and Fatty’s raiders gathered round him, laughing and crying at once. Little Robin was laid down beside him, and he pulled his hand free of Frodo's gentle grasp to reach out a trembling hand. ‘Robin?’ he said.

‘Mr Freddy,’ the tween whispered back. ‘We came through.’

‘That we did, lad,’ Freddy said.

Frodo was glad to hear him sounding stronger. He gave his cousin’s shoulder a final squeeze, saying, ‘I’ll be right back,’ and rose, shouting orders. ‘Find Lobelia, she’s got to be here somewhere!’

Merry came up then, leaning over the litter to say, ‘Hullo, Fatty, I’d hardly have known you.’

‘I could say the same, Merry,’ Fredegar murmured.

‘I want healers!’ Frodo was shouting. ‘Fetch all there are in Michel Delving!’

‘Frodo,’ Merry broke in, ‘there’s a cell in there that’s had boards nailed over it. Of course there’s no hammer anywhere to be found, and a sword is a poor tool for prying nails...’

‘A boarded-up cell?’ Frodo said, then in the same breath he and Pippin said together, ‘Lobelia!’ Frodo disappeared into the Lockholes.

Odovacar and Rosamunda Bolger made their way through the crowd, Odo saying anxiously, ‘They say my son’s been found?’

‘He’s here, Odo,’ Merry said with an eloquent gesture, and the Bolgers stopped still, shock and sorrow on their faces, before Rosamunda threw herself on Freddy, weeping, and Odovacar knelt down to embrace his wife and son. He rose again, tears on his face, and began to greet each of Freddy’s rebels in turn, and to hear bits and snatches of their story and how they’d been saved in the end by Lobelia Sackville-Baggins of all hobbits.

Far down the stinking tunnel in a pitch-dark cell, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins stirred as she heard voices. It sounded like hobbit voices. Was she losing her wits at last? The voices were joined by the sound of banging. Suddenly a piece of wood splintered, letting in a gleam of lantern-light, causing the old hobbit to put her hands over her eyes. The light hurt after such a long time in darkness.

’Who’s there?’ she quavered, then straightened defiantly. She sounded like an old ninny. ‘Who is it?’ she snapped, sounding more like herself.

’Lobelia, we’ve come to get you out,’ said a voice she hadn’t heard in months.

’Frodo? Frodo Baggins? You RASCAL, how did you come to be here?’ she said irascibly.

He laughed. ‘It’s a long story, Lobelia,’ he replied. ‘We’ll have to drain quite a few pots of tea before we get to its end.’ There was a mutter of voices and then he said, ‘Can you move back, away from the door? We’re going to break it in.’

She scooted back against the far wall, clutching her umbrella. If this was some sort of ruffian trick, she’d be ready. ‘Go ahead!’ she called.

She heard someone give a count, followed by hobbits' shouts, and splintering noises. Again, and again, and then the boards gave way and hobbits fell into her cell in an untidy pile. Lobelia had never seen anything so beautiful in her entire life.

’What took you so long?’ she grumbled as Frodo helped her to her feet.

He laughed in answer. ‘It is nice to see you, too,’ he said with a smile. 'Let us depart this place.’

’What about the others?’ Lobelia demanded. ‘Fatty, and the rest?’

’They’re already out,’ Frodo said. ‘You were the difficult one to rescue—‘ she bristled, and he patted her arm, ‘—being boarded in, and all.’

’Ah,’ she said.

Poor Lobelia, she looked very old and thin when they rescued her from the dark and narrow cell. She insisted on hobbling out on her own feet, leaning on Frodo’s arm, but still clutching her umbrella. When the prisoners saw her emerge from the entrance, they raised a great cheer, and the rescuers and townsfolk and anxious relatives who’d journeyed to Michel Delving after hearing of the ruffians’ defeat gave her an ovation that was heard all over the town

She nodded uncertainly to right and left, trying to smile, but tears began to trickle down her wrinkled cheeks. One of the townsfolk stepped forward to offer a snowy handkerchief, and she took it as no more than her due.

‘Stop,’ she said to Frodo, with all her old imperiousness, when they reached Fredegar’s litter, and so they did. ‘Hullo, there, Sandy,’ she said, ‘or is it safe to call you by your proper name, now?’ Her heart grieved at the sight of him; he looked worse by daylight than in the dim light of the flickering torches.

‘It’s safe,’ Freddy answered her faintly, though he still looked dazed, as if he were not entirely sure where he was or what he was doing there.

‘Lobelia, there are not enough words in all of Middle-earth to express my gratitude to you for saving our son and these others,’ Odovacar Bolger said gravely from his son’s side. ‘If you would do us the honour of coming back to Budgeford with us, until Bag End is habitable again... We’re living on the sufferance of our gardener, at the moment, in his cot, but he and his family have been gracious in their hospitality and generous towards the dispossessed, and I am sure they would welcome you as well.’

‘Why, thank you,’ Lobelia said, blinking in surprise. She could not remember the last invitation she’d received to visit someone since Bilbo’s infamous birthday debacle. She always imposed herself upon her relatives, not the other way around.

‘Come, let’s carry Freddy to the coach,’ Odovacar said. ‘It’s a long drive home.’

‘I’d like a healer to see to him first,’ Frodo said. ‘I know how eager you are to take him away from this place, but...’

‘Then let us at least get these hobbits in out of the rain before they catch their deaths,’ Rosamunda said.

‘No,’ Freddy protested, and his parents looked at him in surprise.

Frodo understood. ‘You’ll be taking walks in the rain before you know it,’ he said gently. ‘And walks in the sun, and sitting down to a groaning table and eating to your heart’s content.’

‘One thing at a time,’ Freddy said, obviously overwhelmed.

Frodo laughed. ‘One thing at a time,’ he agreed.

Just then a healer approached, bowing to Frodo. ‘Sancho Chubb at your service,’ he said. ‘You asked for healers? My wife is here as well.’

’Good,’ Frodo said. ‘Some of the hobbits are in better condition than others, but I’d like them all checked over before any are sent home.'

’We ought to get them out of the rain,’ Rosamunda Bolger said again, holding tightly to Fredegar’s unbandaged hand. He had closed his eyes again, seeming scarcely to breathe.

’The inns are closed,’ the innkeeper said, ‘and the ruffians did a fair bit of damage as they closed them down...’

’The Town Hole is in fair order,’ a Shirriff said. ‘We can take them there for shelter.’

’Very well,’ Frodo said, ‘let us do just that.’

Chapter 5.  Pause

’Is that all, Grandad?’ little Frodo-lad piped. Samwise had stopped reading, and sat as if in deep thought.

’Is that the end?’ young Lily said. ‘And they all lived happily, to the end of their days...?’

’Not quite,’ Sam said, closing the book. ‘I’m sorry, Ellie, I’ve read into the middle night.’ He glanced down at small Rose, asleep with her head pillowed on one of his feet.

’Ah, I know, Dad, and I nearly spoke twice, but we couldn’t stop with the hobbits in that awful place,’ Elanor said. ‘Why, Mum told me how she gave Mr Fredegar a cup of cold water, thinking they were about to take his life. “I couldn’t let him go thirsty to his death, somehow,” she used to say, and it always made a tear come to her eye.’

‘But they didn’t know it was him!’ Frodo-lad said in excitement. ‘They took him to the Lockholes instead! Why didn’t they know him, Dad?’ he asked Fastred.

Fastred took his long-dead pipe from his mouth and said slowly, ‘They never bothered to get to know any hobbits, and so they couldn’t tell a Bolger from a Boffin. We all look alike to them, you see.’ He got up, adding, ‘I’ll just take a look around Undertowers, make sure everything is as it should be.’

He exchanged a long glance with Elanor, and she rose, saying briskly. ‘Off to bed with you now, children, there’ll be more of the story on the morrow.’ She looked to Sam. ‘Won’t there, Dad?’ she asked more softly.

Samwise nodded with an odd little smile. ‘I’ve plenty of time, Ellie,’ he said. ‘I’ve nowhere to be going until I’ve finished the story.’ Fastred had waited for his answer, then let himself out the door.

’But if they didn’t end happily, what did happen?’ Lily said.

’I didn’t say they ended badly, Lily,’ Sam said, ‘for there’s a lot of middle to get through, first. But that’ll have to wait for the morrow. Off with you, now, and obey your mother.’ 

‘Good night, Dad,’ Elanor said, getting up and dropping a kiss on her father’s head before turning away to shoo the little ones off towards their beds. She turned in the doorway, saying, ‘And what about you, Sam-Dad? Aren’t you tired?’

’I think I’ll just spend a few more minutes with Mr Frodo before I turn myself in,’ Sam said, patting the Book. ‘You go on ahead, I’ll blow out the lamps.’

’All right, Dad,’ Elanor said. ‘Good night.’

Chapter 6. Picking Up the Pieces

Fredegar felt himself borne along, but he hardly noticed the motion. His eyes were fixed on the clouds, marvelling at the varying shades of grey in the sky, the cool fresh-smelling breeze, the feel of the misty rain on his face, the sound of hobbit voices speaking hopefully, or weeping, or singing, or doing all at the same time.

His mother clung to his left hand as they walked along, talking to him, but the words meant nothing, being mere soothing noises falling upon his ears. He rested in a blissful state of being, without thinking or wondering or wanting.

This came to an end when they reached the Town Hole. As the stretcher-bearers crossed the threshold he stiffened, seeing the sky disappear from view, hidden by the roof of a tunnel. So soon! They were taking him back so soon, and he’d never again see the sky, nor feel the cool rain. Tears sprang to his eyes, but the hobbits around him didn’t understand. They spoke meaningless words of comfort, and he closed his eyes to retreat to that place where the ruffians could not reach, where the blows no longer hurt and the jeers no longer rang in his ears.

The Meeting Hall in the Town Hole was soon crowded with survivors and their relatives and friends. The Travellers had gone around to check on all the released hobbits and ended back with the Bridgefields group, helping with their care, talking and listening. Healers moved quietly through the room, repeating the same advice over again to each new group.

‘They’ll need careful feeding the first days,’ said Finch Smallfoot, a healer who’d come all the way from Bridgefields to find his son Budgie and nephew Robin.

’I was telling them, Dad,’ Budgie said, sipping at a restorative cup of tea. It was real tea, properly brewed. The townsfolk had breached the storage tunnels and found much of the food “gathered” by the ruffians still there. That was a relief, for Frodo had feared that Saruman had shipped enough of the Shire’s life-blood to the South to cause hunger in the Shire until the next harvest. It was nice to know the wizard’s ill effects would not linger.

Five litters were laid out in a row, all members of the Bridgefields band, and the rest of the rebels gathered round with their relatives, anxious about their fellows. Freddy and Robin seemed to be the worst off. Stonecrop was too weak to walk, but lucid, and Beechnut and Rory were positively chipper, though the healer shook his head gravely when he examined them.

’I don’t know how you survived such treatment,’ he said. ‘Starved and beaten as you were...’

’I am well,’ Rory insisted. ‘They served Mr Freddy and Robin the biggest helpings,’ he said.

’They had the bad luck to be in the cells nearest the entrance,’ Beechnut said bleakly, his fingers tightening on his sister’s hand. ‘Whenever the ruffians were in a foul humour, they’d ease their anger on the nearest hobbit.’

’I gave Mr Freddy his worst beating,’ Rocky said, burying his face in his hands.

’I don’t understand,’ Odovacar said slowly.

Rocky was unable to continue, so Budgie helped him. ‘The worst punishment the ruffians knew was to beat someone else.’ He saw that his listeners did not understand, and struggled to explain. ‘If I were to forget and say Rocky’s name, they’d beat Rocky for having his name said, not just me. A part of my punishment would be to listen to his beating. If I were to set foot over the threshold to my cell, the hobbits to either side of me would be beaten.’

Rocky began to weep. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said through his hands, ‘so sorry.’

Budgie rested a hand on his shoulder in silent sympathy.

Healer Finch was slowly unwrapping the bindings around Freddy’s right hand. He sucked in his breath at the sight of the twisted, broken fingers. ‘What in the name of all that’s good...?’ he breathed.

’Another one of the ruffians’ games,’ Beechnut said shortly.

’Games?’ Frodo asked. Merry looked to Pippin; both remembered their time amongst the orcs. Thankfully the creatures had been so pressed for speed that there had been little time for games, but how they had talked, how they had promised, how the orcs had eagerly anticipated what was in store for the hobbits after reaching Isengard...

’That was the Question Game,’ Rocky said softly, bringing his hands down, his cheeks wet with tears. ‘They asked the questions, you answered. For every wrong answer, it was a broken finger, or a blow, or a burn.’ He looked down at the line of burn marks on his own arm and shuddered.

’We heard the wizard tell his Men that they were free to amuse themselves, so long as the prisoners remained alive and intact,’ Budgie elaborated when it was clear that Rocky could not go on.

’Intact?’ Healer Finch asked.

’They couldn’t cut parts off,’ Pippin muttered. Saruman’s orcs had received similar instructions regarding the Halflings they captured at Parth Galen. Merry made an abrupt movement, but Frodo quelled him with a hand on his arm.

’Fewer than half the hobbits we released bear such marks,’ Frodo said. ‘Why were some so served, singled out as it were?’

’They were the rebels; the ones who secretly defied the ruffians, who raided their storeholes to bring food to the hungry, who set traps for them, who...’ Stony said, breaking off as the healer who was examining him touched a particularly painful spot.

’Hobbits in the Lockholes for uncivil speech or the like were left alone,’ Budgie said, ‘unless they broke one of the rules.’

’They didn’t do that very often,’ Stony added.

’No,’ Budgie agreed. ‘They were quiet as mice in their little holes, never stepped out of their cells, never spoke, ate their meagre portions like good little rats.’

’Every so often one of them would be released, to go out into the Shire and tell the Shirefolk what happened to rebels,’ Rocky said. ‘The wizard gave his Men free rein with us rebels, but they were not allowed to harm the others. Those hobbits had to be able to travel about, after release, and spread the news, after all.’

’It made for better co-operation,’ Budgie said bitterly. ‘Who in their right mind would rise up against the ruffians, knowing what was in store for them?’

’Pippin,’ Merry said now. ‘Come away.’ Pippin protested, but Merry fixed his younger cousin with his “no-nonsense” look, and Frodo, after sharing a long glance with Merry, unexpectedly agreed.

’Go on, Pip,’ he said. Pippin looked at him quizzically, then allowed himself to be led away, after bending to murmur words of farewell to Freddy.

‘They’ll have to be re-broken, and reset,’ Finch said to Freddy’s parents, finishing his examination of Freddy’s fingers. Odovacar nodded soberly, while Rosamunda swallowed hard and put her hand to her mouth.

Supper would be arriving soon, and Healer Finch returned to the subject of eating. ‘In the old records, there are stories of hobbits who foundered when they began to eat again after a starving time,’ he warned. ‘You must start out gradually... light meals, but often.’

‘You fill up a waggon too full, the brakes won’t hold going down the hill,’ Stonecrop said. He’d been a carter before the Troubles started. ‘You have to take small loads, you have to make several trips, but at least you get down safely.’

’What’s that supposed to mean?’ Rocky snapped.

’Just what it sounds like,’ Stony said cheerily, happy to have prodded Rocky out of his grief for the nonce.

Roaring fires had been built in the hearths on each side of the great hall, the room was warming, and large kettles of water were heating. Soon steaming buckets were being carried round, with soft cloths, and soap, and clean clothes donated by townsfolk. The freed hobbits’ filthy, tattered clothing was carefully removed and carried off, the battered bodies were gently washed, their wounds dressed, and then they were clad afresh, to their great comfort

’I feel a whole new hobbit now,’ Stony said weakly to his wife.

’You smell a whole new hobbit now,’ she retorted with a smile, though she felt like bursting into tears. She’d counted each rib and each knob on his spine as she’d washed him, and the marks of whip, club, and torch told a grim story to her loving eyes.

’A good supper would not go amiss,’ a shiny-clean Budgie said to his dad, ‘and after that, a pipe, and a nap, I think.’

‘I think we can manage that,’ Finch said. ‘Here comes supper now.’ He pointed to a procession of hobbit mums and tweens, all bearing small covered kettles, and soon savoury smells filled the Meeting Hall as the food was dished out.

’Broth!’ Budgie said in outrage, being handed his portion. ‘I’ve had enough of that to last me all the rest of my days!’

‘Broth for starters,’ Finch said firmly.

’It bears no resemblance to what we had in the Lockholes, I’m glad to say,’ Beechnut said, sipping at his cup. ‘And I’m told we may have as much as we like!’

Budgie sipped at his own mugful. His eyebrows went up at the rich taste. He’d nearly forgotten what real food was like. ‘No more dishwater for this hobbit!’ he said stoutly, holding out his mug for more. It was quickly filled, and he settled back, cupping his hands around the mug, savouring the warmth both inside and outside himself.

Even Freddy and Robin were roused long enough to take several sips of broth. It was a promising start.

***

Outside the Town Hole, Pippin was arguing with Merry. ‘Why are you being the protective older cousin all of a sudden?’ he demanded.

’Your father wanted you to return to the Great Smials when we finished here,’ Merry said evenly.

’Are we finished?’ Pippin said, challenge in his tone.

’You are,’ Merry said firmly. He held up his hand as Pippin started to protest. ‘You’ve seen enough, Pip. I’ve seen enough, for that matter.’

’But you’re going back,’ Pippin said. Merry did not bother to answer this. ‘Pip, you’ve seen enough,’ he repeated soberly. ‘It is time to go home, put this behind, start to take up life as a hobbit again.’

‘Take up my knitting by the fire?’ Pippin said, curling his lip. ‘Did you forget, we have to make sure all the ruffians are rousted out of the Shire?’

’There is that,’ Merry conceded.

’Do you expect to sweep all this...’ and Pippin gestured back towards the Town Hole, ‘...under the rug? Act as if it never happened?’ He was trembling with outrage.

Merry put a hand on his arm, but he shook it off. ‘Pip,’ Merry said. ‘The histories will say that hobbits suffered. Isn’t that enough? Do people really need to read all the gory details, fill their mind with such thoughts?’ Pippin stood tense, not meeting his gaze, but Merry could tell his young cousin was listening.

’Elrond had a long talk with me, before we left Rivendell to return home,’ Merry said quietly. ‘Do you want to know what he said? He’s a very wise elf, you know; he’s lived for thousands of years, scores of hobbit lifetimes. Do you want to hear his advice?’

’You’re going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not,’ Pippin muttered.

Merry smiled. ‘That’s right, I am,’ he said. ‘So hear me, and hear me well, cousin.’

’I’m listening,’ Pippin said, finally meeting his eyes.

’He said that much of the goodness and innocence of Hobbits is that they dwell in goodness and innocence.’ Pippin snorted at this; it sounded rather simple-minded to him. This was “great elf-wisdom”?. Merry put up a hand. ‘Hear me out. Hobbits choose to live in peace, to fill their heads with mundane and everyday thoughts, to dwell on the pleasant things of life, even in the midst of sickness and sorrow.’

Pippin nodded. It was the Hobbit way to make light of heavy circumstances. ’Ignorance is bliss,’ he muttered.

’In a sense. For years we’ve been protected, we know this now, though the average hobbit doesn’t. Rangers and elves have guarded the Bounds, keeping evil things out, for the most part.’

‘Until recently,’ Pippin said. Merry nodded, conceding the fact.

’Until recently,’ he agreed, ‘but the guards are being set in place once more. However, there is a very real danger that the Shirefolk will be poisoned by the attitudes of Men, infected, as it were, and our goodness lost.’

’Is Elrond concerned with cultivating the next Ring-bearer?’ Pippin said bitterly.

’Pip!’ Merry said sharply, and the younger cousin took a deep breath.

’How are you going to keep this a secret?’ Pippin asked, gesturing again to the Town Hole. ‘How are you going to get hobbits to forget -- o so conveniently! -- the beatings and the hangings?’

’They won’t talk about it,’ Merry said. ‘If we leave it alone, you know the talk will return to the common, everyday things of life in the Shire. The histories will be written, and they will be intentionally vague. We can allow knowledge of what happened, lest it be allowed to happen again, without filling the minds of hobbits with things better left unsaid.’

’You’re saying...’ Pippin said.

’Hobbits who never saw a hanging will never learn the meaning of the word,’ Merry said firmly. ‘Hobbits who never felt the whips and burns of the torturers will not be able to imagine such things. The Shire will go on as it always has, Pip.’

’Will it?’ Pippin challenged.

’We shall see to it, Frodo will, you, when you become Thain, and myself. There will be a Shire, Pippin. We shall not allow it to be destroyed by allowing hobbits to take in the evil that is in the hearts of Men.’

Pippin opened his mouth to argue further, but Merry shook his head. ‘Go, Pippin,’ he said. ‘You have work to do in Tookland.’

’But—‘ Pippin said.

’Go!’ Merry said, and his tone brooked no contradiction. Pippin stood firm a moment longer, then turned to go.

’Pip,’ Merry said, and he looked back, only to be drawn into a hug. Merry had come close to losing his younger cousin too many times to let him go with an angry word now.

’Go with grace, cousin,’ Merry murmured, and released him.

Pippin nodded. They weren’t finished discussing this yet, but he’d go. ‘And you,’ he replied, and went to find his pony.

Chapter 7. One Step at a Time

On the morning of the following day, Healer Finch re-wrapped Fredegar’s right hand after a more thorough examination. ‘He’s too weak to bear the pain of re-setting the bones, at present,’ Finch told his parents. ‘We need to feed him up, get his fever under control, heal the infected lesions.’

’Can we take him home now?’ Odovacar said. ‘He ought to be in a proper hole, a homelike place, well-intentioned as the hobbits here might be.’

Finch regretfully shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t chance it,’ he warned. Rosamunda sat silently listening to the conversation, holding her son’s left hand, but when she looked up, her expression went straight to Frodo’s heart. They'd stayed the night in the crowded Town Hole, and while the hobbits of Michel Delving had been kindness itself to the released prisoners and their loved ones, the meeting hall was a far cry from a homey hobbit hole.

’Would Hobbiton be too far?’ he asked. ‘Bag End is a homey place, and...’ He broke off.

’What is it?’ Odo said.

’I keep forgetting,’ Frodo said ruefully. ‘It’s not homey, not the last time I saw it, and...’

‘Not to mention that it’s not yours to offer anymore,’ Merry put in.

’I was about to say just that,’ Frodo said. ‘I’m certainly glad Lobelia didn’t hear me making free with her hole.’

Lobelia had been driven away in state, carried off by Bracegirdles who’d come all the way from Hardbottle to look for relatives taken by the ruffians. There’d been several Bracegirdles in the Lockholes, not surprising considering their abrasive tongues. She had been crushed by the news of her precious Lotho’s murder. Uncharacteristically silent, she had allowed her relatives to bundle her into their coach and drive away without a word to anyone, though the townsfolk had cheered her going. (Folk had often wanted to cheer her going, in the past, and now that they had a good reason for it, they made the hills ring with their “huzzahs”.)

Farmer Cotton spoke then. He’d joined the procession of hobbits on their way to Michel Delving, driving his waggon, in order to bring several hobbits of Bywater back home from the Lockholes. He’d stopped by now to ask when Sam would be returning, and to offer Frodo a room, in case he’d decided against going back to the wilds of Buckland, where all this trouble had started. ‘There’s plenty of room at my place,’ he said.

’I couldn’t put you out,’ Odovacar said formally.

’Who said anything about you putting me out?’ the farmer said in surprise. ‘We’ve plenty of room and to spare. Why, we would have taken the Gamgees in when Bagshot Row was dug up, if it was allowed.’ He nodded. ‘There’s room,’ he said. ‘It may not be fancy, but it’s comfortable.’

Odovacar smiled. He’d been living in a large cupboard in the hole of his gardener, sleeping on a fold-out bed, hiding with his wife whenever ruffians came around. ‘I’d be beholden to you, sir,’ he said with a bow.

’What do you think?’ Frodo asked Finch. ‘Bywater’s not that far, a day’s journey, or two at most.’

’I suppose we could bundle him up well,’ Finch said slowly. ‘I was going to wait here a few more days before taking Budgie and Robin home. I could check in on him on our way to Bridgefields, see how he’s mending. We can take care of that hand when you get him home, in three, maybe four weeks, I’m thinking.’

’Home for Yule?’ Rosamunda said hopefully. ‘And Estella?’

’Stell,’ Fredegar breathed.

’What was that, son?’ Odovacar said, bending over the makeshift bed on the floor of the meeting hall.

’Where’s Estella?’ Fredegar whispered, trying to lift his head. ‘Where is she?’ he begged his father. ‘Did they lock her up, too?’

’No, of course not!’ Odovacar said, shocked. ‘She’s well and safe, Freddy, you know that.’

Freddy didn’t seem to hear. ‘Where is she?’ he repeated. ‘Where?’ His eyes closed and he let his head fall back again, exhausted.

’Where is Estella?’ Frodo asked.

’Freddy took her to Woody End, to the home of Hally and Rosemary Bolger...’ At Frodo’s blank look, he added, ‘Rosemary was Ferdibrand Took’s sister, until she married against her father’s wishes and was disowned. Ferdi stayed in contact with her.’

’I see,’ Frodo said. ‘So Estella is in Woody End?’

’No,’ Odovacar said. ‘Ferdi slipped out of Tookland periodically to gather news for the Thain. Freddy hoped that Ferdi could slip back into Tookland with Estella. The Shire was getting to be a dangerous place for pretty lasses, but Tooks kept the ruffians out of their land.’

’I see,’ Frodo said again.

’Once you’re settled in Bywater, it’s only a dozen or so miles across country to the Great Smials,’ Farmer Cotton said. ‘It wouldn’t be difficult to send someone to fetch your daughter, or even to go yourself.’

’True,’ Odovacar said, looking into his wife’s hopeful face. She’d been bereft of both her children for far too long. He straightened up, saying decisively, ‘Well what are we waiting for? Shall we depart?’

’We’ll ride along with you,’ Frodo said. ‘I think our business here is finished.’

’I sent Pippin off to the Smials last night; he's probably halfway there this morning. I'd imagine he stopped off at a farm along the way,’ Merry said. ‘I’ll go with you, spend a night in Bywater,’ he looked to Farmer Cotton, ‘if I may,’ and receving a nod, went on, ‘and then go on to the Smials to meet up with Pippin. We’ll be planning the campaign to drive the rest of the ruffians out.’

’If there’s anything...’ Odovacar began, turning to Finch.

The healer smiled and shook his head. ‘I’ll get everyone back to Budgeford,’ he said. ‘I brought two waggons with me, hoping that the full score would have survived.’

’Old Oakleaf is making everything ready for your return,’ Odovacar said. His gardener would make sure that the rebels would receive a heroes' welcome when they crossed Budge Ford to enter the town, and he’d already arranged for quite a few little comforts to be delivered to the homes of their families, courtesy of the ruffians and the “gathered” goods they’d stashed in storeholes in the Scary Hills.

’Home,’ Rory said. ‘A fine word it is; I can hardly believe it’s still there.’

’That old wizard used to come around to tell us cheerful little tales. He liked to promise us that he’d leave nothing standing,’ Rocky said darkly.

’He said when he’d finished with the Shire, he’d let us free again, just so we could crawl across the desert that the land had become, and mourn over the homes and hobbits that were no more,’ Stony said, pulling his wife closer.

’He’s the one that’s no more,’ Frodo said, steel in his voice, curiously mingled with regret. ‘He cannot hurt the Shire or Shirefolk any longer.’

’Praise be,’ Rory breathed. ‘Did the hobbits rise up against him at last?’

‘No,’ Merry said quietly. ‘Hobbits aren’t that sort of folk. He was killed by one of his own.’

Chapter 8. Suitable for Hobbits

Every hour they coaxed a bit more broth into Fredegar, though it was difficult to get him to take more than a few sips.

Slow starvation is exquisite torture, Freddy thought. The wizard had the right of it. The hobbit had achieved a measure of peace where his belly no longer seemed to remember that it needed feeding and he had drifted in a fog where nothing really mattered, but the few sips of broth reminded him of the pleasures of eating and awakened hunger.

’More?’ his mother murmured encouragingly. ‘Do have some more, Freddy.’

He turned his head away from the cup she held to his lips. He knew better than to ask for more.

’Don’t force it,’ Finch said. ‘He’s got to get used to eating again, and you’ll only make him sick if you try to give him too much at once.’

Rosamunda set the cup aside with a sigh. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she said softly. ‘I just want to stuff him full of food, fill out his cheeks, wipe away those awful hollows under his eyes.’

’One step at a time, my dear,’ Odovacar said, patting her gently on the shoulder.

They wrapped him up well, and each of his rebels laid a hand upon his shoulder or a brotherly kiss upon his cheek in farewell. ‘Bless you, Mr Freddy,’ Budgie whispered. ‘We all got through and now we’re going home.’

’Home?’ Freddy whispered, and his mother stroked his forehead with a smile.

’Yes, my love, we’re going back soon,’ she said.

’Going back?’ Freddy echoed, tears coming to his eyes. So soon? They were going back to the Lockholes already? He fought the tears down. There was little enough left to him, at least he could try to be brave, to continue on to make a good end.

Tears in her own eyes, his mother said, ‘Yes, my love, that’s right.’

Freddy looked more like a hobbit going to a burial, Frodo thought, frowning down at his cousin. With sudden insight he said, ‘Freddy, we’re not going back to the Lockholes!’

’Not going back?’ Freddy whispered, confused. He wished they would make up their minds. Or was this part of the wizard’s torment?

’We’re taking you home,’ Frodo continued, ‘by way of Bywater.’

’Home?’ Freddy whispered, closing his eyes, waiting for confirmation. He felt Frodo squeeze his shoulder.

’Yes,’ Frodo said firmly. ‘Home. We’re taking you back to Budgeford, by easy stages. You’ll be home in time for Year’s End.’

Freddy sighed. It was finally finished. He saw now Sharkey’s great wisdom, his benevolent care, though the hobbit had doubted it before. They were taking him home to bury him, just as the wizard had promised. He’d be home in time for Yule, Frodo had said.

’Most suited to hobbits,’ Freddy muttered.

’What was that, Son?’ Odovacar asked.

Death by slow starvation is exquisite torture rang in Freddy’s ears, drowning out the loving voices surrounding him. They were taking him home to bury him. He welcomed the end.

’Suited,’ Freddy said again. No beating followed, so he must have got it right.

***

’Mr Baggins,’ a Shirriff said, coming up to them as they prepared to depart. ‘I have a note here for you.’

’A note?’ Frodo said, surprised. There wasn’t even a Mayor at the moment, for old Will was too ill to take up his office at present. How had the delivery service resumed already?

The Mayor’s wife had insisted on conveying him home to feed and cosset him. ‘I’ll let you know when he’s ready to be Mayor again,’ she’d said decisively. ‘You go find yourself another Mayor until then!’

’Perhaps you ought to act as Mayor, Frodo,’ Merry had jested, and Frodo hushed him.

’Don’t put ideas in folks’ heads,’ he warned. ‘That wasn’t funny.’

’No, it wasn’t,’ Farmer Cotton said. ‘As a matter of fact, it makes quite a bit of sense.’ He regarded Frodo solemnly. ‘The Shirefolk look up to you and Mr Merry and Mr Pippin, and Samwise, for bringing those ruffians down and getting rid of their Boss,’ he said.

’Then you be Mayor,’ Frodo said to Merry. ‘It was your idea, after all.’

’So sorry, cousin,’ Merry said, though he did not sound at all regretful. ‘Pip and I are going to be busy sweeping the rest of the crumbs out the door. It’s up to you and Samwise...’

’Go on, Mr Merry!’ Sam said in alarm.

’Very well,’ Merry said, taking pity on Sam. ‘It’s up to you, Frodo. It’s your civic duty and all that.’ He brightened. ‘I have an idea, cousin! If you’d rather not be Mayor, just call yourself “Deputy Mayor”!’

’I don’t know how to thank you for putting my mind at ease, cousin,’ Frodo retorted, and Merry laughed.

’Give it some thought at least,’ Farmer Cotton said, and Frodo reluctantly agreed to at least do that.

He was brought back to the present moment by the respectful Shirriff. ‘Yes, sir. I was given this note to give to you ere you departed for Bywater.’

’Who gave it to you?’ Frodo asked. The Shirriff shrugged. He thought it had been a hobbit from South Farthing, just from his manner of talking, but the hobbit hadn’t given a name and just as the Shirriff took the note someone else had claimed his attention and the hobbit had melted away in the crowd.

Frodo turned the note over in his hand, finding his name writ large on the front in bold, handsome copperplate, vaguely familiar. Alarm stirred in the back of his brain. Was Lobelia already going back to her old ways? He thought of all the nasty, pointed, sharply-worded notes she’d sent to him in the past, suitable for starting fires in more ways than one.

Ah, well, he’d faced Shelob. Surely Lobelia could be no worse. He opened the note.

Merry, seeing him pale, put a steadying hand on his arm and said, ‘What is it, Frodo? Bad news?’

’Lobelia’s given Bag End back to me,’ Frodo said faintly.

’At a “bargain price”, I’m sure,’ Merry said dryly.

’No, freely given,’ Frodo repeated in wonder.

’Give me that,’ Merry said, taking the note from Frodo and perusing the contents. He whistled low. ‘Just what did those ruffians do to her?’

At Sam’s enquiring look, Frodo said, ‘She says she’ll spend the rest of her days with her people, the Bracegirdles.’ He shook his head, blinking away a tear. ‘She apologised for the sorry state of the smial, offered to pay to have it restored.’ He took a deep breath and let it out again. ‘When first I’d come back to the Shire, I feared that the ruffians had ruined everything. Now I see that Shirefolk have changed, and not all for the worse.’ He looked to Merry. ‘There will be a Shire again,’ he concluded.

’Of course there will be,’ Merry said stoutly. ‘We’ll see to it, of course. No doubt about it.’ Sam nodded. He was in full agreement.

Chapter 9. Of Pig Slops and Milk Toast

The coach travelled slowly down the Great East Road. Teatime found them at the place where a road ran southwards from the Great Road, towards Hardbottle in South Farthing. There was the same small cluster of dilapidated buildings, looking perhaps a little shabbier than they had been near the end of September, when Freddy’s rebels had spent the night in the field across the road from the houses.

The Travellers had ridden ahead to Waymeet to work out some sort of accommodations for the Bolgers and to find a healer to attend Fredegar overnight. The good citizens of Michel Delving had packed provisions for those leaving for home that morning, and the Bolgers ate as they rode. Odo and Rosamunda took turns coaxing Freddy to take an occasional mouthful of food or drink, but it was a slow and frustrating process, requiring much patience. Now seeing the ramshackle dwellings ahead with smoke rising homily from the chimneys, Odovacar poked his head out the window to call up to his brother Rudivacar, driving the coach. ‘Let us stop here!’ he called. ‘Perhaps we can get a warm drink for Freddy!’ Rudi nodded. Frodo had described this place to him before they'd left Michel Delving and suggested as much. He waved his whip in acknowledgment and pulled the ponies down to a walk, turning into the yard.

A farmer came from the byre, shading his eyes from the light of the westering sun. ‘May I help you gents?’ he said. It wasn’t often that gentlehobbits were seen in his yard; they usually travelled between Michel Delving and Waymeet without stopping.

Rudivacar hopped down from the driver’s seat, bowing to the farmer. ‘If you please,’ he said, ‘we were hoping for some sort of warm drink. We’ve a sick hobbit in the coach, and he’s—‘

The farmer’s wife came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘Tea’s just on!’ she called. ‘Come on in, and welcome!’

’We couldn’t impose,’ Rudi began diffidently, but the farmer snorted.

’Them Travellers come through earlier, told us you was a-comin’ and that you might be all the better for a cup of tea,’ he said hospitably. ‘They left off a pack pony loaded with supplies, so there’s no dearth of food.’ Rudi grinned as he remembered Frodo, Merry and Samwise each leading several pack-ponies fully loaded with supplies gathered by the ruffians and stored in Michel Delving.

Merry had laughed when Odovacar had raised his eyebrows at seeing them. ‘Did a little shopping in the storeholes,’ he’d said with a twinkle in his eye. ‘We picked up a few things that might come in handy.’

Rudi and one of the farmers carried Freddy between them into the homey kitchen of the largest dwelling, propping him in a well-cushioned chair drawn up by the hearth. One of the farmers’ daughters pulled up a stool to rest his feet, and then they swaddled him in blankets like a babe.

’They said he’d need to be kept warm,’ the farmer’s wife said. ‘We warmed the blankets while we were waiting on you.’ She smiled at Rosamunda. ‘Fern’s the name,’ she said.

’I’m Rosamunda,’ Freddy’s mother said.

The farm family sat down to their tea along with Odo and Rudi, while Rosamunda stayed with Freddy by the hearth and coaxed him to take sips of tea with plenty of milk and sweetening, for he refused any food.

One of the younger lads rose from the table at his father’s prompting and went over to throw another log on the fire. Rosamunda thanked him and he bowed courteously and said, ‘You’re welcome, Mistress.’

Freddy, who’d been staring blankly at nothing, suddenly seemed to see the lad. ‘Pig slops,’ he said softly.

’What was that, Freddy?’ his mother said in astonishment.

The lad, however, turned and ran to his father, whispering in his ear. His father asked, ‘Are you sure?’ and the lad nodded excitedly. ‘Go!’ the farmer said, and out the door the lad ran, shouting, while the guests sat mystified.

Soon the other two farmers arrived with their sons, crowding about the hearth. The gentlehobbits followed and then the wives and daughters of the farmers, until there was quite a gathering about Freddy and Rosamunda. ‘Is he one of the rebels?’ the eldest asked gruffly. ‘That last bunch that came through, last summer?’

’Pig slops,’ Freddy said again, and smiled.

’That’s right,’ one of the farmers murmured, and explained to the visiting gentlehobbits how the ruffians had marched the score of exhausted rebels into the yard near sunset that oven-hot day, allowing them to scoop handfuls of stale water from the bottom of the trough.

’We always kept it full after that,’ another muttered. ‘Fresh and cool, just to be ready...’

Taking turns, the farmers and their families proceeded to tell how the ruffians had sat the rebels down in the dust, not a cloak or blanket between them despite the fact that the air would cool rapidly after the Sun sought her bed. Once their charges were lying quietly on the hard, dusty ground, the ruffians had sat down themselves to eat a meal.

’No food for the hobbits,’ one lad said resentfully. ‘The Men smacked their lips over their fare and dropped crumbs on the ground and laughed, but there was no food for the hobbits.’

The families had sent out bread baked for their own dinners, and the ruffians had taken the bread for themselves, telling the families that if they had any leavings after slopping their pigs, that they might share these with the rebels.

The gentlehobbits listened to the tale, feeling sick at heart. They’d known Freddy and the others had endured suffering and humiliation, from their appearance after coming out of the Lockholes and the little bit they’d cared to tell. The details supplied by the farm families breathed life into the tale.

’Then Tad had a bright idea,’ one of the older boys said, ruffling the hair of the little lad who’d added the log to the fire. ‘We all agreed, and scraped our own dinners into pails, and topped them off with potato peelings and cabbage leaves and stale bread to make it look as if the buckets were full of pig slops! That old ruffian chief, he checked every bucket but he didn’t dig down to find the food!’ He slapped his hip triumphantly.

’They might have hauled the lot of you off to the Lockholes for that,’ Odovacar said soberly. ‘We owe you a great deal.’

’I wish it could have been more,’ the eldest farmer said, shaking his head sadly. ‘I only wish...’

’Freddy?’ Rosamunda said. Her son's hand had tightened on hers. She looked up and around the faces surrounding them. ‘I think he has something he wishes to say.’

Freddy smiled, blinking, finally focusing on little Tad. ‘Lad,’ he whispered. ‘My thanks.’ He drew a great breath. ‘Saved my life,’ he finished.

’Bless you,’ Fern said, laying a hand on his shoulder. ‘We’d a-done more had we thought of anything.’ She too looked about the circle. ‘Go on back to your tea,’ she said. ‘Let the hobbit eat in peace.’ Nodding and smiling, the farmers and their families returned to their interrupted meal while Fern still stood frowning absently at the plate Rosamunda held.

’Has either of you eaten?’ she asked.

 Rosamunda shook her head. ‘I’ve been trying to get Freddy to take a bite but all he seems to want is tea. Come, Freddy, wouldn’t you like a taste of this lovely pudding?’ He turned his face away.

Fern patted Rosamunda on the shoulder. ‘I’ll make up some nice milk toast with the fresh milk from this afternoon,’ she said. ‘I’m sure he’ll eat that.’ She bustled away, coming back with a small pot of milk that she placed near the fire to warm. ‘It’ll just be three shakes,’ she told Rosamunda now, and hurried back to the table where the others were eating and talking quietly. She took some toast from the rack and buttered it well, sprinkled it with cinnamon-sugar, and broke it into pieces in a bowl. Returning to the fire, she took up the pot and poured the warmed milk over. ‘Here Mistress,’ she said. ‘See if he can get some of this down.’

’Thank you,’ Rosamunda replied as Fern handed her the bowl and spoon.

’Not at all!’ Fern said cheerily. ‘I make it for my own little ones when they’re poorly. Here you go, lad,’ she said. ‘Eat hearty, now. I’ve gone to all sorts of trouble to make this for you, and I don’t intend to feed it to the cats, d’you hear?’’

In her jolly, kind voice, Freddy heard an echo of the mocking ruffians. “I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to bring you this lovely soup!” the Man would sneer, shoving the cold, greasy, rancid-smelling, unappetising mess at him. “You’re not going to turn your nose up at it, now, are you?” More menacingly, he’d add, “I would drink it right up, if I were you.”

Meekly he took a few spoonfuls as Rosamunda lifted them to his mouth, to be rewarded by Fern’s pleased, ‘There now, that was what was needed!’

’Thank you,’ Rosamunda repeated with relief.

’You can thank me by eating up your own portion!’ Fern said firmly. ‘It’s too good to go to waste, after all. Those Travellers gave us better than we’ve eaten in months!’

’I’d like to get a bit more into my son if I may. Freddy?’ Rosamunda said, but Freddy had closed his eyes, seeming asleep. His mother sighed and picked up her own fork.

All too soon Odovacar decreed that they must be going on, as arrangements had been made for them in Waymeet and Frodo and Merry would worry if they should be delayed. Flannel-wrapped stones, warmed by the fire, were tucked in amongst Freddy’s cushions in the coach, and fresh coals were put into the footwarmers. They carried Freddy out to the coach and tucked him up snug once again. Odo and Rosamunda climbed in with their son, and Rudi jumped up onto the driver’s seat. Amidst a chorus of good-byes the coach turned out of the yard and onto the road to Waymeet.

Chapter 10. Well-Met at Waymeet

The Travellers rode away from the little settlement, waving to the farmers and their families before urging their ponies to an easy, road-eating pace.

’I’d like to see their faces when they unpack that pony,’ Merry said. ‘Sam, you’re a wonder! I wouldn’t have thought of half the things you included.’ 

Sam grinned and ducked his head at the praise, blushing when Frodo added, ‘Very resourceful, our Sam is.  He knows what supplies will go the farthest, and how to pack an enormity of stuffs—food and otherwise—into an economy of space.’

’You really ought to write a book, Frodo, with your grasp of the language,’ Merry teased, and Frodo shook his head with a grin.

’I suppose you’re ready to sit down and finally write that book on herblore,’ he retorted.

’All in good time, my hobbit, all in good time,’ Merry said placidly. He gazed over the scenery that they were passing; more ramshackle farms, buildings apparently about to collapse of their own weight, fields overgrown and neglected. ‘Clever of those farmers,’ he said to himself.

’Eh? What was that?’ Frodo said.

’I was thinking about what Farmer Barleygrain said back there, about how they’d let the buildings fall into disrepair, dressed the children in rags, made it look to passing ruffians as if it weren’t worth their while to stop. They suffered few losses in terms of crops and livestock, compared to some of the more prosperous-looking farms,’ Merry answered.

’Farmer Cotton did much the same,’ Sam said. ‘From the outside you’d swear his barn was about to fall on the cows. It’s nicely braced on the inside, but you can’t tell that from the road.’

’Yes, and he let the weeds grow up in the fields. It made for a poorer harvest, but the ruffians didn’t bother him too much in their gatherings, either,’ Frodo agreed. ‘Still, with all the trees the ruffians cut down, and all the bricks and boards from those... travesties of buildings they built—‘

’Those will be pulled down, first thing,’ Sam predicted.

’There ought to be plenty of material available for repairs on hobbit dwellings,’ Frodo finished.

’You’re sounding more and more like a Mayor all the time,’ Merry teased, and Frodo gave him a sour look, then sighed.

’I’m going to have to take it on, am I not?’ he said with a twist of his mouth.

’I’m afraid you are,’ Merry said. ‘But fear not, ‘tis only until Mayor Will gets back on his feet.’ He laughed as Frodo shook his head and muttered under his breath.

They rode into Waymeet as the afternoon shadows were lengthening. Pulling up at the inn on the western edge of town, they stared in dismay at the building, windows broken, door boarded up. Merry and Sam got down from their ponies to peer into the broken windows. They saw cobwebs and dust, overturned and broken furniture, a drift of leaves that had blown in. Some small creature scurried across the floor.

’The inn is not habitable,’ Merry reported to Frodo, ‘not even if we pulled the boards from the door. It’ll need a lot of work to clear away the debris and make it welcoming again.’

’Where, then?’ Frodo said. ‘Freddy needs to rest this night, not drive on through the icy cold in a coach, no matter how well-appointed.’

’How about the Boffins?’ Merry said. ‘Don’t they live in Waymeet? It would be easier to impose on a wealthy family than a poor one, I’d say.’

Frodo nodded, and they proceeded to the home of the Boffin family, only to find it empty, deserted, looted by ruffians, the windows broken out, door hanging half off its hinges and no evidence of the owners.

’Perhaps someone at the Shirriff’s house might have a suggestion,’ Frodo said at last. They turned their ponies towards the centre of town, where the ugly brick building erected by the ruffians was to be found.

'I certainly hope so,' Merry muttered, glancing over his shoulder at the western horizon. 'The Sun will be seeking her bed soon, and we have no bed for Freddy as yet.'

To their surprise, they found the Shirriff’s house a hive of activity, with hobbits working as busily as bees at pulling the building down. Already there were tidy piles of rescued bricks and floorboards, the doors and windows had been neatly removed and stacked nearby, and hobbits atop the roof were pulling up shingles, tying them together in bundles, and lowering them to the workers on the ground.

’Folco!’ Frodo cried. ‘Folco Boffin! Hoi there!’

One of the workers on the roof straightened to look, waved, and slid down a rope to the ground. ‘Frodo!’ he shouted. ‘Frodo Baggins, you ne’er-do-well, if it isn’t you in the flesh! I’d heard you were back, and instrumental in throwing out the riffraff. Welcome! And about time!’ he finished, hugging Frodo, who’d slid from his pony to meet him.

’We were looking for a place to stay,’ Merry said, cutting to the meat of the matter. ‘The inns are all closed, I take it, and we went by your home...’

Folco shook his head. ‘We’ve lost everything,’ he said ruefully. ‘The ruffians took all. My father signed his fortune over to Lotho to keep his Men from hauling me off to the Lockholes on trumped-up charges. I’m just a working hobbit, now, doing odd jobs to keep body and soul together.’ He brightened. ‘But come home with me! We’re staying with old Gammer Goodbody; she opened her hole to us. A more generous, kindly soul you’ll never meet.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Rations are a little scanty,’ he said, ‘but we’ll make up in merriment what we lack in provender, shan’t we?’

Merry laughed. ‘We’ll do better,’ he said. He raised his voice. ‘We’ve brought provisions, courtesy of the ruffians!’

The workers laid down their hammers, prybars, saws and other tools and crowded round. Samwise handed out bundles of food to all, and happily there was enough to go round and some left over.

’Now I see why you insisted on each of us leading a string of ponies,’ Frodo said to Merry. ‘I was afraid you’d been infected by the ruffians’ greed!’

’Simply good plain hobbit sense,’ Merry answered cheerily.

Widow Goodbody had a warm welcome for the Travellers. ‘The more the merrier!’ she cried, bustling to put on the teakettle. ‘We’ll just add water to the soup and it’ll go far!’

’You can add more than water, Gammer,’ Folco said, dropping a kiss on her withered cheek as she bent to stir the soup. ‘Our guests have not come empty-handed.’ Indeed they had not. The widow exclaimed as package after parcel was laid upon her well-scrubbed table, and tears began to trickle down her wrinkled face.

’It is wonderful,’ Mistress Boffin said, putting an arm about the widow’s shoulders. ‘We brought nothing when we came to you, and still you took us in. Now your shelves will be replenished, and I won’t feel so much like a beggar on the doorstep.’

’You were never a beggar!’ the widow said sharply. ‘Many’s the time you came with a basket on your arm when I was poorly. I’ll never forget your kindness!’ She hugged the Mistress, wiped her eyes, and said, ‘I’ve some bread nearly “riz”, shall we bake it up in the oven or twist it on sticks and bake over the fire?’

’I haven’t done that since I was a lad,’ Master Boffin said, after washing away the grime from helping dig ditches to bury the ruffians’ refuse. Waymeet would once again be a neat and tidy little town, sooner than later, it seemed.

The Travellers refrained from mentioning that much of the bread they’d eaten fresh, over the past months, had been baked on sticks over a fire—when they could have a fire.

While Mistress Boffin and Widow Goodbody put the finishing touches on supper, Master Boffin and Folco told of the difficulties of the past year. ‘I was never so glad as when I heard you’d come back and tossed those ruffians out on their ears!' Folco's father finished. 'Is it true that their Boss is dead?’

’Do you mean Lotho? Or Sharkey?’ Frodo said.

’Either. Both,’ Master Boffin said.

’Both are dead,’ Frodo said quietly. ‘Lotho was murdered by one of Sharkey’s Men.’

Master Boffin shook his head. ‘Poor Lotho,’ he said softly. ‘Bit off more than he could chew, I think. There was so much promise in that lad. He could have gone far...’ They all sat silent for a few moments, and then Widow Goodbody bustled up.

’Haven’t you finished baking that bread yet?’ she asked. ‘Soup’s on the table!’

’We’re just done,’ Frodo said, rising hastily. They brought the platter with its twists of bread to the table and bowed to Widow Goodbody. ‘We thank you for your hospitality,’ Frodo said.

’You’re more than welcome, lad,’ the widow said. ‘Now sit down and eat before it gets cold!’

While they ate, they told of releasing the prisoners from the Lockholes. ‘The Bolgers are on their way as we speak,’ Frodo said. ‘We were able to travel much faster, ponyback, and pressed our mounts for speed so that we could find a place for them to stop over here in Waymeet.’

’They can stay here!’ the widow said firmly. ‘The more the merrier! Most of my children are grown and gone away; there are plenty of beds, and for some reason the ruffians never bothered me, never came in to steal the linens all neat and folded in the cupboards.’ She smiled a sly smile, and the Travellers remembered the ramshackle appearance of the outside of her dwelling, in complete contrast to the warm, comfortable interior once you passed the bleak, shabby entryway and the dusty, cobwebby parlour.

While Frodo conversed with the widow and the Boffins, Sam and Merry prepared a bed for Freddy in one of the spotless bedrooms. They made up the bed with linens that smelt faintly of lavender and coverlets that the widow provided, tucked heated bricks in to warm the bed, and then Sam started a fire on the little hearth. ‘It’ll be nice and cosy for Mr Freddy,’ he said. He added a few plump cushions to the bed so that they could sit the sick hobbit up to feed him, then stepped back to survey the effect. ‘That bed looks cosy enough to sleep in,’ he decided, stifling a yawn.

’I should imagine, Samwise, that you’re ready to seek your own bed,’ Merry said. ‘You were up early, looking after Frodo, and have earned a bit of rest.’

’I’m fine, Mr Merry, really I am,’ Sam said, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes. He and Merry made up the rest of the rooms needed, and then Merry sent him off to bed, not taking any argument.

’Where’s Sam?’ Frodo said, when Merry returned to the kitchen.

’I sent him off to bed,’ Merry said. ‘And you ought to be the next to go.’

Frodo’s eyebrows went up. ‘Just who’s the eldest cousin, I’d like to know?’ he said.

’I am,’ Merry responded. ‘At least, I’m the eldest when it comes to sense. You take yourself off to bed, Fro, and I’ll make sure the Bolgers find this place.’ It took a little more persuading, but Frodo finally acquiesced.

After the washing-up was finished Merry turned to Folco. ‘Would you like to come along?’ he asked. ‘It’ll be a bit cold, waiting, and I don’t know exactly when to expect them.’

’You make it sound so inviting, I don’t know how I could refuse,’ Folco laughed. ‘If I may, Father?’

Master Boffin chuckled. ‘I’m hardly in charge anymore,’ he said. ‘Head of the first family in town? Not for months, now. You go ahead, Folco, and we’ll make sure there are pots of hot tea for you and the Bolgers when you get back with them.’

Merry and Folco mounted ponies and rode to the inn at the western edge of Waymeet, stopping off at the healer’s to let him know his services might be needed later. Reaching the inn, they scavenged enough wood for a bright fire, and sat down, huddled in their cloaks against the icy air, warming their hands and talking to pass the time.

’So where did you and Cousin Frodo go when you disappeared?’ Folco asked. ‘Everyone said you were dead, but I had my doubts.’

Merry told him the short version, but even so, he was not finished when they saw the lanterns of the approaching coach. ‘Hoi!’ Merry shouted, standing and waving his arms. ‘Well come, and well met!’

Rudi drove up to them and pulled the ponies to a stop. ‘How long have you been freezing your toes off out here?’ he said in consternation. ‘It’s very late!’

’Meriadoc Brandybuck, at your service!’ Merry said with a sweeping bow. ‘The inns are closed, as you can see, but we have found you accommodation and will guide you there. May I present my fellow guide, Folco Boffin.’ Folco added a bow of his own.

’Young Folco!’ Rudi said. ‘I’d heard you were hauled off to the Lockholes, and when we didn’t find you there I feared the worst.’

’Rumours of my demise have been greatly exaggerated,’ Folco said with a grin. ‘Are we going to stand here talking all night? I’m freezing my toes off!’ 

‘Lead on, o guide,’ Rudi said with a flourish of his whip. Merry and Folco mounted their ponies, and the coach followed them through the silent streets. The only sign of life this late at night was the glow of watchlamps in the windows, but it was a nice, homey sight to Merry after the dark wilds.

Arriving at Widow Goodbody’s, they quickly had Fredegar settled in the soft, warm bed. He roused enough to ask, ‘Where are we?’

’Waymeet,’ Frodo said (he'd awakened on hearing the arrival), adding another coverlet and pulling it up to his cousin's chin, while Samwise, all the better for his nap, settled Rosamunda in the chair next to the bed and brought her a cup of tea.

’Too late for supper,’ Freddy murmured, remembering how the rebel band had stumbled into Waymeet in the wee hours, been shoved into a corner of the Shirriff house and forced to watch the ruffians feast while they themselves went hungry, save a wormy apple one of the ruffians threw their way. There had been just enough for each of the hobbits to have a bite, a small one at that, not much more than a nibble.

’Of course it’s not too late for supper!’ Widow Goodbody cried, shuffling in with a tray.

’Are you hungry, Freddy?’ Rosamunda said hopefully.

’No,’ Freddy said. ‘Robin can have my bite of apple; he needs it more than I do.’

’I just so happen to have some lovely apples, baked in the coals of the kitchen fire,’ Widow Goodbody said cheerily. ‘Laced with butter and cinnamon-sugar, smothered in cream and soft enough to eat with a spoon! And more where that came from!’

Rosamunda coaxed half an apple into Freddy, one spoonful at a time, but it was slow going, and more than once he seemed to go to sleep, but she pinched him gently each time to waken him, until at last he moaned and said, ‘No more...’ She sat back in dismay. It seemed to her he hadn’t eaten enough this day to keep a gnat alive, much less a hobbit.

’One step at a time,’ Odovacar said softly, his hands on her shoulders. ‘At least he’s eating.’

Folco had fetched Healer Goodbody, one of the widow’s grandsons as it turned out, and he examined Freddy while Rosamunda and Odovacar ate.

’He is very weak,’ he warned, straightening from the bed. ‘I wouldn’t take him any further than Bywater, and it might be best if he stayed here a few days.’

’If we can take him to Bywater, it would make things easier,’ Odo said quietly. ‘I have business with the Thain, and Bywater is closer to the Great Smials than Waymeet. I do not want to leave my son for any length of time.’

’You could take him to Bywater,’ Healer Goodbody said slowly, ‘but no further, I’d say. He needs a good long rest, and a lot of feeding up.’

’You’re welcome to stay here as long as need be,’ the widow said. ‘Surely your business with the Thain can wait?’

Odo shook his head. ‘I must reunite my family,’ he said stubbornly. ‘My daughter was sent to Tookland for safekeeping, and I do not care to impose on the charity of the Tooks any longer than I have to. Besides, Freddy was asking for his sister earlier. Perhaps sight of her, safe and sound, would chirk him up a bit.’

’I know it would set my mind at rest,’ Rosamunda put in. ‘I haven’t seen her in months! ‘Twill be so nice to have a daughter again.’

’Very well,’ said Healer Goodbody. ‘Take him on to Bywater on the morrow, but keep him well wrapped-up, and try to get food into him, small amounts, as often as you can manage. I’ll leave a strengthening tonic with you as well.’ He shook Odo’s hand, bowed to Rosamunda, and went off to the kitchen with his grandmother, for a chat over tea and the cookies he’d grown up on.

In the privacy of the kitchen, with all the others still gathered around Freddy, the widow sat down with her own cup of tea and fixed her grandson with a stern eye. ‘How is he, really?’ she asked.

’It could go either way for him,’ her grandson said softly. ‘They may be taking him home, in truth, to find healing, or to bury him. At this point, I cannot say for sure which it will be.’

Chapter 11. Ups and Downs

Early next morning, they bundled Freddy up and put him into the coach once again, well tucked up with hot bricks, his feet on a footwarmer filled with hot coals. His mother had tried without success to get him to eat something more substantial for breakfast: some lovely fluffy scrambled eggs, perhaps, or even some custard, to no avail. He took a little tea, but turned his face away from all other attempts.

’Freddy, you must eat!’ she said in desperation, but he only shook his head, eyes tightly closed, a tear sliding down one wasted cheek. He knew this trick. The ruffians would put tempting food before a prisoner, urge him to eat, and then beat him when he reached for the food. They couldn’t catch him in that trick. It hurt, however, to hear the ruffians making his mother cry, and despite the risk of punishment, he spoke at last.

’Please,’ he whispered.

’Try the milk toast,’ Odo suggested. ‘He took that, before.’

Widow Goodbody lightly toasted a slice of the bread she’d baked that morning, buttered it well, sprinkled it with cinnamon sugar, and poured over warmed milk from her neighbour’s cow. ‘Come lad,’ she said sternly. ‘No nonsense, now! You eat this up, we don’t like to waste good food here.’

’Please, Freddy,’ Rosamunda begged, gulping back her tears.

Freddy sighed. Very well, then, let them beat him. He could not bear to hear his mother weeping any longer. He ate several spoonfuls of the mixture, tensing after each, before relaxing and accepting more without apparent resistance. Rosamunda was able to feed him the entire bowlful, to her great relief. She looked up into Odo’s face, and he smiled back at her. It was a minor victory in the fight to win their Fredegar back.

They stopped off at several farms along the way to renew the coals in the footwarmers, warm the bricks tucked into Freddy’s covers, and obtain mugs of hot tea, but by early afternoon, the coach was turning off the East-West road, north to Bywater. Here as well, hobbits were busily taking down the ruffians’ buildings, setting the salvaged materials in neat piles for better use. A cheer was raised for the Travellers, and Merry and Frodo waved gaily in answer. Sam had ridden ahead to let the Cottons know they were nearly there.

Rudi slowed the ponies to a walk as they turned into the lane leading to the Cottons’ farm, but it turned out he hadn’t needed to take that precaution. Someone had filled in the holes and smoothed out the ruts, and the coach moved smoothly up the lane, stopping in the wide yard in front of the Cottons' house. The large round door at the top of the steps was thrown open, and Cottons boiled out of the house like ants disturbed in their nest.

’Welcome!’ Farmer Cotton shouted. ‘Nibs, Jolly, take care of the ponies; Tom, Nick, help them get Master Fredegar into the house! The kettle’s on, and we’ve got everything ready.’

They had indeed. The best room had a bright fire on the hearth and the bed was made up with several layers of featherbedding, for Sam had described Freddy’s thinness to them. ‘No meat on his bones,’ he’d said.

’We’ll have to watch for bedsores, then,’ Mrs Cotton had said briskly. ‘His bones’ll wear right through the skin if’n he’s not resting on clouds.’ The bed was soft as clouds, indeed. Freddy felt himself sinking into layers of comfort, with more layers laid over him, and he sighed.

‘There you are, lad,’ Mrs Cotton said now, softly. There were tears in her eyes. She thought of her fear that Tom might be taken off to the Lockholes, for he’d taken to sneaking out at night, and who knew where he went or what he did when he got there? It might be her son lying there in a bed, a mere ghost of a hobbit. ‘Would you care for a bite to eat?’

’No,’ Freddy said, attempting to smile. ‘Thank you kindly.’

Rosamunda caught the eye of the farmer’s wife and said, ‘Would you have any broth? That seems to go down easily, especially if he can sip it from a mug.’

’I can do even better,’ Mrs Cotton said. ‘Beef tea, that’s nice and strengthening, and we’ve made up some already, knowing you were coming.’ She left the room, returning soon with a steaming mug. ‘See if he’ll take that,’ she said, ‘and I’ll put together a tea tray for you and your husband.’

’My thanks,’ said Odovacar, ‘but my brother and I must be riding to Tuckborough now.’

’Tuckborough!’ Mrs Cotton said. ‘Don’t you want to stop for tea first?’

’No, missus,’ Odovacar said, ‘though I thank you kindly. I have urgent business with the Thain.’

’You might not catch him at home,’ Farmer Cotton said from the door. ‘He’s driving the ruffians out of the Shire, you know, the ones to the South and West, anyhow. Mr Merry and Mr Pippin were to drive them out of the other parts.'

’Well, I’m sure he’s left someone at home,’ Odo said pleasantly, ‘and all I want is to fetch my little girl back from the Great Smials, anyhow.’

At the Cottons’ puzzled look, Rosamunda explained, ‘We sent her to Tookland for safekeeping. I’m a Took, you know.’

’Ah, yes, Mistress,’ Farmer Cotton said, his face clearing. ‘Of course, she’d be safer amongst her relatives there. No ruffians crossed their borders, after all. Would that we’d kept them out of the entire Shire that way!’

’Indeed,’ Odovacar said. He kissed his son on the forehead. ‘Be well, Freddy,’ he said. ‘I shall return soon.’ Then he kissed his wife, squeezed her arm, and left the room.

’Come, Freddy, take a sip,’ Rosamunda said, turning her attention to getting the beef tea into her son. Fredegar sipped obediently, but made a face when he discovered by the taste that it wasn’t tea in the mug. ‘What’s the matter, my love?’ she said. ‘Come, now, it’s good beef tea, very strengthening. Drink up!’ By dint of much coaxing and more than a little scolding, she was able to get the rest of the mug into him.

***

Odovacar and Rudivacar changed from coach to saddle for the trip across country to Tuckborough. Optimistically, they led an extra pony for Estella to ride on the return trip. Just before sunset, they were hailed by a small group of Tooks. ‘Who are you, and where do you think you’re going?’

’I have business with the Thain,’ Odovacar called back.

’He’s not at home!’ came the answer. ‘You might as well turn around and not waste your time!’

’Then I have business with whomever he’s left in charge at the Smials!’ Odovacar shouted. He waited for the Tooks to come up to them.

’State your business,’ the Took said. His bow was strung, and he held it and an arrow in the same hand, in the casual way that archers do when it is merely the matter of the wink of an eye from rest to shooting stance.

’It is personal business,’ Odo said evenly. There was no point in being rude to Tooks; they could be rude enough for two, and if he offended these he’d be turned away summarily and perhaps not allowed back in the bargain.

’What business?’ the Took persisted.

Odo considered, and finally said, ‘I am Odovacar Bolger, do you know me?’

’I’ve heard of you,’ the Took admitted, after a pause for consideration.

’My wife is Rosamunda Took,’ he went on. ‘The matter I wish to discuss with the Thain or his representative is Took family business. My wife could not come, as she is tending our son, who is very ill after being released from the Lockholes.’

’I’d heard about that,’ the Took said unexpectedly, and Odo wondered at his source of information. The Tooks prided themselves on knowing everything about everyone else while keeping their own business amongst themselves. ‘Very well,’ he decided. ‘Follow me. We still haven’t dismantled all the traps we laid against the ruffians, so for your own safety, stay close.’

He waved at the rest of the Tookish guards, who seemed to know what was expected of them. When Odo looked behind him, as they rode away, the other Tooks had already disappeared once more into their hiding place, from whence they could easily challenge, or shoot, any comers.

It was refreshing to ride into Tuckborough, to see things unchanged, the Shire as it had been before the ruffians came. The buildings and hobbit holes were in good repair, the trees were intact, there were even some late-blooming flowers in window boxes, bright in the light shining out from windows sparkling clean. The Great Smials reared up behind the town, standing as it ever had. The only difference Odo noted was the guards outside the entrances of Smials and outbuildings, armed and ready for trouble.

He and Rudi dismounted, and a stable lad was there immediately to take their ponies. ‘Will ye be staying over?’ he asked.

’I hope it won’t be necessary,’ Odo said. ‘I hope to conclude my business quickly.’

’Very well, sir,’ the stable lad said. ‘I’ll rub ‘em down good and give ‘em a feed, but we’ll keep the saddles handy in case you call for them.’

’Thank you, lad,’ Odo said, offering a copper to the lad.

‘Thankee, sir,’ the lad said, and led the ponies away.

At the door they were challenged again. ‘I have business with the Thain,’ Odo repeated. He wondered to himself how many times he’d have to say the words.

’The Thain’s not here,’ one of the guards at the main entrance said.

’He knows that, Haldegrim,’ Odo’s guide said, ‘so take him to see Reginard, will you? I’ve got to get back to my hobbits.’

’Very well,’ Haldegrim said sourly. ‘Come along, you,’ he said to Odo. ‘Don’t dawdle.’

Odo had no intention of dawdling, but he and Rudi were hard pressed to keep up with the Took’s swift strides, leading them deep into the Great Smials, to the Thain’s study. Odovacar had been here on occasion in happier times, and he remembered strolling at a leisurely pace down the corridor with Paladin, in happy anticipation of a glass of fine ale at the end of the journey.

The guard stopped suddenly, to knock upon a door. He stuck his head in, said, ‘Visitors for the Thain,’ then swung the door wide to let the Bolgers enter.

’The Thain’s not here,’ Reginard Took said, rising from his desk to greet them. He knew Odovacar, of course, and had seen Rudivacar on several occasions.

’I know that,’ Odo said, ‘but I hope that you can help me. I’ve come for Estella.’

’Estella?’ Reginard said, a puzzled look on his face. ‘What makes you think Estella is here?’

Chapter 12. Taking Up the Fight

Yet another healer was poking and prodding him. Freddy sighed but made no protest, and this worried Rosamunda as well. Her son was half Took, and lived up to his Tookish side in his disdain for healers, but at the moment he might have been a helpless babe, so meekly he submitted.

’Well then, Master Fredegar,’ Healer Grubb said, straightening up. ‘You and I have our work cut out for us and no mistake!’ She motioned to Rosamunda. ‘I would speak to you over a cup of tea, perhaps, Mistress?’

’I’ll keep watch,’ Merry said. ‘You go on.’

In the kitchen, Mrs Cotton brought the healer a cup of freshly-brewed tea. ‘What is it, Anise?’ she asked.

’Thankee,’ the healer said, sipping the tea, then turned to the anxious mother. ‘Your son is dying,’ she said bluntly.

Rosamunda gasped and put her hand to her heart.

’You’d feared as much,’ Anise Grubb said shrewdly. The brutal truth was needed here if there was to be any hope of saving her patient. She was sure that healers before her had sung the tune she was about to sing (“frequent, small meals”) but she was going to drive the message home before they killed Fredegar with kindness.

’You told me yourself he’s refusing more than a few bites of food,’ she went on. Rosamunda nodded. ‘Well, that will not do at all. You must force your son to eat, at least a teacupful every hour. You may allow him sleep two or three hours at a stretch at night, but waken him several times in the night to feed him as if he were a babe. I don’t care what it takes to get the food down him. If he doesn’t eat he’ll die.’

Frodo stepped up behind Rosamunda, taking up her hand in his. ‘We’ll all help, cousin,’ he said.

’Indeed we will,’ Mistress Cotton said firmly, and Rose nodded.

’I have some tonic here,’ the healer said, ‘and you can give him a large dollop in a cup of tea every hour, but it’ll do him no good if he doesn’t take food — and warm milk with a touch of honey would be better than tea. Do I make myself clear?’ she said, gazing intently into the mother’s eyes.

Rosamunda nodded slowly, her resolve hardening. ‘Very clear,’ she said firmly.

’You take a rest now, Mistress,’ Mrs Cotton said firmly. ‘You’ve been travelling for days, and it won’t do your son any good should you fall ill. We’ll manage the next few feedings.’ She looked to her daughter. ‘Rose, dish up some of that apple compote we made today; it’s good and fresh and flavourful. I’ll stir up a nice custard for his next meal.’

’A rest is a good idea,’ Healer Grubb said, taking Rosamunda’s arm and guiding her from the kitchen. ‘I’ll just see you settled, and watch over Rose to see how the apple compote goes, and then I’ll stop in first thing on the morrow.’

’I am well,’ Rosamunda’s protest floated back to the others in the kitchen, but evidently the old healer had her way for she returned alone, saying, ‘Where’s that apple compote?’

’Right here,’ Rose said, picking up the spoon and a clean cloth in one hand, bowl in the other. The healer examined the apple compote with a critical eye and gave a satisfied nod. ‘I wouldn’t mind a little of that myself when we’re through,’ she said.

Freddy tried to turn away from the spoon, but Rose was merciless. ‘I’m told you like a saucy apple,’ she said with a smile, determination in her tone, ‘and these are very saucy indeed.’

***

Odovacar stood in shock; his brother Rudivacar had the presence of mind to take his arm, guide him to a chair and sit him down. ‘Do you have a glass of water?’ he said urgently to Reginard.

Reginard quickly poured out a glassful from a pitcher on the side table and brought it to them.

’Drink, brother,’ Rudi urged. Odo shook his head, but Rudi pressed the glass upon him until he drank just to have his brother leave off.

’Better?’ Reginard said, eyeing the older hobbit closely.

’Yes, thank you,’ Odo murmured. The others were glad to see colour slowly returning to his face.

’What did you mean, Estella is not here?’ Rudi pressed.

’Just what I said,’ Reginard answered. He smiled faintly. ‘Wouldn’t you think we’d have noticed, were she here?’ Estella’s lively spirit could hardly be contained, after all. The last time the Bolgers had visited, she’d practically turned the Great Smials on its head.

’But—‘ Odo said. He tried again. ‘We sent her to Tookland.’

’Sent her to Tookland?’ Reginard said slowly. His eyes narrowed. ‘When?’

'Last Spring,’ Rudi said. ‘The Shire was becoming too dangerous for pretty lasses, and Odo and Rosamunda were afraid someone would point out to the ruffians that Rosa was a Took, which would put her and the children in danger.’

’None have passed the borders of Tookland but a few Tooks who stole out to gather news,’ Reginard said.

Rudi seized on this fact eagerly. ‘That’s right!’ he said. ‘Rosemary Bolger is Rosamunda’s niece, and Ferdibrand, her brother—‘

’Rosemary Bolger is no longer a Took,’ Reginard said. ‘She was disowned by her father when she married.’

’Rosemary’s brother Ferdibrand,’ Rudi continued doggedly, ‘was said to visit her periodically, to gather news.’

’Said by whom?’ Reginard demanded.

Rudi shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’ he asked. ‘Freddy found out somehow; even then he was going out at night, to “inconvenience” the ruffians. He might have heard of other hobbits doing the same thing.’

’Even if Ferdi were slipping out of Tookland he wouldn’t have gone by his own name,’ Reginard said.

’No, he was known as “the Fox”, I believe,’ Rudi said.

Reginard nodded slowly. ‘If you know that much, I suppose there’s no use denying it,’ he conceded.

’Freddy took Estella to Rosemary Bolger’s home,’ Rudi said. ‘Rosemary admitted that Ferdi would visit soon, and that she’d impose upon him to take Estella back into Tookland. That was the last we heard. Rosemary told us that she’d send word only if something went wrong, that “no news” would be “good news”.’

’I see,’ Reginard said thoughtfully.

’Is Ferdibrand here, in the Smials?’ Odo asked. ‘May I speak with him?’

’He is here in the Smials,’ Reginard said.

’Very well, then!’ Rudi said. ‘We’ll talk to him, and he’ll tell us what happened to Estella!’

’If only it were that simple,’ Reginard said ruefully.

’What do you mean?’ Rudi asked, feeling Tookishly irritated, though he was Bolger through and through.

Reginard took a deep breath, and sorrow was in his voice when next he spoke. ‘Ferdibrand was badly injured in the Battle of Bywater,’ he said. ‘He is not expected to live.’

***

’Where are you going?’ Frodo asked Merry, seeing his cousin draw on his gloves and settle his cloak about his shoulders after the healer took her leave.

’I told Pippin I’d meet him in the morning, to ride to Buckland,’ Merry said.

’I thought you were going to spend the night in Bywater,’ Frodo said, raising a quizzical eyebrow. ‘It’s the middle of the night! Why don’t you get a few hours of sleep, first?’

’I’m not sleepy,’ Merry countered. ‘Besides, Pip was actually expecting me earlier today, so I’m already a day late!’ He glanced at Frodo. ‘Why aren’t you in bed?’

’I had a nap earlier,’ Frodo answered, ‘which is more than I can say for you!’

Merry laughed. ‘The solicitous older cousin!’ he said. ‘I’m not a babe, that you have to send me off to bed, Frodo! I can take care of myself, honestly I can.’

’You might start by sleeping,’ Frodo said.

Merry shook his head. ‘I’ll sleep,’ he said.

’When?’ Frodo pressed.

’When I get to Tuckborough, undoubtedly. You’re making me later with every word. If I’m robbed of sleep, it will be your fault!’

’Merry—‘ Frodo began, but with another laugh, his cousin broke in.

’Watch over Freddy for me, will you?’ he said. ‘Tell him I’ll be thinking of him as we drive the ruffians out of the Shire.’

’Tell him yourself,’ Frodo said, grabbing his arm. ‘Merry, you don’t want to ride to Tookland in the dark. Don’t you remember what Pippin said, about the traps the Tooks laid for the ruffians? Your pony’s likely to break a leg!’

Merry abruptly lost his smile. ‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ he said.

’You should have,’ Frodo said sternly. ‘You’re dropping on your feet. Go to bed! First light is early enough to depart, and you’ll have a fine breakfast cooked by Rosie Cotton in the bargain.’

’Rosie Cotton’s cooking,’ Merry said thoughtfully. ‘You can be very persuasive when you set your mind to it, Mayor — er, I mean, cousin.’

’Go on with you,’ Frodo said with irritation, but after Merry had taken himself off to the bed made up for him by Mrs Cotton he chuckled softly.

Mrs. Cotton entered the kitchen to check on the custard in the oven. ‘Set up nicely,’ she said with satisfaction. She cocked a sharp eye at Frodo. ‘And why are you not in bed, Mr Baggins?’ she asked.

’I was waiting for a taste of that fine-smelling custard,’ Frodo said candidly, ‘and then I thought I’d take a turn feeding some of it to Freddy. I haven’t had the chance to badger him properly for ages.’

Chapter 13. More than Fast Enough

At Rudi’s insistence Reginard took them to see Ferdibrand’s father, Ferdinand. He lived in the depths of the Great Smials, where the old and infirm stayed, and never left his room.

’It’s late,’ Reginard warned. ‘He might already be abed.’

’We’ll waken him if we have to,’ Rudi said grimly. ‘This is important. We need to find Estella.’ He lowered his voice, glancing at his brother. ‘Fredegar, her brother—‘

’Freddy’s dying,’ Odovacar said quietly. ‘I had hoped to fetch his sister to his side before he leaves us.’

Regi nodded slowly. ‘Pippin told us how it was when they brought him out of the Lockholes,’ he said. They walked in silence the rest of the way, then Reginard said, ‘Here we are.’

He knocked upon the door, and an old auntie answered, opening the door and speaking softly. ‘Yes?’ she said. ‘What is it? Do you know how late it is? Late supper is over and done and Ferdinand’s abed.’

’These hobbits need to speak with him on an urgent matter,’ Reginard said. ‘Tell him his brother-in-love Odovacar is here.’

’Just a moment,’ the old auntie said, closing the door in their faces. A little more than a moment later the door opened again. ‘He’ll see you,’ she said, swinging the door open wider and leading them past the little hearth with its large, comfortable chair to the bedroom beyond. This room was dimly lit and Ferdinand was in shadow, propped up on the bed.

’What is it?’ he said bad-temperedly. ‘Why do you disturb my rest?’

In his mind’s eye Odovacar saw the dashing young Took who’d wooed and won his sister, Stelliana, even as Odo had wooed Ferdinand’s sister Rosamunda. The four had spent hours together, walking, riding, picnicking, picking flowers, dancing in the sunlight, splashing in the shallows near Budge Ford, fishing in the Tuckbourne, lying on their backs on the grass making up stories about the clouds or watching the stars wheel overhead.

The Ferdinand whom Odovacar had known and loved as a brother had vanished forever in the terrible fire years ago that had taken his stables, his ponies, his fortune, and his arms and legs. In addition his brother Ferdibrand, for whom his son was named, had perished in that fire, and his wife had lost her wits after watching the burning stables collapse upon them. She died raving not long after. All that was left of him was a broken, bitter hobbit, living on the charity of the Thain. He saw almost no one excepting his son and now his son was dying, struck down by a ruffian’s club.

’Ferdi spent every evening with you when he was here in the Smials,’ Odo said.

’He did, that, though he doesn’t any more,’ Ferdinand gritted. ‘The ruffians have seen to that.’

’He was to have brought my daughter to Tookland,’ Odo said. Ferdinand was silent. Odo tried again. ‘My Freddy took Estella to Rosemary’s house...’

’I don’t know what you mean,’ Ferdinand said.

’Your daughter—‘ Odo tried again.

’I have no daughter,’ Ferdinand said implacably.

’Ferdi was to have taken Estella from Rosemary’s house,’ Odo said desperately. ‘He was to have brought her to safety in Tookland. Now we find he did not bring her to Tuckborough. Did he ever mention anything to you about the matter?’

Ferdinand laughed, a terrible sound. ‘So you’ve lost your daughter as well,’ he said. ‘There seems to be a lot of that going around.’

’Did he say anything about Estella to you?’ Odo pressed.

Ferdinand stopped laughing and sat in silence. ‘I know what it is to lose a daughter,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, Odo. I cannot help you.’

’Did Ferdi--?’ Odo said.

’He said nothing of Estella to me,’ Ferdinand said heavily. ‘He always talked of pleasant things: the sunshine on the daisies, the cold, clear water of a spring bubbling from a hillside, the whisper of wind in the leaves. He never talked of his forays outside of Tookland, and I never asked. I’m sorry,’ he said again, and in the shadows they saw him turn his face away. ‘Leave me,’ he added. ‘I have no more words for you.’

’Come now,’ the old auntie said, finality in her tone. They went.

Outside Ferdinand’s rooms, Odo said, ‘May I see Ferdibrand?’

’What good would that do?’ Reginard said.

’No good at all, probably,’ Odo answered, and waited.

Reginard nodded to himself. At least Odo would know he’d followed every possible branch of the trail. ‘I’ll take you to him,’ he said. ‘Just don’t expect anything.’

’I don’t,’ Odo said. The Bolgers followed Reginard down several twists and turns, stopping at last at a door that stood partially open. Reginard rapped softly.

’Enter,’ was heard from within.

Reginard pushed the door open and the Bolgers entered. Pimpernel, daughter of Thain Paladin, rose from one of the chairs next to the bed; Reginard’s brother Everard occupied the other chair.

’Odovacar,’ Pimpernel said with a courtesy.

’I came to pay my respects to my nephew,’ Odo said. He crossed to the bed, looking down. The hobbit could have been anyone, head and half his face swathed in bandages, the visible part bruised and swollen. His left shoulder was heavily bandaged, the arm bandaged and splinted. He took up the limp right hand. ‘Would you leave us a moment, please?’

Startled, Pimpernel looked to Reginard. ‘Come, Nell,’ he said. ‘You’ll be all the better for a cup of tea. Rudi, why don’t you and Ev’ard escort Pimpernel to the second parlour? I’ll have some tea sent to you there.’

’It has been a long time, cousin,’ Rudivacar said, offering Pimpernel his arm and smiling into her eyes. She took his arm and answered politely, and the door closed behind them.

Odovacar sank into the chair by the bed, still holding Ferdibrand’s hand. ‘Ferdi?’ he said softly. ‘Ferdi, do you hear me? It is your Uncle Odo.’ There was no response or sign that Ferdi was aware of his presence. Odo bowed his head a moment and then raised it again. ‘Ferdi, where is Estella?’ he whispered. ‘Where is my daughter?’ He squeezed the limp hand, but there was no answering squeeze.

He thought of the irony in the situation. He and Ferdinand Took had been closer than brothers. Now it seemed both had lost their daughters (though Ferdinand could reclaim his, if he would only soften his stiff neck), and both were about to lose their sons.

How could he take this news back to Rosamunda? How could he go back, empty-handed, to Freddy? How, for that matter, could he sit and watch his son slip away?

’Ferdi,’ he said again. The fingers twitched in his own and he leaned forward.

’Twig,’ Ferdi whispered, and was silent once more.

***

’Twig!’ Merry reined in his pony at the anguished scream. He saw a small figure burst from the woods ahead of him, pursued by another twice its size, rapidly gaining, murder and rage in every line. Merry leaned forward, drawing his sword as he urged Bright Nose to the pony’s fastest pace.

The runners did not see him coming up behind them, intent as they were on their deadly race. He swung and the ruffian fell, just as his fingers had grasped at the fleeing hobbit lad’s shirt.

’Twig!’ the call came again from the wood, now behind them. The hobbit lad collapsed, sucking in air, as Merry jumped down from the saddle.

’Are you all right, lad?’ he asked.

The lad nodded, beyond speech for the moment. Soon another hobbit lad reached them, gasping.

’I thought you were dead!’ he said. ‘I thought he’d have you for sure!’

’What happened?’ Merry asked.

’Thank you, sir, thank you,’ the second hobbit lad gasped. ‘You saved my cousin for certain!’ He gulped down air, and was finally able to answer. ‘We were gathering nuts,’ he said, ‘when that ruffian came from nowhere and grabbed me round the neck.’ He added indignantly, ‘I couldn’t breathe! Why would he do such a thing?’

He slapped Twig, still bowed and straining for breath, on the back. ‘Twig here threw a stone at him, struck him fair in the nose! He dropped me and took out after Twig, and I thought he was a goner...’

’I thought I was a goner, too,’ Twig gasped, then straightened and held out a grimy hand. ‘My thanks to you, sir,’ he said. ‘I take it you’re one of the knights who’s driven the ruffians from the Shire.’

There was a touch of irony in the husky young voice, and Merry glanced at him sharply. ‘We are still driving them from the Shire, you mean,’ he said. ‘And you lads ought to stay close to home until we’ve finished the job.’

’You can be sure of that,’ Twig’s cousin said with a definite nod.

’Come on,’ Merry said. ‘I’ll take you home.’ He climbed up on Bright Nose again and lifted one lad to sit before him, the other to sit behind, and let them direct him to the farmstead with its cosy hobbit hole dug into the Green Hills.

He left them off with a warning to Twig's aunt to keep the lads close at home, and keep a bow handy. Recovered from their fright, the lads waved jauntily at him as he took his leave, Twig’s grin reminding him of a young Fredegar Bolger. That shouldn’t surprise him, Freddy was half Took, after all.

With a last wave, he turned his pony around and kneed him into a fast pace, to catch Pippin and his troop of archers who’d left the Smials at first light this morning.

(’You’re late,’ Reginard Took had said as Merry rode up when it was nearly elevenses. ‘Grab a bite to eat. Pip’s already gone, down the Stock Road towards Woody End. He said you could catch him if your pony’s fast enough.’)

Merry grinned, caressing his pony’s neck. ‘He’s more than fast enough,’ he said.

Chapter 14. Pouncing on Fredegar

By the time Anise Grubb returned to the Cotton Farm just before sunrise, they’d managed to get several teacups’ worth of good food—apple compote, custard, and lightly scrambled eggs with minced bacon mixed in—into Fredegar. She pronounced herself satisfied, told them to keep up the good work, and promised to return later that day. Rosamunda arose from her bed, all the better for the rest, and was able to greet her son with a smile and some breakfast.

’Are you tiring of milk toast, my love?’ she asked fondly. Freddy closed his eyes in exasperation and his mother chuckled. ‘Yes, dearie,’ she said. ‘We are feeding you again, so you might as well eat it up quickly, if you want time to rest between feedings.’

When he’d finished, she stroked his hair back from his forehead. ‘You’re as shaggy as a sheep in the springtime,’ she murmured, and he winced, his look turning inwards again. ‘Don’t go away like that, Freddy-lad,’ she said sharply. ‘Freddy!’

’What’s wrong, cousin Rosa?’ Frodo said, entering the room with a tray. Putting the tray down, he proceeded to pour out tea for the two of them.

’He’s gone off again,’ Rosamunda said. ‘I mentioned him needing a haircut and he went away. I cannot seem to bring him back.’

’At least he won’t wriggle when you cut his hair,’ Frodo said practically. ‘Do you remember the time I visited, and Estella awakened before the rest of the household and gave Freddy and me haircuts as we slept?’ He’d worn a cap for days afterward, refusing to take it off even when chided for rudeness by old Master Rorimac.

He poked Freddy. ‘Freddy, you do remember Estella’s skill with shears, do you not?’ Freddy moved irritably, but at least he was attending to the conversation. Frodo and Rosamunda sat quietly conversing until Mistress Cotton appeared with a covered cup.

’Here we are!’ she carolled, ‘Lovely coddled eggs mixed up with a bit of buttered toast.’

Frodo poked Freddy again. ‘Wakey, wakey!’ he said cheerily. ‘That’s what Pippin always says when he wants to annoy me.’

’It’s a traditional phrase amongst the Tooks,’ Rosamunda said dryly.

’Leave me be,’ Freddy whispered, turning his face away.

’Well,’ Frodo said, raising his eyebrows. ‘We got three words out of him that time. I think he’s improving!’ He reached for cup and spoon. ‘If I may, Mrs Cotton...’

’Be my guest,’ Mrs Cotton smiled, handing him the cup. ‘I’ve a cock-a-leekie soup wanting my attention at the moment!’ She nodded to Rosamunda and left the room.

’All right, cousin,’ Frodo said. ‘You’ve a name to regain and a reputation to live up to. Where would the gossips of the Shire be without a “Fatty Bolger” to toast with their teacups, eh? Just think, you haven’t sent Merry a waggonload of apples in months!’

Rosamunda smiled at Frodo’s nonsense, even as he badgered and bullied Freddy into eating the entire cupful of food.

So it went through the day. When Odovacar returned from Tuckborough at teatime, he was surprised to see his son taking solid food, even if it required patient coaxing on Samwise’s part.

’Come, Master Freddy,’ the gardener said. ‘My old gaffer grew these potatoes himself, and Rosie has done them to a turn, I’ll have you know. Don’t you let them go to waste!’ He looked up and rose hastily. ‘Good day, Mr Bolger,’ he said formally.

Odo waved him back to his chair. ‘Sit down; it looks as if you’re doing a fine job.’

Sam sat back down and brought another spoonful of creamy potatoes mixed with melting cheese to Freddy’s mouth. ‘He’s doing all the work, sir,’ he said. And hard work he is making of it, he added to himself. He acts as if we’re tormenting him with each mouthful.

Rosamunda entered with a kiss for her husband. ‘Where’s Estella?’ she asked.

He returned the kiss, then put his arm around her. He’d had a long ride from Tuckborough to decide exactly what he was going to say in Fredegar's presence. ‘The Tooks have put her away for safekeeping,’ he said, ‘and with ruffians still to be found in the Shire, they’re a bit too busy to fetch her back again.’

’More pity the Tooks,’ Frodo said, coming in. ‘I don’t know what’s worse, a few score of ruffians to hunt down, or Estella set amongst them like a cat amongst the pigeons.’

’What in the world do you mean?’ Rosamunda asked, and Frodo laughed.

’She likes to pounce on people,’ he said simply. ‘Take it from me, I’ve been pounced upon plenty!’ The Bolgers laughed, remembering notable occasions, and even Freddy smiled faintly, a fact that did not escape Frodo’s notice.

’Just as well the Tooks are sitting on her somewhere,’ he continued. ‘Were she here, she’d probably bounce Freddy right out of the bed and into mischief.’

’No doubt,’ Freddy whispered, and his parents exchanged hopeful glances.

’You’re looking much better than when last I saw you, son,’ Odo said. ‘I think we’ll stay here a few days at the Cottons’ if you don’t mind.’

’I don’t mind,’ Freddy answered, his voice growing stronger, ‘if only they’d leave off stuffing my face every hour of the day.’ He sounded more the old Freddy, in tone if not in words, and Frodo felt a tightness ease inside of himself.

’That’ll continue until you’re back on your feet, so you might as well set your mind to making a quick recovery,’ Frodo said with a mock scowl, hands on his hips.

’Just one more bite,’ Samwise broke in, hefting the spoon. Freddy reached for it with his right hand, noticing the bandages as if for the first time. ‘Let me, Mr Freddy,’ Sam said, popping the spoon into Fredegar’s mouth.

Freddy chewed and swallowed. ‘What mischief have I done to my hand?’ he asked.

’You’ve broken some fingers,’ Frodo answered. ‘Don’t you remember?’

Freddy furrowed his brow. ‘No,’ he admitted. ‘Everything seems to be foggy at the moment.’

’It’ll all come clear to you in time,’ Frodo said. He shook his head slightly at Odo and Rosa. Now is not the time. They nodded at the tacit warning and Rosamunda sat down, taking Freddy’s left hand in her own, directing the conversation to safer matters.

The healer was very happy to find Freddy lucid and no longer refusing food, though he still did not ask for anything, being content to be fed whatever they brought him. He meekly accepted each spoonful without enthusiasm, but at least he was eating.

’Why should I ask for anything?’ he said to Frodo after Anise Grubb had taken her leave. ‘You’re just going to bring me more in an hour or so anyhow.’

’Right you are, cousin!’ Frodo said, patting Freddy’s good hand. ‘Right you are, at that!’ He stretched and yawned. ‘Well I think I will take myself off for another nap!’ he said. ‘This business of being a new father is exhausting, what with being up all hours of the night to feed the babe, and all!’

’Waaah,’ Freddy said, in creditable imitation of a newborn, and Frodo laughed.

’You sound as if you’re nearly back to yourself,’ he said approvingly.

’I am,’ Freddy retorted, ‘so why don’t the lot of you stop badgering me and let me get some rest?’

’Hah,’ Frodo said. ‘Your problem is that you haven’t had enough badgering lately, and so we are going to badger you until you’re all recovered and fat as you ever were, or my name isn’t Frodo Baggins!’

’It’s not,’ Freddy said.

’Eh? What was that?’ Frodo asked, confused.

’It’s “Mayor Frodo”, and don’t you forget it,’ Freddy said.

’You did hear me and Merry talking last night!’ Frodo said. ‘I thought you were asleep!’

’How a body could sleep with the two of you jabbering away, I’d like to know,’ Freddy grumbled.

’You may call me “Deputy Mayor Frodo”, or “Deputy Mayor”, or simply “Your Excellancy” will do,’ Frodo said with dignity.

’Just don’t call him late to supper,’ Sam said, and Freddy looked at him in astonishment. He couldn’t recall ever hearing Sam put together an entire sentence before, without stammering and blushing.

’Are you the same Samwise Gamgee who gardens up at Bag End?’ he said.

’That I am,’ Sam said calmly.

’He’s grown a bit,’ Frodo said. ‘After killing a nasty spider on our journeys, there’s not much that can cow our Samwise.’

’A nasty spider, eh?’ Freddy said. ‘Next time I find one on the wall, I’ll know whom to call upon to deliver me from my peril.’

’You do that, Mr Freddy,’ Sam said equably. ‘I’d be happy to pull a few weeds whilst I’m at it.’

’Always ready to be of service, our Sammy is,’ Freddy said. He sighed. ‘I think I’ll take myself a nap, as well,’ he said. Rosamunda obligingly pulled several pillows out from behind him so that he could lie down and snuggle into the cushions on the bed.

’You do that,’ Frodo echoed, patting him on the shoulder. He rose and gave Rosamunda a kiss on the cheek. ‘I’ll be up for the midnight feeding,’ he said. ‘You can count on me.’

He chuckled as he left the room, hearing Freddy’s ‘One, two, three, four...’ behind him.

Chapter 15. Another Pause

'Hurrah!' young Frodo-lad cheered. 'Mr Freddy is on the mend!'

'But what of Estella? When will her family get her back?' little Rose wanted to know.

'I think it would be fun to be a boy,' Lily mused.

'Lily!' Her mother laughed in shocked amusement. The thought had sometimes crossed Elanor's mind, to be truthful, when cumbersome skirts and dusting had frustrated her, whilst her brothers worked in the fresh air out of doors. Of course, she would never admit as much to her daughters, not until they were joyful mothers with their own brood and understood how fine it was to be a girl after all.

'Is the story nearly over?' Elfstan wanted to know.

'Not for quite awhile,' Samwise said, 'but that's enough for tonight. Why, your mum might put me on water rations if I read into the wee hours again, as I did last night!'

'I wish I could eat every hour on the hour,' Tolman grumbled. He was a teen, growing rapidly, and his mother despaired of ever filling him up.

'Off to bed with you now,' Fastred said, knocking out his pipe. 'If you tire your gran-dad too much, he might not be up to reading to you on the morrow, eh, Sam-dad?'

'Gran-dad's never tired!' Frodo-lad shouted.

'I don't know whose gran-dad you're talking about,' Sam said reasonably. 'This one's ready to seek the pillow.' He smiled at the eager faces before him, the future of the Shire. How he'd miss seeing them grow up.

'We'll read on tomorrow, if you get all your chores done in good time without grumbling,' he said.

'It's a promise!' the children chorused, and Elanor laughed.

'Honestly, Dad, I don't know what took you so long!' she said.

'Eh? What's that?' Sam said.

'You ought to have come round here years ago with a big book and a promise. Chores done in good time and no grumbling! 'Tis every mum's dream!'

'Ah, then, sweet dreams, Ellie,' Sam said with a fond smile, ruffling the curls that would not stay confined. 'Sweet dreams, my lass, and I'll see you in the morning.'

As she moved around the parlour to blow out the lamps, he patted the Red Book. 'Good night, Mr Frodo,' he said softly. 'One of these mornings I'll be seeing you.'

'What was that, Dad?' Elanor said, turning from putting the watch-lamp in the window.

'O just talking to myself, lass, naught for you to worry your bright head about,' Sam said, and yawned.

'Ah,' Elanor said wisely. 'I won't trouble my head about it, then, unless you start to answer yourself. Good night, Dad,' she said tenderly, and they went their separate ways.

Chapter 16. Dreams of Home

Two more days passed and Fredegar steadily grew stronger, though the healer still insisted on small, frequent meals. Two waggonloads of Freddy’s rebels stopped at the Cotton farm on the evening of the second day and were joyously welcomed by one and all.

Young Robin was carried in and laid beside Fredegar on the softly cushioned bed. ‘Hullo, Robin,’ he said. ‘How goes the fight?’

’It goes, sir,’ Robin said, ducking his head. ‘Budgie says I’ll be able to stay up on Last Night with the rest of the tweens to watch the old year burn away with the Yule log.’

‘That’s fine news!’ Freddy said. ‘It’ll be good to see the old year go.’

‘It were a rough one, and that’s a fact,’ Stony said. He was much improved, able to walk from the waggon to the door on his own feet, though two of the Cotton lads carried him, one on either side, up the steps. Beechnut and Rory were able to make it up the stairs with only a steadying hand to help them. They gathered together, some in Freddy’s room, some in the kitchen round the big table, and feasted, and if the feast had legs and moved from room to room, no one seemed to mind.

‘It’s too late and too cold to drive to Bridgefields this night,’ Farmer Cotton said, and he would take no protest, but insisted on putting up all of Freddy’s rebels, though the old farmhouse was bursting at the seams.

In the morning, after a fine breakfast cooked by Rosie and Mrs Cotton, Freddy’s rebels took their leave, singing a song for their leader that they’d made up along the way from Michel Delving.

The road is long and the way is steep,
Away, my laddie, on your way home!
I’ve miles to go before I may sleep,
Away, my laddie, home!

But the lamp in the window is shining for me.
The kettle is singing; she’ll be brewing our tea,
And out of the window she’ll be glancing for to see,
Away, her laddie, on his way home!*

‘Home,’ Freddy murmured as the song ended, ‘a lovely word indeed,’ but his eyes were sad. He put on a smile for his rebels and had a hug and a good word for each one as they surrounded him.

‘We’ll see you before the year is out!’ Rocky said, last to leave the room, and Freddy nodded.

‘Before the year is out,’ he echoed, keeping his grin in place until he heard the front door slam behind the last one.

‘You look tired, son,’ Rosamunda said gently. ‘Perhaps this was a bit much for you.’

‘O no,’ Freddy protested. ‘It was wonderful to see them all again, on their feet, and headed…’ he sighed and forced the last word out, ‘...home.’

‘Are you pining for home?’ his mother asked, stroking his forehead as he settled back against the pillows. His answer puzzled her.

‘There’s time yet,’ he said softly. ‘The year’s not out, not for a little while, anyhow.’ He remembered the wizard’s promise. Home in time for Yule.

That afternoon, Pippin breezed in with a cheery greeting. ‘Well, cousin!’ he said. ‘You’re looking much better than you did a few days ago!’

‘I wish I could say the same for you!’ Frodo laughed.

‘I beg your pardon!’ Pippin said.

‘You have it,’ Frodo said, ‘but you’d do better to beg a bath instead!’

‘I’d like to see how you’d look, chasing all over East Farthing after a bunch of scurrilous ruffians!’ Pippin said, his eyes flashing, but Frodo put a hand on his arm.

‘I meant no insult, Pip, really I didn’t. But wouldn’t you feel better after a good soak in a steaming tub?’

‘I might,’ Pippin said, still bristling.

‘Come now,’ Frodo said, tugging at his arm to lead him from the room. ‘It just so happens that I know where there’s a tub going begging. I was about to take a bath myself, but you may have my tub, and I’ll bathe later, if cousin Freddy doesn’t mind putting up with me for a bit longer.’ He talked Pippin down the corridor, and then there was the shutting of a door and silence. Within a few minutes Frodo had returned, sitting down next to Fredegar with a sigh.

‘What’s got into our little cousin, I wonder?’ Freddy said. ‘He’s all prickles and stings!’

‘His father, more than likely. Chances are, he’s done a brilliant job of driving out ruffians thus far, and Paladin’s found him wanting, as usual,’ Frodo said. He leaned forward to look into Freddy’s face. ‘Have you been overdoing?’ he asked. ‘You look tired.’

‘Such a heartening thing to say to a patient,’ Freddy said. ‘Why, I feel weaker already.’

‘I’m sorry, Freddy,’ Frodo said.

Freddy snorted softly. ‘Just don’t go changing from Mayor to healer,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t suit you.’

‘I don’t think “Mayor” suits him either,’ Merry said from the doorway. ‘What all have you done? You’ve been Mayor half a week and I can’t see that you’ve accomplished all that much of anything!’

‘I sent out notices,’ Frodo said calmly.

‘Notices!’ Merry snorted.

‘That’s right,’ Frodo maintained. ‘I’ve discharged most of the Shirriffs, I’ll have you know, sent them packing back to their farms and holes and regular work. We don’t need so many, now that we’ve so few rules again: only the sensible ones that hobbits have always followed.’

‘Well done, cousin!’ Freddy said, applauding by slapping his knee with his good hand.

‘So what else are you going to do, your Mayorship?’ Merry wanted to know.

‘Nothing,’ Frodo said.

‘Nothing!’ Merry cried in astonishment.

‘I firmly believe in letting well enough alone,’ Frodo said. ‘Once the ruffians are out, all we need is Bounders to make sure they stay out. Inside the Shire, what do we need Shirriffs for? ...except perhaps to round up stray animals, for the most part.’

‘Just the way it’s always been,’ Rosamunda said thoughtfully.

‘It’s always worked in the past,’ Frodo said. ‘Lotho may have had a lot of new ideas, but I don’t think he thought them through. And I think he was influenced too much by the thoughts of Men.’

‘Yes,’ Merry said soberly. ‘We’d do well to avoid their influence.’

‘I’d agree to that,’ Freddy said fervently. Merry looked at him intently.

‘You look tired, cousin, though better than you did when we left.’

Freddy threw up his hands. ‘I must be tired, then,’ he said. ‘Everyone who is anyone has told me so.’

‘Then take a nap,’ Rosamunda said.

‘And I shall take a bath,’ Merry announced.

Frodo chuckled. ‘I wasn’t going to say anything,’ he said, ‘especially after I offended Pippin, but—‘

‘Offend away, cousin!’ Merry said cheerily. ‘Pip’s had his nose out of joint all the way back to Bywater.’

‘Why?’ Frodo asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Merry answered. ‘Something Paladin said, undoubtedly.’

‘If you’d take yourself off to your bath, Merry, tired hobbits might be able to get some sleep around here,’ Freddy said pointedly.

‘Don’t let me keep you awake!’ Merry protested. ‘Sleep well, cousin, and I will hope to see you when we’re both fresher.’ He blew a kiss to Rosamunda and left the room.

Rosamunda plumped Freddy’s pillows and pulled the covers up under his chin. ‘There you are,’ she said. ‘We’ll leave you for a little, my love.’

‘Thank you,’ Freddy said, closing his eyes and stretching beneath the covers. Soon he was half-asleep, and thinking ...of home. He wondered if the end would come immediately, or if he’d have time to see his friends and his old haunts before the burial. He wondered where Estella was and wished he might see her one more time, just to be able to bid her goodbye.

***

Pippin bounced in after his bath, wakening Freddy from an unsettling dream. ‘O I’m sorry!’ he apologised. ‘I didn’t realise...’

‘Not at all, cousin, I was glad to waken,’ Freddy said honestly. ‘Have a seat, tell me what’s what.’

Pippin sat down, stretching out his long legs, and proceeded to tell about their sweep through Woody End, meeting up with hobbits from the Marish and Buckland. ‘We’ve much territory to cover yet,’ he said critically, ‘but the ruffians are on the run.’

‘Good to hear,’ Freddy said.

Frodo entered with a tray, settling it in Freddy’s lap. ‘We have here some of Mrs Cotton’s lovely chicken and dumplings,’ he said, ‘and you are to eat every bite!’

‘How about me?’ Pippin asked indignantly. ‘What does a hobbit have to do to get a meal around here?’

‘You might trade places with me,’ Freddy said. ‘I’d welcome driving off ruffians for a change.’

‘Hah!’ Pippin said. ‘I’d like to see someone try to stick me in a bed!’ He sniffed. ‘Still,’ he added reflectively. ‘A hobbit might starve to death, waiting for someone to notice he’s hungry.’

‘Exquisite torture,’ Freddy murmured in a faraway voice. ‘Most suited to hobbits.’

‘What was that, cousin?’ Frodo said, stricken by the look on Freddy’s face. When Freddy didn’t answer, he pressed, ‘Freddy? Fredegar, are you all right?’

‘Quite well,’ Freddy said, coming back to the present. He looked down at the tray. ‘Really, Frodo, I don’t know what you folk are thinking of, giving me all this. I just ate an hour ago, you know, and I don’t think I could eat another bite.’ He pushed the tray towards Pippin. ‘Here, cousin, take it, please.’

‘I—I couldn’t,’ Pippin protested, clearly uncomfortable.

‘Really, Pip, lend me your aid,’ Freddy said. ‘Make the food disappear before my mother comes back and stuffs it into me. If I eat any more I’ll burst!’

‘Freddy...’ Frodo began.

‘Don’t you start, Frodo,’ Freddy said. ‘You know I’ve been good. I’ve eaten every scrap they’ve fed me for the past three days. Haven’t I earned a rest?’

‘Well,’ Frodo said, clearly wavering.

‘Besides,’ Freddy said. ‘I don’t think I could eat another bite to save my life!’

‘It smells awfully good,’ Pippin said wistfully.

‘Take it, cousin,’ Freddy said persuasively, shoving the tray further in Pippin’s direction, so that he had to catch it or else let it fall onto the floor. ‘They’ll only be feeding me again in an hour as it is.’

‘When you put it that way...’ Pippin said, looking to Frodo for tacit permission.

Frodo gave in, laughing. ‘Honestly, Freddy,’ he said. ‘However are we going to fatten you up in time to take you home?’

‘Home,’ Freddy said softly. ‘I don’t think you have to fatten me up, Frodo. Haven’t you heard? I’m to be home in time for Yule.’

‘That’s what I’d heard,’ Pippin said through a full mouth.

‘Home,’ Freddy said again, and sighed. Frodo gave him an odd look, but said no more for the nonce.

*For the music to this song, click here or copy and paste the following link into your browser: http://www.classicalfree.org/music/home.mid

Please note that this music is protected by copyright law.

Chapter 17. Lancing the Boil

’Whatever’s the matter with Pippin?’ Rosamunda said, entering the room where Frodo and Merry were keeping company with Freddy as he ate his breakfast. He was getting better at plying a fork or spoon with his left hand. ‘He must have got up in a badger hole rather than a hobbit hole this morn.’ A little bit of Tookish lilt had returned to her voice in her irritation with the tween.

’A little Paladin goes a long way,’ Merry said with a significant nod to Frodo.

’He’s still on about that?’ Freddy said. ‘You told me he had a brief interview with old Paladin yesterday.’

’Not brief enough,’ Merry said. ‘He’d been planning to look in on Ferdi, but when he came from the Thain’s study, all he said was, “Let’s go!” in just that tone. I thought he’d bite my head off!’

’He’s angry,’ Rosamunda said slowly, and Frodo was caught by the intensity of her voice. She looked up to see his quizzical expression. ‘Angry,’ she repeated, ‘not just angered.’

’How unhobbity it all sounds,’ Freddy said lightly, but his mother frowned at him and he subsided.

’No, he’s right,’ Merry put in, putting his hand on Rosamunda’s arm. ‘That’s exactly what’s been bothering me.’ He locked eyes with Frodo. ‘That’s the kind of thing we’re trying to throw out of the Shire.’

’Paladin’s angry,’ Rosamunda said. ‘The Tooks put up with him because he’s managed to bring order out of the shambles old Ferumbras left, as well as keeping the ruffians out of Tookland.’

’An angry hobbit,’ Freddy said, and shook his head. ‘I hate to see Pippin going down the same trail his father’s on.’

’He won’t, if I’ve anything to say about it,’ Frodo said. As head of the Baggins family, his word carried some weight with the Thain. ‘We’ve managed to shield the lad up until now, what with long visits and having him bounce from hole to hole.’

’That’ll get harder when he comes of age and takes up his responsibilities full-time,’ Merry said soberly. He was thinking of his own responsibilities back in Buckland. Soon the ruffians would be gone and it would be time to go back to being a “regular hobbit” once more. Was such a thing possible?

’You said, “he was planning to look in on Ferdi,” did you not?’ Rosamunda said suddenly. ‘My nephew is still lingering?’ Her expression was grieved. Odo had given her to think that Ferdi was on his last gasp.

’Better than lingering,’ Merry said, his face brightening. ‘He’s holding his own, or better! He opened his eyes yesterday, and took a little broth, or so we were told before Pip was summoned by his father.’

’That is good news! I must tell Odo!’ Rosemary said, rising from her chair. Perhaps there would be a chance to find Estella, after all. Freddy, of course, did not know his sister had been lost. No, "lost" was not the word—misplaced, rather. Odo watched his words in Freddy’s presence to keep the lad from worry, but he had filled his wife in on everything that had happened at the Great Smials. They had puzzled together over the word “Twig”. What could it mean? Odo meant to ask Freddy when he was stronger, but of course, that meant telling him that Estella had been... misplaced.

’Speaking of broth,’ Frodo said, tapping Freddy’s tray.

’O I had hoped nobody’d notice,’ Freddy said lightly, but he sighed as he plied his spoon.

’Would you like something other than porridge, my dear?’ Rosamunda said solicitously, hovering in the doorway.

’Porridge is fine, Mother,’ Freddy said. ‘It’s as good as anything else, and Mrs Cotton’s porridge is better than most.’

’It’s the touch of Rosie Cotton’s deft hand,’ Merry said, sighing in a lovelorn manner. ‘I swear I am going to marry that girl someday.’

’You don’t need to practice on us,’ Frodo said with a touch of irritation. ‘Samwise is over at Bag End, supervising the clearing out.’

’I must keep in practice if ever that lad is to be goaded into speaking to Miss Rose,’ Merry defended. He struck a thoughtful pose, eyes seeking the ceiling while his fingers stroked his chin. ‘On the other hand...’ he said. ‘She is an awfully good cook, and pretty in the bargain...’ Everyone laughed and he grinned. He had taken on as his next campaign securing the nuptials of Samwise and Rosie, to Sam’s discomfort and Rosie’s delight. Hints had not had any evident impact, but he thought he was making progress with his new idea of acting smitten with Rose’s charms.

’Post!’ Mrs Cotton sang out, waving a letter in her hand. ‘Mr Merry, it’s for you!’

’Post!’ Merry said in astonishment. ‘Frodo, I thought that all you’d done as Mayor was reduce the number of Shirriffs to what it ought to be.’

’That is all I’ve done,’ Frodo said smugly. ‘You know hobbits. They talk incessantly, they love gossip and exchanging news. They’ve been terribly frustrated the past year, with the ruffians and all. It didn’t take long for the post to reinstate itself with no help from me!’

’It helps that more than half the discharged Shirriffs were messengers before Lotho put them on to shirriffing,’ Freddy said dryly.

’Ah, that’s right!’ Merry said. ‘Mystery solved. You told me yourself you’d discharged the extra Shirriffs and sent them back to their old occupations.’

Frodo bowed, but frowned a moment later when Freddy said, ‘Perhaps you really ought to go for Mayor, cousin; you seem to be doing an exemplary job.’

’Bite your tongue,’ Frodo said. ‘I am going quietly into retirement and write a book.’

’I’ll believe it when I see it!’ Freddy said. ‘You, quiet? Retiring? Inconceivable! Not the Frodo Baggins who had so much excess energy he was always taking long walks about the Shire and meeting all sorts of odd folk... Can you even sit down long enough to pen a title page?’

’You’d be surprised, Freddy,’ Frodo said. ‘I’ve already made all sorts of notes.’

’When?’ Freddy said, but Frodo only laughed.

’He’s got to write down our adventures, after all,’ Merry said, ‘though no hobbit will ever believe them, much less read them.’

’Try me,’ Freddy said. ‘I’d welcome the diversion. Do you know how hard it is to lie in a bed, day in and day out, with nothing to do but stuff my face?’

’You’ll be out of that bed before you know it!’ Merry said. ‘Why, I heard you’ll be home for Yule!’

Frodo, watching Freddy’s face intently, suddenly said, ‘Merry, I’m perishing for a cup of tea. Could you fetch us a pot? Bring a cup for yourself if you like.’

’Is it safe to go into the kitchen?’ Merry laughed. ‘Last I heard there was a dragon named Pippin there.’

’That was all of ten minutes ago,’ Frodo replied. ‘Have you ever known him to stay in one place so long?’

’No, you have the right of it,’ Merry said. ‘He must have gone out to take the air, for he hasn’t returned to this part of the house. I’ll go and chance it, but if I do not return, send out a search party.’

’If you’ve been et by a dragon there’s not much point in sending out search parties,’ Freddy said practically. Merry pulled a comical face and went out the door.

’Freddy...’ Frodo said slowly.

’Eh? What’s that, cousin? Got something on your mind?’ Freddy said, dutifully lifting another spoonful of porridge. ‘Just come to Old Uncle Fredegar, he’ll set you right.’

’What is it about “home” that worries you?’ Frodo asked, watching Freddy’s face.

’I don’t take your meaning,’ Freddy said lightly, but Frodo, eyes intent, nodded slowly.

’I think you do,’ he said. ‘There’s something... whenever anyone mentions your going home, you... I do not know how to describe it.’

’Then you’re likely imagining it,’ Freddy replied, taking another bite.

’What are you worried about?’ Frodo asked. ‘If it’s the re-setting of your fingers...’

’Re-setting my fingers!’ Freddy cried in horror, dropping the spoon and cradling his right hand protectively with his left. ‘You mean they’re to be re-broken?’

’I’m sorry, cousin, you didn’t know?’ Frodo said, kicking himself. He’d been so sure...

’Nobody told me anything about it,’ Freddy said furiously. ‘I thought they were healing from some injury, was all.’ He took a few deep breaths, calming himself. ‘What happened to them, anyhow?’

’You don’t remember?’ Frodo said quietly.

’No,’ Freddy said after a moment. ‘I do not.’

’I was told it was a game of the Ruffians, the Question Game, someone called it.’

’Question Game...’ Freddy mused, his face blank.

’They’d ask a question, and if you didn’t answer the way they liked...’ Frodo prompted. He was on thin ice, but there were too many buried secrets, he suspected, eating away at Fredegar. Sometimes you had to cut away to reach an infection, to allow the poison to drain from the wound. He’d had a bit of experience with that, himself.

Dawning realisation was replaced with sick horror on Freddy’s countenance. ‘I do remember,’ he whispered. ‘Curse you, Frodo Baggins, for bringing it to mind!’

Merry stood in the doorway, stricken, holding the tea tray in his hands. Frodo looked up and shook his head slightly, and Merry stumbled back towards the kitchen. ‘They wanted something to go with the tea,’ he said to Mrs Cotton, trying to steady his voice. ‘Would it be too much trouble to stir up some scones?’

’No trouble at all!’ Mrs Cotton said, well-pleased. ‘I’m glad to hear that lad is getting some of his appetite back!’

Back in the room, Freddy was weeping, and Frodo was holding him. ‘It’s all right now, Freddy,’ he soothed. ‘It’ll be all right.’

’I cannot fight them,’ Freddy sobbed. ‘They’re too strong, and it’s not just me they’re hurting.’

’They’re gone,’ Frodo said. ‘They cannot hurt you any more.’ His arms tightened about his younger cousin as he rocked slowly back and forth.

’No!’ Freddy gasped. ‘They’re still in my head! I hear their voices, mocking, and that wizard...’ He fell silent suddenly, gulping back his sobs, and Frodo felt him stiffen.

’What is it, Freddy?’ he asked softly, feeling his way delicately, as if he were in a bog and one false step would take his cousin away from him forever.

’Why don’t they just let me die and get it over with?’ Freddy moaned against his shoulder. ‘I’m so tired, Frodo,’ he added, going limp again. ‘So tired.’

’I know,’ Frodo said, ‘but dying isn’t the answer, Freddy.’ He continued to hold his cousin close, his own heart grieving with each shuddering sob that he heard and felt. When Freddy calmed again, he ventured to say, ‘You’ll be going home soon, and...’ but that was not the right thing to say at all, he discovered. Freddy stiffened again, and then laid his head down on Frodo’s shoulder and sighed.

’What is it, Freddy? Why don’t you want to go home?’ he urged softly.

’Home,’ Freddy said. ‘I’m so tired, I ought to be looking forward to going home,’ he said. ‘Home for Yule, the wizard promised. It’ll be nice and quiet.’

Somehow the words sounded ominous to Frodo rather than comforting. ‘Nice and quiet,’ he prompted.

’It’s quiet in the grave,’ Freddy said softly. ‘No one to bother or badger, no memories to haunt you. Just sleep, forever to sleep, and no dreams to disturb.’

Frodo’s arms tightened about Freddy as he sat in silent shock. He looked up to see Merry hovering once again with the tea tray, and shook his head again.

With a sigh, Merry took himself off to the kitchen. ‘Seems they’re getting fussy,’ he said. ‘They didn’t want scones at all, I gather, but crumpets!’

’Well, well,’ Mrs Cotton said, unruffled. ‘I guess you and I had better eat up these scones, then, while they’re still hot, and then I’ll stir up the crumpets.’

’Mrs Cotton, you’re a wonder!’ Merry said with feeling.

’So I’m told,’ she answered dryly, and Merry wondered if she saw through him. Probably, he told himself. He sat down and consoled himself with the fact that she made the best scones he’d ever tasted.

Back in the bedroom, Frodo had been thinking furiously. Finally, he asked, ‘What makes you think you’re dying? The healers have all been very encouraging...’

’The wizard said...’ Freddy said and stopped, and Frodo began to understand.

’Saruman,’ he whispered. ‘His Voice. O Freddy, he had no power at the end save his Voice, for those who would believe it! You must not believe it, cousin, you must put it away. He told you lies!’

’Lies?’ Freddy said, sounding bewildered. Frodo held him tight.

’Lies!’ he said firmly. ‘Everything he said to you was a lie, you must believe that, cousin!’

’I’m not going home to die?’ Freddy asked, as simply as a little child.

Frodo laughed through his tears. ‘No!’ he shouted, ‘not at all! You’re going home to celebrate the advent of a new year, a new beginning, new hope and new life!’

’I am?’ Freddy asked.

’Indeed you are, Fredegar, or my name isn’t Frodo Baggins!’ Frodo said fervently, ‘Or Deputy Mayor Frodo, or simply “Your Excellency”, if you like.’ He felt Freddy stop shaking, and held him a little longer before putting him back to look into his face.

’Better?’ he asked softly.

’I feel a whole new hobbit,’ Freddy said slowly. He took several deep breaths, and finally, spoke again. ‘Did you say Merry was bringing us some tea?’

Chapter 18. Of Gossip and Gardeners

Samwise returned from Bag End shortly before supper. He was more silent than usual, pushing Mrs Cotton’s good stew around his plate without eating much of it, lost in his thoughts. He didn’t even seem to notice Merry sweet-talking Rosie Cotton, making her laugh and blush.

’What is the matter, Sam?’ Frodo asked at last.

’O Mr Frodo,’ Sam said, starting and looking up. ‘Naught,’ he said. ‘Nothing’s wrong.’

 ‘You could have fooled me,’ Pippin said. ‘You’ve a face as long as a rainy day, Samwise.’

Now that everyone was looking at him, Sam felt even more tongue-tied, but he did his best to answer.

’We got all those sheds that were blocking the windows at Bag End pulled down,’ he said, ‘but p’rhaps we ought to have left them standing.’

’Whatever do you mean, Sam?’ Frodo asked, puzzled.

’With the light coming in the windows, dirty as they are, the smial looks even worse,’ Sam said miserably. ‘I’m afraid it’ll be quite awhile before the place is habitable... if we can manage to get the smell out at all, that is.’

’Perhaps you oughtn’t to let Lobelia give it back to you, Frodo,’ Merry said lightly, but Sam didn’t smile.

’Don’t worry, Samwise,’ Farmer Cotton said with sudden insight. ‘Your master isn’t going to be thrown out in the cold, after all. I’ve already told him he’s welcome to stay as long as he wishes.’

Sam brightened. ‘Is that right, Mr Frodo?’ he said.

’And that goes for yourself as well, Master Samwise,’ the good farmer added. ‘There’ll be a pillow for your head and a place at table until you find your own place again. I’m afraid your old gaffer and Marigold don’t have any room for you at present.’

’We’ll build the Gamgees a new hobbit hole, better than the old one!’ Frodo said. ‘Why, I imagine if that gravel pit were levelled off, ‘twould make a nice sheltered garden. And who’s to say we couldn’t dig more hobbit holes into the Hill?’

’Mr Frodo, you’re a wonder,’ Sam said admiringly.

’That’s why he’s Mayor, you know,’ Merry said smugly.

’Deputy Mayor,’ Frodo corrected.

’Such a stickler for detail, cousin, it’s what makes you a great Mayor,’ Merry said, unruffled. ‘More stew, if you please, Mrs Cotton, and I think I could put away at least another half-dozen slices of that bread your sweet Rosie baked...’

’How about us?’ Pippin broke in. All looked at him questioningly, and he repeated, ‘How about us? Will you take Merry and me in as well?’ Though he wore a grin, Frodo looked at him sharply.

’If’n they ever run out of rooms at the Great Smials or Brandy Hall, we’ll have rooms for you lads,’ Farmer Cotton said, going along with the joke.

’You’ll have to wash dishes for your keep!’ Mrs Cotton said smartly, and everyone laughed.

’I’ll be moving in soon, anyhow,’ Merry said, taking another piece of Rosie’s excellent bread.

’Eh? What’s that, young fellow?’ the good farmer asked.

Merry pretended to duck his head in embarrassment. ‘Er, that is,’ he stammered, ‘as soon as Miss Rose accepts my suit. I’ve asked her twice now to marry me, but she always puts me off.’

’O Mr Merry!’ Rosie said, blushing prettily.

Merry lowered his voice and peered around the table, saying in a conspiratorial tone, ‘You don’t think there’s someone else there before me, do you?’

’Not hardly!’ Pippin guffawed, while Samwise turned a deep red and paid strict attention to his stew.

’Good,’ Merry said, apparently satisfied.

Hearing the laughter from the kitchen, Rosamunda smiled. ‘Soon you’ll be strong enough to get up and join the family at table,’ she said to Fredegar, ‘but only if you eat your supper now!’

’Yes, Mother,’ Freddy said, dutifully plying his fork. He knew now that the wizard’s promise of his parents taking him home to bury him was a lie, and he knew that the ruffians were not about to beat him for taking a forkful of good food, but knowing was not quite enough. He ate up everything on his plate, as he knew he ought, but did not ask for more.

***

The next morning, Merry and Pippin departed once again. ‘We’ve more dragons to slay!’ Pippin carolled as he mounted his pony.

’See if you can throw out a few ruffians whilst you’re at it!’ Frodo called, and Pippin drew his sword and waved it in reply.

’Coming, Merry?’ Pippin said.

’In a moment,’ Merry answered. He stopped before Rose, saying, ‘Ah, Miss Rosie, that breakfast was a delight to the eye and the taste! Will you not change your mind and marry me?’

’What’ll you do if she says yes?’ Frodo laughed.

’Why, marry her, of course!’ Merry answered promptly. Taking Rose’s hand, he bowed over it and said, ‘Well, Rosie? Will you make me the happiest hobbit in the Shire?’

’Go on with ye, now, Master Meriadoc!’ Rose laughed, pulling her hand away. ‘Folk will start to talk, with you going on that way!’

’Let them gossip away!’ Merry said gaily, putting his hand to his heart. His smile faded as he looked tenderly at his fingers. ‘Ah,’ he sighed. ‘The touch of her hand. I shall never wash again.’

’You’re as bad as Freddy ever was!’ Frodo scolded when he could control his laughter.

’Come along, Merry, before we perish of old age!’ Pippin said impatiently, and with a sweeping bow to the Cottons, Merry danced down the steps and vaulted onto his pony without touching the stirrups, a feat that drew much admiration from the Cotton lads.

’It’s a trick he learned in Rohan,’ Frodo said aside to Farmer Cotton. He stretched and said, ‘Well, I’ll go see how Freddy’s doing.’

He found his cousin sleeping, having consumed his own breakfast, with his father by his side.

’How is he this morning?’ Frodo said.

’He’s a little stronger, I think,’ Odovacar replied. ‘We’ll be able to take him home soon, I hope.’

’And a happy homecoming I hope it will be,’ Frodo said fervently.

’What’s that?’ Odo said, eyeing him sharply.

’He thought... what do you know of the Voice of Saruman?’ Frodo asked, instead of answering the question directly.

’Saruman... that was Sharkey’s real name,’ Odo said slowly. ‘I’d heard a rumour that he could make anyone believe anything, and that what he spoke became truth. If he pronounced a curse on a tree, it would wither and die, and the same went for a hobbit.’

’His Voice was all that was left to him after Gandalf broke his staff and cast him out of Orthanc,’ Frodo said.

Odovacar nodded. ‘You’ve told us a little of that tale,’ he said, ‘but I think there is much more to be told.’

’It is a long tale,’ Frodo said. ‘A long tale indeed,’ he added softly, and thought again of the monumental task set before him, of writing it all down lest it be forgotten and lost. Hobbits must know what had happened, what could happen if they lived in ignorant complacency. They must know what had happened, that they might place a true value on the peace and safety that had been hard-won by so many Men and Elves and Dwarves... and hobbits.

’Saruman’s Voice was all that was left to him,’ Frodo said again, ‘but it was powerful for all that. He told Freddy that you’d take him home to die, and Freddy believed him.’

Odovacar sat stunned. ‘Take him home to die?’ he echoed. His hand tightened on Freddy’s.

’It was a lie, like so many of Saruman’s words,’ Frodo said.

’But you said that Freddy believed him,’ Odo replied. ‘Does that—does that mean--?’

’It means you must watch over him very closely,’ Frodo said. ‘Talk to him, get him to talk to you, draw him out.’ He dropped his eyes. ‘It is not my place to tell you how to be a father to your son...’ He was surprised to hear Odovacar chuckle.

’There were a few times that I spoke to Bilbo, though he was more years my senior than I am to you, about how to be a proper “father” to the young Bucklander he took under his wing.’

Frodo digested this information, and suddenly chuckled. ‘It was you!’ he said, pointing an accusing finger.

’What was that?’ Odo asked.

’You were the bedtime stories!’ Frodo said, trying to contain his amusement such that he would not waken Freddy. He saw that Odovacar was mystified, and explained. ‘Bilbo got it into his head that he ought to be tucking me into bed and reading me bedtime stories, and me a tween at the time!’

’Ah,’ Odo said with his own smile, imagining the scene. ‘I guess he mistook my meaning.'

’It all worked out very well,’ Frodo said with a twinkle in his eye. ‘As soon as we got a few things straight, he worked out the bedtime stories... it turned into a glass of brandy in his study, whilst he read to me from his Translations from the Elvish, or told me old tales of heroic deeds.’ He sighed. ‘How I’d love to listen to his voice rolling out the words again.’

’Are you going back to see him?’ Odo asked.

Frodo sighed. ‘Not soon,’ he replied. ‘There’s too much to be done here. I don’t even know, yet, if we can make the Shire what it once was.’ He thought of Elrond’s words. He didn’t see how he could return to Rivendell anytime in the next year, and wasn’t he to look for Bilbo when the leaves began to fall?

’We can do our best,’ Odovacar said, breaking him out of his thoughts.

’Yes, that we can,’ Frodo said.

’After the warriors and hunters finish the task of throwing out the ruffians, it’ll be up to the gardeners,’ Odo said. ‘I’ve been talking a bit to your Samwise,’ he added. ‘He is determined that the Shire will be green again.’

’Then I’m sure it shall be,’ Frodo answered. ‘Sam is a wonder when he sets his mind to something.’

Chapter 19. Hide and Seek

Freddy awakened to the feeling of hands unbuttoning his night-shirt. He stretched sleepily but did not come fully awake, content to lie quietly while gentle fingers probed. His shirt was buttoned again and the examination moved to his extremities. Finally the bedcovers were restored and he heard old Anise Grubb say, ‘Healing nicely, I’m happy to say. There’s no sign of infection.’

Ah. He was getting better. If she’d had bad news she’d have asked for a cup of tea and told his parents in the kitchen, out of his hearing.

’And his fingers?’ Freddy heard his father say.

’Well now he is getting stronger,’ the old healer said slowly. ‘Why don’t we have a cup of tea in the kitchen? That chill outside is trying to settle itself into my bones for certain...’

Frodo said, ‘I’ll watch with him.’ The voices of the others receded and Freddy felt his left hand taken up. Frodo spoke again. ‘Good morning, cousin. I know you’re awake, I saw you twitch just now.’

’Good morning, Frodo,’ Freddy said with a yawn. It was too much trouble to open his eyes, so he didn't. ‘So there is good news and bad news, eh? Most of me is healing, but I’m to lose the use of my hand, it seems. Awkward, that. Too bad the ruffians didn’t damage the left instead.’

’She didn’t say that, not exactly,’ Frodo said.

’How d’you know? You’re not in the kitchen, sipping tea and listening to the bad news,’ Freddy responded.

’We talked yesterday,’ Frodo said. ‘I took myself for a walk to her house and we had a cup of tea and a nice chat.’

’I’m so glad to hear that,’ Freddy said. ‘You’ve had me worried, cooped up here all the day long; you really ought to get out more.’ Frodo squeezed his good hand.

’You’re worried about more than myself,’ he said. ‘You’re worried about your hand, and rightly so. There’s no sign of infection, but the bones have knit twisted and useless.’

’Ah,’ Freddy said. ‘The delightful prospect of re-setting the bones, a little parting gift from the ruffians, just to remember them by. I haven’t forgotten.’

’You’re not quite strong enough, yet,’ Frodo said with another squeeze.

’Mercies come in surprise packages, sometimes,’ Freddy murmured.

’Good morning!’ Rosamunda carolled, entering the room. ‘I have your breakfast, my love! Are you hungry?’

’No,’ Freddy answered honestly, but he opened his eyes to face another day.

***

Twig was bored. It was something to be living the life of someone else, a boy at that, who could do all sorts of things girls weren’t supposed to do. One ought to be jumping for joy at not having to sit sedately and stitch on a stupid sampler, or learn to sit, stand and walk gracefully, or manage long skirts on a sidesaddle when she’d rather just jump aboard and kick her heels into the beast to get him to gallop at top speed.

Of course, her parents were not so straight-laced and tradition-bound as some, like old Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, who was always coming around, sticking her nose into other people’s affairs, and telling her mother and father that they spoilt their children.

The only thing Twig missed about home—well, she did miss her parents, and even that brother of hers, aggravating as he could be—the only thing she missed was drawing and painting to her heart’s content. Her father made sure she had all she needed for picture-making. Here, living as part of a farm family, there was nothing of that sort.

Twig picked up a half-burned stick and began to sketch on the hearthstones.

’Have you got that fire built yet?’ Hardy’s voice came from behind. ‘Twig! Just dreaming! What are we to do for breakfast, I ask you?’

Twig went sprawling, but was up to give as good as she got before Mum’s voice interrupted them. ‘Boys! You stop that, this minute! Twig, haven’t you got that fire built yet?’

’It’s all laid,’ Twig said. ‘I just have to spark it.’

’Then spark it and have done! Da’s not going to like to eat his porridge cold and uncooked when he comes in from the hunt, let me tell you!’

’Is Da coming home today?’ Hardy said excitedly, as Twig got out the flint and steel. She thought of her fumbling attempts upon her arrival a few months ago, when she’d been delivered here by cousin Ferdibrand, to take up her new role as a boy. ‘And the rest?’ Hardy added. He was the youngest of a large family of Tooks, and had been bitterly disappointed to be left at home when the rest took up their bows to hunt the ruffians.

’Well,’ Mum said slowly, ‘We do not know quite where they are, what with chasing off the ruffians with the son of the Thain and all. But we must be ready to greet them at any time. And I, at least, do not care for cold, uncooked porridge, either!’

Mum strained the milk that Hardy had brought in from the small byre and proceeded to put breakfast on. ‘Ah, you’ve got that fire going nicely, Twig,’ she said with a wink. ‘There’s a good lad.’ Twig hid a snicker. She wondered if Hardy had guessed yet, or if only Mum, with her sharp eyes, knew Twig’s secret.

’Can we go digging, Mum, after chores are done?’ Hardy asked later, as they were gulping down their porridge. There was always a race between Twig and Hardy to see who could eat “the mostest the fastest”. There were no dainty table manners here, no elegant talk, no scolding for slurping your tea or enjoying your meal. Mum had raised a family of boys, rough and ready, and while she kept things “nice” inside the little hobbit hole, she did not believe in putting on airs, either.

’All right, my lads,’ she said fondly. ‘Dig away! Just be back in time for tea. I’ll pack some food for you.’ She knew they were digging a hideaway in the hill behind the screen of some gorse and blackberry bushes, not far from the hole. It would be a good diversion, and keep them close to home.

Chores done, sacks and shovels in hand, bows and quivers on their backs, the lads kissed Mum and marched from the hobbit hole to their hidey-hole. A small stack of boards was concealed beneath the bushes, for Hardy’s older brothers had shown him how to brace the sides of a tunnel in order to dig safely. Now Hardy took charge, being the older by a few months. ‘You go up top, keep a lookout for ruffians,’ he said. ‘Sing out if you see them.’

’Wouldn’t they hear me if I sang?’ Twig said wryly.

’You know what I mean,’ Hardy snorted. ‘Creep down, ever so quiet, and let me know so that we can set up a defence!’ They were talking about imaginary ruffians, of course. The single ruffian that had so nearly throttled Hardy had been the only one seen in these parts, and the Tooks were driving the rest out of the Shire.

’But I want to dig!’ Twig protested.

’We’ll take turns,’ Hardy said. ‘But to do this properly, we really have to set a guard.’

’Very well,’ Twig said with a sigh and a shrug. Leaving the shovel and fastening the bag of food to the quiver strap, she made her way up the hill, half trudging and half climbing, for the face was steep here and Twig needed both hands and both feet in places. Reaching the top, it was a relief to throw oneself down and dig out a chunk of bread and some cheese and munch away while surveying the surrounding countryside.

The lads had switched off several times, taking turns digging and watching, and were gloriously dirty, though they had quite a bit of digging left to do that day (the food bags, generously stuffed when they’d left the hole, were still more than half full), when Twig, on watch again atop the hill, stiffened. Heart in her throat, she made her way rapidly down to the hidey-hole, arriving in time for a faceful of dirt from Hardy’s shovel. This was not enough to make Twig do more than gasp, however, and diving into the tunnel, she grabbed the other in a panicky grip.

’Ruffians!’ she whispered. ‘Ruffians, and they’re coming towards the farm!’

’O now,’ Hardy said in annoyance. ‘We hadn’t decided to play ruffians, now, we were just going to watch for them!’

’No,’ Twig gasped, face white under its coating of dirt. ‘They’re really coming, it’s true! I’m not playing!’

Hardy straightened as much as he could in the tunnel, which wasn’t much. ‘How many?’ he snapped.

’Too many,’ Twig said. ‘Half a dozen.’

Hardy shook his head. ‘We can’t deal with that many, even with Mum shooting,’ he said. ‘They’re too big.’ He thought swiftly. ‘Stay here,’ he said. ‘Wipe out any sign we’ve been here. I’ve got to get Mum.’

Twig nodded. Their play-place was a perfect hiding place from ruffians, as luck had favoured them. They didn’t want the ruffians to follow any tracks to them, however. She picked up a fallen branch and began to sweep away their tracks in a wide half-circle.

Chapter 20. Seeking a Stray Lamb

Rudivacar persuaded Odovacar to stay with Fredegar while he went back to Tookland to search for Estella. ‘Freddy’s getting better,’ he said. ‘He’s starting to sit up and take notice, and it will be much easier to explain my absence than yours.’

’As long as Merry and Pippin keep stopping in on occasion to describe how they’re driving out the ruffians, he seems to understand the need for Estella to stay in hiding.’

’Yes, but... nobody’s hiding here in Bywater,’ Rudivacar said slowly.

Odo shook his head. ‘I do not believe that Freddy’s thinking too clearly yet,’ he said. ‘In some ways it is a blessing to him, and we are taking advantage of it to allay his worries for Estella, and his fear of going home, and what must yet be done if his right hand is to be saved.’

Rudi lowered his voice still more, though they were already speaking low. ‘Do you think there is a real risk of him willing himself to die when we return to Budgeford?’

’Frodo seems to think so,’ Odo whispered. He had talked this over with Farmer Cotton, and the good farmer had told him to extend their visit just as long as need be. (‘We might have to put you to work in the fields if you stay through planting time,’ he’d joked, then placed a hand on Odo’s shoulder. ‘Stay as long as need be,’ he’d added. ‘Your son’s already paid the room and board well ahead.’)

’Well then, we must have him well and strong before we make the attempt,’ Rudivacar said. ‘It’s just as well. The last message said that Budge Hall will require quite a bit more work to make it habitable again. Old Oakleaf said that not a single windowpane was spared, to begin with.’ He sipped the last of his tea and rose from the table.

’I’m off!’ he announced cheerily. ‘Thank you for the tea and scones, Mrs Cotton. I do believe they’ll hold me all the way to Tuckborough!’

’I’ve packed you a few bites just in case,’ the farmer’s wife smiled, turning from her dinner preparations to scoop up a bag.

’Good idea, if I run into surly Tooks I’ll simply fling the bag at them and your fine cookery will keep them busy whilst I make my escape!’ he said, and she laughed.

’Bundle up well, now, there’s a chill in the air,’ she said. With a smile, Rudivacar wrapped himself in his cloak.

’Mrs Cotton, if you weren’t a “Missus” I’d be tempted to make you my missus,’ Rudi said. ‘I might just have to marry that daughter of yours instead.’

’She’s already spoken for,’ Mrs Cotton said placidly. Honestly, the way the gentry carried on, joking about such a serious matter...

’It’s the story of my life,’ Rudi said with a mock sigh. ‘All the best are already snapped up or spoken for. It looks as if I might have to settle for a Took.’ On that note, he let himself out into the predawn darkness, closing the door quickly to keep the chill of the icy night from entering the cosy kitchen.

He didn’t need to fling the bag of food as it turned out, but he did share out the contents with the guards he met halfway to the Great Smials. These Tooks were much more cheerful than the last bunch. They weren’t expecting to see any ruffians coming at Tookland from Bywater these days. All the larger groups of ruffians had been driven out, and now the hobbits just had to find and rout out the smaller groups that had gone to ground. These were the more dangerous, of course, murderous in their rage at the hobbits for daring to upset their comfortable living and determined to stay and make as much trouble as possible if they could not take back the land. A few hobbits had been killed or badly hurt, and the Thain and his forces were combing every inch of countryside to find them. Those who surrendered were shown the borders, but many chose to fight, and fell to Tookish arrows.

Reaching the Great Smials, he asked for Reginard and was shown quickly to the Thain’s study.

’What can I do for you?’ Regi said.

’We’re still trying to trace Estella,’ Rudi answered. ‘Ferdibrand was the last to see her, that we know of. How is he?’

Regi smiled. ‘If you had asked me a few days ago, I’d’ve told you he was dying,’ he said. ‘I didn’t allow for his stubborn streak.’

’That is good news!’ Rudi said enthusiastically. Rosamunda would be so pleased to hear that her brother’s son was recovering.

’The healers say things could still go either way,’ Regi cautioned, ‘but at least they are holding out hope now, where before all they could do was shake their heads.’

’And how is Ferdinand?’

’Looking for the worst to happen, as always,’ Reginard said. ‘Still, some good may come out of this. Paladin has persuaded him to own his daughter again, and Rosemary is here in the Smials.’

’Where?’ Rudi asked eagerly.

’With Ferdi, of course,’ Reginard answered. ‘I’ll take you to them.’

Entering Ferdibrand’s room, he greeted Rosemary Bolger and Pimpernel Took, who were watching by the bedside.

’Rosemary, it is good to see you,’ he said.

’It has been a long time, Rudi,’ she answered. ‘But all is forgiven, it seems, and my name may be mentioned in society once more.’ He nodded, uncomfortable. He’d never agreed with the shunning, and had quietly asked Freddy for news of his cousin whenever he heard the lad had been wandering, for often his wanderings took him down to Woody End.

’Cousin,’ Pimpernel said smoothly, rising to take his hand. ‘What brings you back to the Smials?’

’Ferdi, here,’ Rudi nodded, grateful for the change of subject. ‘I’d heard he was doing better, and hoped to talk with him.’

’He hasn’t said much yet,’ Rosemary said, ‘although he has opened his eyes a few times, and taken some water and broth.’ She looked up at Rudi coolly. ‘What did you want to talk with him about?’

’Estella,’ he said.

’Estella!’ Rosemary responded in surprise. ‘What about Estella?’

’He’s the only one who knows where she is, apparently,’ Rudi answered.

’She’s not back with her parents?’ Rosemary said in astonishment. ‘Where is she, then? She’s not here at the Smials, so I assumed Odo—‘

’She never reached the Smials,’ Rudi explained. ‘Evidently Ferdi left her off someplace and never went back to claim her.’

Rosemary turned to Pimpernel. ‘Didn’t he tell the Thain, at least?’

Pimpernel shook her head. ‘He had some urgent news for the Thain, and she encumbered him, so he left her off with a farm family, that is all that we know,’ she said. ‘Later the Thain decided she’d be well enough where she was, for he feared the ruffians were massing for an attack on the Great Smials.’

’But he didn’t know where she was!’ Rosemary said.

’No, only Ferdi does,’ Pimpernel nodded. She bent close to Ferdibrand, gently stroking the part of his face that was not covered by bandages. ‘Ferdi,’ she said softly. He stirred under her touch.

’Sit him up,’ Rosemary said. ‘As long as we’re trying to waken him, we’ll get some water into him at the same time.’ Rudi helped to prop cushions behind the injured hobbit.

’Ferdi,’ Pimpernel said again. ‘Where’s Estella?’ He opened his eyes to stare at her, unfocused, confused.

’Drink, Ferdi,’ Rosemary said, holding a cup to his lips, and he sipped obediently. ‘Now tell us, lad, where’s Twig? What did you do with Twig? Can you remember?’

’Twig,’ he whispered, but seemed unable to say more.

’Twig?’ Rudivacar said, confused.

’Yes, we disguised Estella as a boy,’ Rosemary said. ‘Easier to slip through the woods in breeches than in skirts, and if the ruffians caught them they’d be more likely to let her go if they thought she was a lad.’

’But—‘ Rudi said in consternation, and stopped.

’But what?’ Pimpernel said, staring at him.

’Merry Brandybuck rescued a lad by that name, in the Green Hill country,’ Rudi said. He was distracted by a thought. 'Just what was a ruffian doing in Green Hill country, anyhow?'

'The Tooks took down their traps too soon,' Pimpernel said grimly. 'Ferdi would have told them to keep the traps in place until we were sure the ruffians were well gone, but now they are on the run, seeking shelter wherever they may find it, and some have slipped into Tookland. Father was fit to be tied!'

'I can imagine,' Rudi said dryly. 'But getting back to "Twig"--' he said.

’It could be a coincidence of names,’ Rosemary began, but Pimpernel shook her head.

’ “Twig” would not be all that common amongst Tooks,’ she argued. ‘Ferdi picked a name that would be memorable, in case something happened to him, I suspect.’

’I picked the name,’ Rosemary said shortly, then her shoulders relaxed. ‘But you’re right, it is more a name common amongst the forest Bolgers than amongst the Tooks.’

’Then Merry knows where Estella is!’ Rudi said. ‘Is he here in the Smials, now?’

’No, he’s out in the fields, chasing ruffians,’ Pimpernel said, rising abruptly from the bed, where she’d settled to try to rouse Ferdibrand. ‘But Regi should be able to show you on a map where they’re supposed to be.’

’Thank you!’ Rudi said. He stopped long enough to bend over Ferdi. ‘Be well, cousin,’ he said softly. ‘I hope to see you on your feet soon.’ Ferdi smiled and closed his eyes, and Rudi made his farewells to Rosemary and Pimpernel and made his way back to the Thain’s study.

***

’So Ferdi was able to tell you where to find Estella?’ Reginard asked.

’No, but evidently Merry Brandybuck can,’ Rudivacar answered. ‘Nell told me you could show me how to find him, on a map.’

’I can show you where he’s supposed to be,’ Regi answered. ‘And in truth, he ought to be there, after the lecture Thain Paladin gave Pippin for not being where he was supposed to be when his father sought him, a few days ago.’

’So that was why the lad was in such a foul humour when last I saw him,’ Rudi said.

’O aye,’ Regi answered. ‘The Thain can tear strips from a body with the backside of his tongue, he can, and he does not spare his son even when the lad’s newly returned from the dead.’

With the map fresh in his memory and another bag of provisions, Rudivacar mounted his pony, hope fresh. With any luck at all, he’d find Merry by nooning (the troop he and Pippin led was only a couple of hours’ fast ride from the Smials at the moment) and have Estella in hand in time for tea, bringing her back to Bywater that evening or on the morrow at the latest.

The pony seemed to enjoy stretching out for a good run over the grassy hills, and they made good time, even with Rudi pulling him down into a slower pace for an occasional breather. Soon he saw signs of an encampment and not long after he was being hailed by a Tookish sentry.

’I’m looking for Merry Brandybuck!’ he shouted.

’Captain Merry? Luck is with you, he’s here at the moment,’ the sentry shouted back, waving him on. Rudi rode into camp, jumping down from his pony and entering the tent the Tooks directed him to.

Merry looked up from where he sat. ‘What is it? Has something happened to Freddy?’ he asked. He was half-undressed, and one arm was being tended by a healer.

’No, but I’m close to finding Estella,’ Rudi said. ‘What’s happened to you?’

’Naught more than a scratch,’ Merry answered. ‘A ruffian thought to spit me with an arrow, but his aim was poor.’ He sucked in his breath as the cleansing cloth dug into the wound.

’Clean,’ the healer said, ‘no bones broken, and it doesn’t appear you’ll bleed to death.’

’There’s a mercy,’ Merry said under his breath.

’You ought to lie down for a rest,’ the healer continued.

’Come now, Mardi, it’s naught but a scratch,’ Merry protested. He started to get up from the stool but had to sit back down, dizzy.

’At least drink some of this,’ Mardi said, picking up a covered cup and thrusting it at his patient.

’It’s not a sleeping draught, is it?’ Merry asked suspiciously.

’It ought to be,’ Mardi said, ‘but no, it’s something to strengthen you, instead. I made it just as bad tasting as I could, given the rough conditions I must labour under.’

’My thanks,’ Merry said with a twist of his mouth then gulped the contents of the cup bravely.

’How is he?’ Pippin asked, thrusting aside the tent flap. ‘Rudi! Someone told me a visitor had ridden in.’

’He’s looking for Estella,’ Merry said, still making a face at the taste of the draught.

’Estella?’ Pippin said in astonishment. ‘Did you think to find her in a camp of Tooks?’

’No,’ Rudi said, ‘that would be too much to hope for. But Merry’s seen her, and I hope he can lead me to her.’

’I’ve seen her?’ Merry said, stunned.

’Do you remember the lad you rescued a few days back, “Twig”?’ Rudi said.

’Twig knows where Estella is?’ Merry asked.

’In a manner of speaking,’ Rudi said dryly. ‘ “Twig” is Estella.’

Merry stared at him, stunned silent, while Pippin began to laugh.

’Estella is living as a lad named “Twig”?’ Pippin asked, when he could control his laughter.

’Yes, it seems that Ferdibrand Took gave her a new name and stuck her away with a farm family for safekeeping. He would have gone to fetch her later, but your father said to leave well enough alone,’ Rudi said.

’I can see where he might,’ Pippin said thoughtfully. ‘She has a way of livening up things at the Smials when she’s there.’

’Can you tell me where to find her?’ Rudi asked, his urgency returning.

’I can do better than that; I’ll take you there!’ Merry said stoutly.

’You’re not going anywhere,’ Pippin said, ‘Not after I had to half-carry you here!’

’I’m fine, cousin, it was just a scratch—wasn’t it, Mardi?’ Merry said.

’Just a scratch,’ Mardi affirmed with a sigh. ‘But if you fall on your head it’s not my fault.’

Merry shook off Pippin’s restraining hand and rose from the chair. The draught, bad-tasting as it was, had indeed been strengthening. He felt himself a whole new hobbit; well, perhaps not entirely whole, but he’d make do.

’Come along, Rudi,’ he said. ‘The farm’s not far from here, as a matter of fact.’

’I’ll come too,’ Pippin said, ‘just to keep you from falling on your head.’

***

About an hour later, Rudivacar, Merry, and Pippin stood staring at the smoking ruin of a small byre, a chicken house that had been knocked to pieces, and bloody remains of creatures that had been hacked to pieces strewn on the ground between hobbit hole and byre. Every window was broken, the door had been knocked from its hinges, and smoke hung heavy inside the hobbit hole.

’Perhaps Estella wasn’t here,’ Pippin said numbly.

Merry took out a handkerchief, held it over his face, and ducked into the hobbit hole, one of the Tooks close behind him with a torch. They searched through the hobbit hole, finding nothing but signs of frenzied destruction.

’Here!’ he heard Pippin call, and he came out to the kitchen again.

’What is it?’ Merry asked, stopping where Pippin and Rudi stared down at something. He was glad to see it wasn’t a body, or pieces of a body.

’Look,’ Rudi said, bringing his torch closer to the stones. ‘Estella was here, all right.’

In silence, the hobbits stared at the sketch of a knight, Merry’s face clearly distinguishable despite the roughness of the sketch, drawn upon the hearthstone by a skilful hand.

Chapter 21. Sticks and Stones

’Freddy-lad? Are you awake?’ Fredegar stirred at the familiar name from his childhood. He’d fallen asleep after teatime, and was enjoying a remarkably peaceful dream, but it slipped away even as he tried to grasp at it.

’Pretty hard to answer “no” to that question,’ he said sleepily, and heard his father chuckle.

’Someone’s here to see you,’ Odovacar said.

’Hullo, Mr Freddy,’ came a familiar voice.

Fredegar opened his eyes. ‘Budgie!’ he said. ‘How did you get here?’

 Budgie laughed. ‘The usual way,’ he said cheerfully. ‘My old dad said he was a-coming to see you, and I asked to come along.’

’Did Robin come as well?’ Freddy asked. ‘The two of you are inseparable.'

’Not this trip,’ Budgie said lightly, but Freddy looked at him sharply, hearing something behind the words.

’Is he all right?’ he asked.

Budgie patted his shoulder. ‘He’s growing stronger every day, just not strong enough to make the trip here. Dad left my mum stuffing his face every hour on the hour, whether he wants to eat or not!’

’Ah,’ Freddy said. There was another reason, but they’d let that stand for the nonce, until folk decided to tell him what was what.

’Where is your dad?’ he asked.

’In the kitchen, talking with the local healer. Mrs Chubb?’

’Yes,’ Freddy said, keeping his tone light. Healers in the kitchen boded no good for him, he feared. ‘That’s the local healer. Lovely hobbit, very fond of tea.’

Odovacar chuckled, but it sounded forced.

At that moment, Frodo came in, moving directly to Freddy’s side and taking up his good hand. ‘Have they told you yet?’ he asked.

’Evidently not,’ Freddy said, looking from Odovacar to Budgie and back to Frodo.

’Son,’ Odovacar began, but seemed to have difficulty. As Frodo started to speak, he held up his hand. ‘Freddy-lad, the healers seem to think that it’s time to...’

’Go home?’ Freddy asked. It was the worst thing he could think of; he might as well get it out of the way first.

’No, not quite yet,’ Odo said, and Freddy nodded, still tense, awaiting the bad news. ‘They think it is time to re-set the bones in your right hand.’

’I see,’ Freddy said quietly. He forced himself to speak brightly. ‘Well that is a piece of news! I must be getting stronger. When do we start?’

’As soon as you are ready,’ Odo said quietly.

’The sooner the better—let us get it over with,’ Freddy said, though of course he wished he could bury himself in his covers and start the day over again, with a different conclusion.

The two healers came in, then, with Rosamunda. Rosamunda kissed her son and stood back quietly to hear the talk. Finch Smallfoot had a hug for Freddy, putting him back to look at him closely. ‘I examined you whilst you were sleeping, you know,’ he said. ‘You look even better when you’re awake! You’re alert, and there’s more life in your eyes than the last time I saw you.’

Freddy nodded, then cut to the heart of the matter. ‘So what do we do?’ he asked.

’We give you a sleeping draught, make you quite comfortable, arrange so that you will remain still whilst we work, and... you waken in the morning with your hand nicely splinted and ready to heal properly.’

’You make it sound quite simple,’ Freddy said.

’Easy as pie,’ Finch replied.

’I don’t know, I’ve never made a pie,’ Freddy said, ‘but the one time I watched it looked quite complicated.’

Finch laughed and shook his head. ‘Trust me,’ he said. ‘I’ve been a healer since before you were born.’ He looked to Anise Chubb with a twinkle in his eye. ‘I won’t speak for Mrs Chubb,’  he said, ‘but I suspect she’s been a healer for quite some time as well.’

’I’ve forgot more about healing than you’ll ever know,’ she retorted.

’That’s supposed to reassure me?’ Freddy asked, and the others laughed.

Mrs Cotton, Farmer Cotton, Samwise, and several of the Cotton sons entered the room. It was becoming a bit crowded, Freddy thought. ‘Here’s the draught,’ Mrs Cotton said, carrying a covered mug. ‘It’s been steeping a good long while.’

’Drink up, Freddy,’ Finch said, and Freddy complied. Rosamunda came forward again to say, ‘I’ll be right outside if you need me, my love.’

He nodded, accepted her kiss on his cheek, gave her a kiss in return. ‘I’ll be right here if you need me, Mother,’ he said. She smiled, though he thought it was strained, and left the room with Mrs Cotton.

’Right,’ Finch said. ‘Let’s get everyone arranged properly. Freddy, we’re going to have Young Tom sit on the bed with you and hold you in place, and...’

’No,’ Frodo said quietly, his grip on Freddy’s hand tightening.

’What was that?’ Finch said.

’I beg your pardon, Tom, but Freddy doesn’t know you well. He needs to be held by someone he trusts,’ Frodo said. ‘Odo?’

Freddy’s father shook his head. ‘I’m not sure I’m strong enough to keep him from doing himself harm,’ he said.

’How strong are you, Mr Baggins?’ Finch asked candidly, surveying the Ring-bearer from head to foot.

’Strong enough to do what must be done,’ Frodo said firmly. ‘Samwise will help me if need be; won’t you, Sam?’

’Of course, Mr Frodo,’ Sam said, though his heart quailed within him as he remembered a similar scene at Rivendell; hands holding Mr Frodo still as possible while Master Elrond dug ever deeper into the hobbit’s flesh... he swallowed hard and stood a little straighter. ‘I’ll do whatever you need me to do,’ he added.

Frodo stretched himself out on the bed next to Freddy, wrapping his arms about his cousin. ‘There we are, nice and cosy,’ he said. ‘Just like little lads; remember how we all tumbled together like pups in the big bed when Posy got married?’ There had been tangles of young Tooks and Brandybucks and Bolgers stuffed into beds, as many as would fit, for even the great house could not contain all the guests at that signature wedding, and some of the older lads ended up sleeping in the hayloft.

’I remember Bilbo kept rolling off the horsehair sofa in the best parlour and ended up sleeping on the floor,’ Freddy said sleepily. The draught was already taking effect. He heard as if through a mist Finch giving orders, felt his right arm seized gently and stretched out upon a table drawn up next to the bed, and then he fell asleep.

Mrs Cotton, out in the hallway, said softly, ‘Wouldn’t you like to come to the kitchen for a cup of tea, Mistress?’

Rosamunda shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m too great a coward to be in there watching them hurt him, but I promised I would be right outside the door if he needed me.’ She smiled at the farmer’s wife. ‘I wouldn’t mind a cup, if you wouldn’t mind bringing it to me here.’

’Very well,’ Mrs Cotton said, and bustled off to the kitchen.

Young Rose returned with the steaming cup, and lingered, hearing murmurs inside the room, a sudden silence followed by a sickening sound. Mistress Bolger swayed, and Rose took the cup from her before it could fall. ‘Do you want to come sit down, Mistress?’ she asked anxiously.

’No,’ Rosamunda said, shaking her head. Rose put the cup upon the floor and reached to steady Fredegar’s mother, and Rosamunda nodded thanks, stiffening as the murmur recommenced, followed by telltale silence...

’Hold him still!’ came from within the room, and someone else murmured, ‘The draught isn’t...’

’Steady, Freddy-lad,’ Odovacar said, tears in his eyes as he watched his son fighting, even in his sleep, the farmer’s sons who held him. ‘Steady.’

’Shall we try again later, after a stronger draught, perhaps?’ Anise Grubb said.

’I gave him as strong a draught as I dared,’ Finch answered. ‘We’ve half through already, got the bones in the hand re-set, and just have the fingers to do now. Let us keep on as we started.’

Sam looked away, feeling sick, but he caught Frodo’s gaze and it steadied him. He took a firmer grip on Freddy’s arm, as did Tom and Nibs, while Jolly held Freddy’s legs to keep him from thrashing, and Farmer Cotton held Freddy’s left arm still. Frodo kept his arms tight around his cousin, murmuring in his ear as the healers worked.

Freddy was in the Lockholes once more, an unwilling player in the Question game. Ruffians were laughing, and his hand hurt like nothing he’d ever felt before.

’How about an easy one, this time?’ Gimp said. ‘Let’s see, the rats are fond of riddles. Here’s a nice one:

’In my little hat, I dance on high.
’Small and round and smooth am I,
’But when I fall I may spring up tall!’

’Acorn,’ Freddy whispered.

’What was that, cousin?’ Frodo asked softly, but his voice was drowned out by the ruffians.

’Haw, he got that one right! Well, now, I’ve got an easy question to ask!’ It was the one they called Scar-face.

’What’s that?’ the scribe asked.

’All right, rat, pay attention. Answer me this and we shall spare the last two fingers on your hand, but give me a wrong answer and you know what’ll happen.’

’No, please,’ Freddy moaned, and Frodo held him a bit tighter.

’What’s the name of the inn by the gate in the Third Circle of Minas Tirith?’

’What?’ Freddy gasped, and the ruffians jeered.

’Everybody knows the answer to that question!’  ‘That’s too easy!’ ‘You’re going soft, Scar-face!’

’What’s the name of the inn?’ Scar-face pressed.

’No, please!’ Freddy begged. He felt pressure on his ring finger and began to scream.

’What’s the name? Time’s running out!’ the gleeful ruffian said.

’Please, no!’ Freddy cried. ‘I’ll say anything you want me to say, only please, stop, please...’

’Hold him still!’ Finch gritted, and finished his work. Wiping sweat and tears from his face, he stumbled away from the table, leaving the splinting for Anise Chubb to finish.

Chapter 22. Lost and Found

Mum and the two lads crouched silently in the little digging, not much more than a hole in the ground, dark and damp, lined with roots and the ends of worms, listening to the rough voices of Men calling to each other.

Mum winced at the first few smashing noises, then sat stoically, listening to the wanton destruction of her home. Beneath her the dog whined, and she hushed him, her hands tightening on his muzzle so that he might not erupt into a fury of barking. The lads huddled against her, hands tight on their bows, arrows ready to fit to the string at need, but she hoped it would not come to that. They’d have time for an arrow apiece, perhaps, before the ruffians seized them and exacted an awful revenge.

All stiffened as a Man’s voice was heard close outside their hidey-hole. ‘Well, what have we here?’ Mum stopped breathing, but kept holding on to the dog’s muzzle, feeling the lowest vibration of a growl under her hands.

’Bill, come here! Look what we’ve got here!’ came the rough cry.

’Well, well, lookee here, a nanny goat and her kids,’ was the answer, and Mum relaxed slightly. They’d released the goats before running to the hole, wiping their own tracks out as they went. Evidently some of the goats had not wandered far.

’No rats to be found, but their goats will do us just fine,’ the first voice said. ‘We’ll get as much milk as we can, and then we’ll have us a feast of roasted meat!’

’Better not stay around here too long,’ Bill warned. ‘There’s a troop of rats not far off, and they might come if they see the smoke.’

’Haw. We left them little enough to find,’ the first ruffian said. ‘Come along then, we’ll find good hiding in these hills, I think.’

The hobbits sat silent and still, long after the voices retreated, and a good thing, too, for more voices were heard later. They didn’t sound quite like the earlier ones, but it might have been a trick of the ruffians to draw any hobbits out of hiding, so they stayed tight in the hole. Mum held the dog firmly though he squirmed under her, and his throat vibrated with barks straining for release.

Suddenly one of the voices was raised in a shout, and all the hobbits started up. Mum lost her grip on Nip and the dog wriggled out from under her, bursting from the hole in a volley of eager barks.

’Da!’ Hardy shouted, crawling out of the hole, past the thorny brambles, and running to where a group of Tookish archers milled, the dog jumping at several of them and barking wildly. ‘Da!’

’Hardy!’ an archer called, and as the lad jumped upon him he took his youngest son in a fierce hug, tears running down his cheeks. ‘O my lad,’ he said. ‘My lad... where’s Mum?’

’Here,’ Mum said, emerging from the brambles, pushing her tangled curls back from her face.

’You’re safe,’ the archer said. ‘When we saw the destruction and the blood, we thought the worst.’

’Chickens and goats,’ Mum replied. She was beginning to shake from reaction, and pulled the featherbed closer about herself. Not knowing how long they’d be stranded, and having a clear idea what the ruffians would do, she’d gathered what she could in the few moments she’d had after Hardy brought her the warning.

’And Twig? Is he well?’ Hardy’s Da asked.

’Twig?’ Mum said. Odd that the lad hadn’t rushed out as quickly as Hardy... she looked behind, to see that one hanging back, unaccountably shy. ‘Twig, come out now, it’s all right.’

’I’m not afraid,’ Twig said defiantly, and at the husky voice, Rudivacar started.

’Estella?’ he said joyfully. ‘Estella!’ he shouted, striding forward to envelop the filthy lad in a great hug.

’Uncle Rudi!’ Estella said, muffled by his shirt.

’Estella?’ Hardy said in wonder. ‘You’re a girl?’ he asked in disgust.

’Aye, Twig’s a girl,’ his father said, releasing him after another hug. ‘But bonny and brave for a’ that,’ he added proudly. ‘As fine as any of my lads, I’m glad to say.’ His older sons gathered around Estella, exclaiming in wonder at the trick their parents had played.

’Our cousin’s a girl?’ the eldest said.

’You don’t have to make it sound so terrible,’ Estella flared.

’No wonder you had Twig sleeping in the kitchen,’ Hardy grumbled. ‘It wasn’t because there was no room, like you said.’

’We told you truth,’ his Da said, ‘as we always do. It was handy, having no room. You were the ones decided Twig was a lad when the Fox brought Twig to us, as you may recall, and we simply didn’t correct the idea. Safer for Twig, with the threat of ruffians and all.’

’No ruffians were in Tookland at the time,’ the eldest son said.

’Ah, but they came in later, didn’t they?’ their Da answered, unruffled. ‘The Fox had his reasons, and he paid us well for our silence.’ He looked about at the destruction. ‘Looks as if those coins will come in handy, doesn’t it?’ His wife clutched the featherbed a little tighter, with its bag of coins sewn into the seam.

One of the knights (Merry! Estella realised) swayed, steadied by the other, whom Estella recognised as her cousin Pip, now grown much taller than she remembered, thinner and more grim as well. Pippin said now, ‘Rudi, I want you to take Merry back to the Smials with you; I’ll send half the escort along. The rest of us are going to hunt down this party of ruffians.’

’I’m fine,’ Merry protested.

Pippin snorted. ‘Tell it to the healer,’ he said. ‘I imagine once Woodruff gets a look at you, she’ll want to pop you into a bed for a day or three, and she’ll be right.’

’You’ve never paid heed to healers in the past, why would you start now?’ Merry said.

’Your colour’s bad,’ Rudivacar said critically. ‘You’ve lost a fair amount of blood, from all appearances, and a few days in bed will do you no harm.’

’I want you to go with them,’ Hardy’s Da said to Mum. ‘Take Hardy back to the Smials with you; it’ll be safer until we have all the vermin cleared out.’

Mum nodded. With no front door, her hobbit hole was as vulnerable as the hidey-hole. ‘You take care,’ she said.

He smiled and gave her a squeeze, fixed Hardy with a stern look and said, ‘Take good care of your Mum, now.’

’Don’t I always?’ Hardy said.

His Da laughed and gently slapped his back. ‘That you do,’ he said and turned away to mount his pony again.

Merry continued to protest as Pippin and Rudi helped him onto his pony, then Estella mounted behind Rudi. Mum mounted the pony they’d brought for Estella, with Hardy behind her. Nip jumped up at the pony's side, then settled himself to run alongside Mum's pony, growling a bit to let the pony know he carried the dog’s treasure on his back.

’Good hunting!’ Rudi called to Pippin and his escort, who raised their bows in return.

’See you back at the Smials!’ Pippin shouted, wheeling his pony around to follow the tracker who’d already started along the ruffians’ trail.

Chapter 23. ...and Lost, Again

’Freddy,’ a voice whispered, a caress on his tortured ears.

’No,’ he moaned, moving his head away. ‘No,’ he said again. The wizard was up to his tricks again, making him think he heard his mother’s voice. The pleasant dream would seem to be reality, to the point where he could open his eyes and see a whitewashed ceiling above him, feel the touch of gentle hands, taste wholesome food in his mouth... then the room would go dark, the soft voices turn to harsh jeers, pain would assail him and his mouth would be filled with dust.

’Freddy,’ his mother said, a little more demanding. How did his mother come to be here? O yes, he remembered. It was the wizard’s trick. She was not here, but they were trying to get him to say his name.

’Number Seventy-four,’ he mumbled, and heard her gasp, and a catch in her breathing as if she were weeping.

’That’s all over now, Mr Freddy,’ he heard Budgie say. This brought him to full alertness, for Budgie should not be there.

’Budgie!’ he whispered, though his throat was raw and sore. ‘Budgie, how do you come to be here? You’ve got to go back, get back in your cell, before they find you and beat Robin and Beech!’

’It’s all right—‘ Budgie began, but Freddy, opening his eyes with difficulty, focused on him. Reaching with his left hand, he grasped Budgie by the shirt.

’I don’t think Robin can stand any more!’ he said frantically. ‘He’ll die, Budgie, die...’ He lay back on the bed, his grip on Budgie’s shirt loosening, his hand falling limp to the bed. ‘Die,’ he whispered. ‘Why won’t you let me die? Please.’

His mother gasped again and began to plead, and he heard a voice like Frodo’s saying, ‘Freddy...’ but it was drowned out by the wizard’s kindly tones.

It’s not time for you to die, yet, young rebel. You won’t die here in the Lockholes, o no, that would be precipitous of you, indeed. When I see that you are failing, I shall send word to your parents, that they may fetch you home.

’Home,’ Freddy echoed. He wished for home, for the release it promised, even if the pain should be worse than what he felt now.

’Yes, my love,’ Rosamunda said, ‘We’ll take you home again.’

’No,’ Frodo warned, but the wizard spoke again.

Yes, home, the smooth Voice repeated. But I fear to tell you that they will take you home to die in the bosom of your family, for that is the least kindness I can do for you. I am so sorry to say it will be a painful death. Such a tragedy, for them to watch you gasping out your last moments writhing in agony, but better, I suppose than their never knowing what became of you.

’Better,’ Freddy echoed. How many times would the wizard tell him this, before deciding to send him home?

’Are you feeling better, lad?’ Finch said quietly. Freddy had had a blurred vision of his face as pain scored his hand, and now he recoiled.

’Please,’ he said, ‘no more, please.’

’It’s all gone, Freddy, all over and done,’ Finch said, but Freddy continued to shrink away. His hand burned like fire and throbbed and felt altogether—there were no words to describe it.

’Number Seventy-four,’ he gasped again. Perhaps they wouldn’t hurt him so badly if he were obedient and tractable.

’The ruffians are gone, lad,’ his father said. Was this the dream? Or was his father there in truth? Might it be that the wizard had decided his time had come and sent for his parents? He opened his eyes, to see a familiar whitewashed rounded ceiling, not the Lockholes after all.

’Am I home?’ he asked, confused.

’No!’ Frodo said urgently, but his mother broke in, soothing his forehead with her cool, gentle fingers.

’Not yet, Freddy,’ she said. ‘We’re not home yet. We’re at Farmer Cotton’s, do you remember?’

Not yet. Freddy sighed and reached up with his left hand, to envelop Rosamunda’s fingers in his grasp. He wondered how he would ever manage to say goodbye. ‘I love you, Mother,’ he said softly and then he let the world slide away again.

***

’I’m sorry,’ Finch said later, in the kitchen. He was sipping, not a cup of tea, but something stronger, Farmer Cotton’s private stock of hard cider fermented from his own apples. ‘I thought he was strong enough, and I knew the job would only be harder the longer we left it. ‘Tis easier to correct when half-healed, after all.’

’How could you know?’ Odovacar said sadly. ‘None of us has ever dealt with this sort of thing before.’

’I pray none of us will ever have to deal with this sort of thing again,’ Anise Grubb said, sipping her own cup of cider. Tea somehow would not fit the bill.

’Will he recover?’ Odo asked. ‘Will we ever be able to take him home?’

Finch was silent a long while.

’Well?’ Odo said. Rosamunda was not there to take part in the discussion; she’d refused to leave Freddy’s side after the hand and fingers had been splinted. Frodo stayed with Freddy, as well. Samwise had brought his master a tray when he could not be coaxed away even for long enough to eat breakfast.

’I don’t know,’ Finch said softly. ‘That... that dratted wizard filled their heads full of nonsense. The ones who were worst injured were less able to fight. Our Robin...’ he shook his head. ‘We’re still fighting the battle with him.’

’What nonsense?’ Odo asked.

’O you know,’ Finch said in irritation. ‘That they would be taken home to die an agonising death.’ He stared into his empty cup, looking up to nod in thanks as Farmer Cotton silently refilled it. ‘We’re feeding Robin every hour, forcing the food in when he refuses it. We’re cosseting and cuddling him, singing him nursery songs and lullabies and never leaving him alone for a moment. I don’t know yet if we’ll save him.’ He wiped at his eye. ‘He’s all that’s left of my sister’s family, what got wiped out in the fever that went round a few years back. I don’t want to lose him too.’

’That’s what Frodo said,’ Odo whispered. ‘That Freddy was afraid to go home, that he might will himself to die if we took him back to Budge Hall.’

’That’s right,’ Finch said, and Budgie nodded.

’I keep thinking I’m going to fall ill,’ Budgie said. ‘But my old dad assures me I’m as healthy as I ever was, or will be that way if I just keep eating until the food comes out my ears.’

’O you’ll fall ill,’ Finch said, ‘with the normal things that happen to a body over a lifetime. Colds, maybe the grippe. Nobody’s well all the time. But the wizard’s words were lies, and you keep telling yourself that even when I’m not with you to remind you.’

’I do, Dad, and I will,’ Budgie promised.

’But—‘ Odo said slowly. ‘Freddy’s back in the Lockholes. How will we ever get him out again?’

’Time, and patience,’ Finch said. ‘That young Mr Frodo Baggins seems to have a calming effect. Somehow he understands Mr Freddy’s troubles better than the rest of us, I don’t know how, but he does. He told me he wouldn’t leave Mr Freddy’s side until the lad can find his way back out of the darkness. You’ve a real treasure, there, in that cousin of yours.’

’Don’t I know it,’ Odo said, but of course he didn’t know the half of it.

Chapter 24. Back at the Great Smials

By the time they reached the Smials it was dark, and Merry was leaning heavily against one of the Tookish archers.

’We want a healer here!’ Rudi shouted. The doorwards burst into frenzied activity, one running for Healer Woodruff, another for the Thain, who’d come in with his own group of hunters earlier in the day to check on the Great Smials and re-stock his troop’s supplies. The third moved forward to catch Merry as he slumped from the saddle, easing him down on the stones, taking off his own cloak to wrap around the mail-clad hobbit.

Rudi took Estella by the arm to help her slide from the pony’s back, then dismounted to go to Merry.

’Merry-lad?’ he said. ‘Merry, are you with us?’

’A lot of fuss and bother about nothing,’ Merry grumbled blearily, but even by the light of the torches he was pale and Rudi could see him shivering.

’Let’s get him inside,’ he said to the doorward, taking Merry’s arm. Inadvertently he grasped at the bandage and felt wetness there. He brought his fingers away, staring at the dark stain. ‘You’re bleeding again,’ he said. ‘We’ve got to get you to the healer!’

A couple of Tookish archers jumped down from their ponies and took Merry’s legs while Rudi and the doorward took his arms, carrying him into the Smials. They were met just inside by Thain Paladin who asked anxiously, ‘Pippin?’

’No, Merry,’ Rudi said.

The Thain nodded. ‘We’ll take him to the guest quarters, the suite reserved for the Master of Buckland,’ he said. Turning to address a hovering servant he snapped, ‘Find Woodruff and send her to us there!’

’Yes, Sir,’ the servant said, hurrying away.

***

Outside in the torchlit courtyard, Mum, Hardy, and Twig stood in an uncertain huddle. Even the dog Nip seemed unsure of himself, sitting with his back firmly against Mum’s knees, crowding against her in this unfamiliar place. She put a hand down and stroked the downy head. ‘S’all right there, Nip,’ she said softly. ‘Naught to harm you here.’

Her husband and sons had gone after the ruffians with young Master Peregrin and she was at something of a loss, never having been to the Great Smials before. They were so... great. Hundreds of windows blinked their lamps at her, and she wasn’t quite sure what to do.

One of the escort, a Took of the Great Smials by the cut of his clothing, had been talking with a stable lad and now came to her. ‘We’ll find you rooms to stay in,’ he said. ‘The dog ought to sleep in the stables with the ponies however.’

As if understanding the words Nip pressed himself harder against Mum’s knees and growled very low in his throat. ‘He comes with me,’ she said bravely. ‘He’ll raise a ruckus if’n he doesn’t.’

The escort nodded. Evidently she’d given the right answer; perhaps the Thain did not approve of such a thing as a ruckus. She’d heard he was a hobbit of exacting standards. ‘Follow me,’ was all the escort said and the little group of refugees did just that.

He led them into the Smials. It wasn’t all that different from any other hobbit hole, Mum decided, just much bigger. The tunnel went far back into the great hill and had corridors branching off and twists and turns and many doors and openings to either side. Their guide stopped to question a servant and then they were shown to a comfortably appointed suite of rooms: a common room something like a parlour with two sleeping rooms attached.

’There is a bath room across the corridor from your rooms,’ the servant said with a sniff, and Mum looked down at herself and the lads with new awareness of their grimy state.

’We’ve no clean things to change into,’ she said, raising her chin to look the condescending hobbit in the eye. ‘The ruffians took or spoilt all we had.’

’Ruffians!’ the servant said, instantly solicitous. ‘Why, we’ll be happy to provide you with fresh clothing and anything else you might require.’ He measured them with his eye, told them their bath would be made ready immediately and that he would return with tea, late supper and clean clothes.

’Come, Twig, I’ll help you bathe first,’ Mum said. ‘Hardy, you wait here until I come for you.’

’Yes’m,’ Hardy answered, taking Nip by the scruff to keep him from following Mum.

In the bath room servants were already pouring buckets of hot water into a copper tub. Mum waited with an arm about Twig’s shoulders, saying, ‘I’ll take care of the lad myself; we’re plain Tooks and he’s not used to having lots of other folk about.’

’Yes, mistress,’ one servant said, nodding to the others to follow him out. Mum placed a screen between tub and door and then turned to Twig.

’All right, “lad”—and I think we’ll keep up the play a little longer, for it would be quite a scandal amongst the Tooks for a lass to be pretending to be a lad, riding about without proper escort and such...’

Twig sighed and nodded. Etiquette and protocol, the things she’d hated most, were closing about her again. She undressed quickly and jumped into the tub before a servant could come in and discover her secret. Truly it was a relief to unwind the tight wrappings that disguised her true nature and gave her a boyish appearance.

’Here you are,’ Mum said, lathering a flannel and handing it to Twig to manage her own scrubbing whilst Mum washed her short-cropped curls. Twig had just ducked under to rinse when a knock came on the door. Mum stepped around the screen to answer the knock, receiving a pile of neatly-folded garments. ‘Thankee,’ she said with a nod. ‘Just wait outside and we’ll call if we need anything.’

’Yes, mistress,’ the servant said tonelessly. These ignorant country Tooks didn’t even know that they were supposed to have help with bathing and dressing.

Twig stood up from the wondrously warm water and Mum wrapped her in a luxurious bath sheet. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘Stand before the fire and dress yourself. I don’t want you to take a chill.’

Twig laughed. Surely any chill to be taken would have been found in the diggings! But she obediently stood before the fire, wrapping herself tightly again, then donning one set of boy’s clothes.

’You’ll do,’ Mum nodded. She undressed quickly and eased herself into the warm water. Ah, now this was the way to live. A bath at the farm was taken standing in a small tub before the kitchen fire. She’d never been able to immerse herself before. It was odd but very soothing. She scrubbed quickly, but lingered a bit after rinsing her hair, before coming to herself with a start. ‘Foolish!’ she muttered to herself. ‘The poor lad will have cool water to bathe in if I keep on this way.’

She climbed reluctantly from the tub, took the bath sheet Twig held out to her with a smile of thanks, and dressed before the fire in garments finer than any she’d ever worn. ‘Ah, if only Harliburt could see me now,’ she murmured. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘we had better stir ourselves before the water goes completely cold!’

Mum and Twig opened the door cautiously, to find the servant still waiting. ‘I’ll just go and get the other lad,’ Mum said.

’We’ll warm up the tub,’ the servant answered, and Mum’s eyebrows went up. They’d add hot water to the tub? Luxury indeed.

They found Hardy asleep on the thick carpet, head pillowed on Nip’s side. ‘Hardy-lad,’ Mum whispered, taking him by the shoulder. ‘Hardy, it’s time to make yourself presentable.’ He awakened with a start and his mother led him from the room.

Twig wandered about the parlour and then explored the two bed rooms, finding all sorts of comforts that she’d not missed much up until now. Coming back to the parlour, she found a tray had silently appeared with cosied teapot, plates, and cups. She poured out tea for herself and settled on the floor next to Nip to sip and consider.

Late supper arrived together with Mum and Hardy and the three sat down at the little table and fell to with appetites sharpened by the rich surroundings and sumptuous fare. A tap came at the door. Expecting a servant, Mum called out, ‘Enter!’ as if she’d lived in the Great Smials all her life.

The door opened to admit Rudivacar. ‘Uncle Rudi!’ Twig greeted him.

’Estella,’ he said, looking at her quizzically.

’Those were the clothes provided, and I thought it just as well,’ Mum said to him. She made him a courtesy then. ‘Chrysanthemum Took, at your service, sir.’

’And at your family’s,’ Rudivacar answered formally, with a bow. ‘I cannot thank you enough for keeping my niece safe all these months. Things have been very grim in Bridgefields.’ He looked at his niece again, dressed as a lad. ‘Just as well?’

’Tooks like to talk,’ Mum said simply. ‘I thought it best that if Twig arrived as a lad, then Twig might as well continue a lad until you take “him” away to his folks.’

’You probably have the right of it,’ Rudi said thoughtfully.

Twig broke in with an urgent, ‘How’s Merry?’

’He’s asleep,’ Rudi answered. ‘He broke something loose, riding as he did when he ought to have rested a day, and the healer had to stitch him up again. He’ll be well, probably even out chasing ruffians the day after tomorrow.’

’Ah,’ Mum said. ‘Feed ‘im lots of liver, that’s the thing.’

’Indeed,’ Rudi said. ‘I believe that is what they’ll give him.’

Twig shuddered, and her uncle chuckled. ‘By the way,’ Rudi said, ‘I’ve someone who wants to see you.’

’Wants to see me?’ Twig asked incredulously.

’Yes, and I do not know how long he will stay awake, so let us be off,’ Rudi said, but then he turned to Mum. ‘If you don’t mind, madam?’

’Go right ahead,’ Mum said. ‘We’ll just have another cup of tea whilst we’re waiting for you to return Twig to us, and then I’ll tuck the lads into bed and turn in myself. It’s been quite a day.’

’Indeed it has,’ Rudi said. ‘Come along, “Twig”,’ he added, and bowing to Mum, he left the room with niece-lad in tow.

’Who wants to see me?’ Twig asked as they walked.

’A cousin of yours,’ Rudi answered.

’I have lots of cousins at the Smials,’ Twig retorted but her uncle only laughed.

They did not go far before Rudi knocked upon a door that stood slightly ajar. ‘Enter!’ came from within.

’Here we are!’ Rudi announced, pushing the door wide and then shutting it firmly behind them once they were in the room.

Rosemary Bolger looked up from the bed, her eyes narrowing when she saw the lad by Rudi’s side. Finally she said, ‘Twig?’

’In the life!’ Rudi laughed, pushing Twig forward. ‘Safe and sound, thanks to your brother there!’

Twig was staring at the bandage-swathed figure in the bed. Rosemary leaned over now, saying, ‘Ferdi? Ferdi? They’re here.’

The eyes opened hazily, blinking, trying to focus. ‘Come closer,’ Rosemary said. ‘He doesn’t see very well yet. The healers hope his vision will clear, but...’ Rudi pushed Twig before him.

’Twig?’ Ferdi said, blinking at her. Then he smiled. ‘Es... Estell... you’re safe,’ he added.

’That’s the most words you’ve put together yet!’ Rosemary said, pleased.

Estella moved forward of her own accord, taking Ferdi’s good hand in hers. ‘Thank you,’ she said softly, then a mischievous smile lit up her face. ‘I’ve had a simply marvellous time!’

Chapter 25. Midnight Snacks

’Mr Frodo, there’s a message come for you from the Thain,’ Farmer Cotton said softly, bending over the bed with its sleeping hobbits. Frodo had lain himself down upon the bedcovers just as he had during the bone-setting the previous evening, wrapping his arms about Fredegar as Freddy lay gripped in nightmare. As Freddy calmed, both had fallen asleep. Mrs Cotton had thrown a blanket over Mr Frodo to keep him from taking a chill when the rest of the family sought their beds.

The healers had persuaded Odovacar and Rosamunda to go to their own beds and sleep, but faithful Samwise dozed in the chair next to the bed, ready to jump up and fetch anything Mr Frodo might want. He wakened now at the soft words. ‘From the Thain?’ he said. ‘What could it be?’

’I dunno,’ Farmer Cotton said, looking at the missive with dread, ‘but it’s got the seal of the Thain on it clear as can be, and it’s the middle o' the night, and the messenger is a-waiting to take Mr Frodo’s answer back.’

Samwise nodded, and rose from his chair to touch Frodo’s shoulder gently. ‘Mr Frodo?’ he said.

’Hey? What’s that, Sam? Is it time to start?’ Frodo said, startled out of sleep.

’No Mr Frodo, we’re back in the Shire now, at Farmer Cotton’s house,’ Sam said quickly.

’That you are, Mr Frodo, and welcome!’ Farmer Cotton added heartily, for there was something in Sam’s tone...

Frodo’s eyes blinked sleep away. Taking in his surroundings, memory returned. Freddy stirred, moaning, and Frodo held his cousin a little more tightly. ‘It’s all right, Freddy, you’re safe.’

’Home?’ Freddy whispered and Frodo answered instantly.

’No, not home, not for a long time yet, but safe.’

’Safe,’ Freddy echoed, and sighing, he snuggled into the pillows again.

Frodo sat up, but kept a hand on Freddy’s back, a constant reminder of love and reassurance. ‘What is it?’ he asked.

’Message from the Thain,’ Farmer Cotton repeated, holding it out. ‘Must be important, being from the Thain and brought in the middle night.’

’Open it for me, if you please, Master Cotton’ Frodo said, and the farmer, with trepidation, broke the seal. He had never in his life received a sealed letter before, much less held one sealed by the Thain. He was glad to hand off the opened letter to Mr Frodo, for certain.

Frodo read and started up from the bed with an exclamation, only to sink down again.

’What is it?’ Sam asked.

’Merry’s been wounded in a skirmish with ruffians,’ Frodo said, laying the letter down. ‘Thain Paladin writes to me to come.’

’Is he dying!’ Sam said in shock.

’No, the healers seem to think he’ll be well with a few days’ rest and good feeding,’ Frodo said. ‘Were he a Took he’d be out of bed on the morrow, or the day after at the latest.’

’He’s half Took,’ Sam muttered. ‘Are you going?’

Frodo looked down at Freddy. ‘I made a promise,’ he said, and looking up, shook his head. ‘Even were Merry dying, I could not go. Freddy needs me more.’

Sam nodded, understanding, but Farmer Cotton said, ‘We’ll take good care o' the lad, Mr Frodo, if you think you ought to go to Mr Merry.’

’If I could split myself into two pieces, as your Nibs splits the wood for the fire, I might be able to go,’ Frodo said ruefully, ‘but I cannot see my way clear to leaving. I’ll send a reply...’

As he got up from the bed, Freddy stirred and whispered, ‘No. Please, no...’ Frodo immediately stretched himself on top of the bedcovers again, wrapping his arms about Freddy and snuggling close.

’You’re safe, cousin,’ he said. ‘Safe amongst hobbits. The ruffians are gone. Rest easy now.’

’Home?’ Freddy said.

 ‘No, not home, but safe,’ Frodo answered firmly.

’How many times are you going to tell him that?’ Farmer Cotton muttered.

’As many times as it takes,’ Frodo answered. ‘Sam, can you write my reply? Give the Thain my humble thanks for his message, ask him to pass on my regards and best wishes to Merry, and convey my apologies that I cannot come away at this time.’

’That’s an awful lot to remember, Mr Frodo, but I’ll do my best,’ Sam said, his head reeling with all those words.

’Bring it by here before you give it to the messenger and I’ll tell you if you got it right,’ Frodo said. He had every confidence in Samwise, but knew that Sam needed the extra reassurance. If it were a gardening matter, of course, Sam would be cool and confident, but words and writing... you’d never know he’d stood in the presence of the Wise and had great folk bowing to him, Frodo thought fondly.

’Yessir, Mr Frodo,’ Sam said determinedly, and went off with Farmer Cotton in search of paper and ink.

Mrs Cotton came in with a tray, a shawl thrown about her night-dress. ‘I poked up the fire and brewed a pot of tea,’ she said briskly. ‘As long as you have to be up in the middle night we might as well get something warm into you, and I made up some sandwiches for good measure.’ She looked to Freddy. ‘Do you think he could stand some warm milk and honey? I have some here.’

’If he doesn’t drink it, I will,’ Frodo said with a smile. ‘Help me to sit him up.’

Together they slowly coaxed Freddy to drink the contents of the mug, one small sip at a time. ‘He’s as bad as he was when he first arrived, or worse,’ Mrs Cotton said softly. ‘Just what did those ruffians do to him, anyhow?’

’Mrs Cotton, for you own good, I’m not going to tell you,’ Frodo said soberly, and the good farmer’s wife left it at that.

***

’You sent for Frodo?’ Merry said, consternation writ large on his features.

’Of course!’ Thain Paladin snapped. ‘The two of you have always been thick as thieves, and I thought he ought to know.’

’I thank you,’ Merry said with the utmost courtesy, schooling his expression. ‘It was very thoughtful of you, Uncle, and I apologise if I said anything to offend.’

’No offence taken,’ Paladin said, mollified. ‘He ought to be here in time for second breakfast, if not early breakfast. I sent a fast pony along with the messenger, so that he could ride here as quickly as may be.’

’I thank you,’ Merry said, ‘but I doubt he’ll come. Fredegar Bolger is gravely ill, you know, and...’

’Yes, but his Uncle Rudivacar told me how he was improving,’ Paladin said pompously. ‘I’m sure he’ll understand if Frodo wishes to reassure himself you’ve taken no serious harm.’

There was no gainsaying Paladin, so Merry simply said, ‘No doubt.’

The Thain looked down at the tray then, saying, ‘You eat up that liver! When I get back I want every scrap gone, d’you hear?’

’Yes, Uncle,’ Merry said with forced brightness, picking up his fork.

’Would you like me to feed it to you?’ Pearl Took said helpfully as her father left the room.

’No,’ Merry answered ruefully. ‘You’ve hacked it to pieces already. Wouldn’t you like to help me eat it now?’

’No, thank you very much, cousin,’ Pearl said with a shudder. ‘But eat hearty, before my father comes back and stuffs it down your throat.’

’He’d do it, too,’ Merry said glumly, spearing a piece of liver with his fork and lifting it with a grimace towards his mouth.

’Indeed he would,’ Pearl said. ‘He’s very fond of you, Merry, and wants to see you make a quick recovery.’

’If only to get me back out on the field, keeping an eye on that wild son of his,’ Merry muttered.

’There is that as well,’ Pearl said, unruffled, adding, ‘Now eat up, cousin! That’s a lovely piece of liver. Why, my beloved husband would have stolen it from you and consumed all by now, were he not out in the field chasing ruffians.’

’He’s welcome to it,’ Merry said. ‘Where is he? I’ll send the plate out to him.’

’There’s more where that came from!’ Pearl said.

’I was afraid of that,’ Merry answered, and closing his eyes tightly, popped the offending morsel into his mouth.

Pearl laughed at the face Merry made as he swallowed the first bite without chewing. ‘There’s my brave lad,’ she said as if he were five years old again and being coaxed to take a particularly foul-tasting tonic.

Merry ate the disgusting stuff as quickly as he could, finally pushing the empty plate back with a sigh. ‘There,’ he said.

’Bravely done,’ Pearl congratulated him. ‘Now you may go back to sleep for the rest of the night, after you’ve had another glass of water.’

Merry gulped the water, wishing it would wash away the taste of the liver. ‘What’s for breakfast?’ he asked.

’What do you think?’ Pearl said.

’Ugh,’ Merry said with a shudder.

’We’ll make it into an omelette for you,’ Pearl said soothingly.

’Liver omelette,’ Merry muttered. ‘It’s enough to make me get up and get back on my pony and flee to safety. Surely ruffians are naught, compared to matrons bearing platters of liver...’

Pearl laughed and pulled the pillows from behind him, lying him down in the bed. ‘That’s it, cousin,’ she said. ‘Keep your sense of humour and you’ll be out of the bed in no time.’

Chapter 26. This and That

In the morning Freddy was no better, though careful examination of his right hand produced nods and murmurs on the part of the healers.

’I have some breakfast for you, Mr Frodo,’ Samwise said, entering with a tray. Frodo sat up on the bed, keeping a hand on Freddy’s back as he had in the night.

’A bit awkward, this,’ he said.

’Perhaps he’ll let me hold his hand a bit whilst you eat,’ Sam said. The previous day, Freddy had jerked away from all attempts to take his good hand. It was puzzling, and troubling too, for it was common knowledge that when a hobbit was ill or injured, you held his hand and talked or sang to him. Even if he seemed not to hear, you could not leave him to walk in the darkness alone.

The only way Frodo had managed to calm his cousin was to lie down beside him and hold him close, whispering comfort. He’d been there ever since the previous afternoon and Sam thought it was about time for his master to have a rest.

’We can give it a try,’ Frodo said dubiously. He kept his hand on his cousin’s back while Sam reached for Freddy’s left hand. The moment Sam took the hand in his own, however, Freddy tried to pull away, and as Sam’s fingers tightened instinctively the sick hobbit began to thrash and moan. ‘Let go, Sam!’ Frodo said sharply. Abashed, Samwise complied.

Frodo rubbed Freddy’s back, speaking soothingly, and his cousin gradually calmed again. Odovacar had paused in the doorway as Sam had taken Freddy’s hand and now he spoke. ‘Whatever is the matter? I’d’ve thought he’d be over the effects of the sleeping draught by now.’

’It’s not the draught,’ Sam said. A horrid thought had occurred to him just now and he spoke with certainty.

’What, Sam? Not the draught?’ Frodo said. ‘It should have worn off sometime yesterday morning, true, but he’s acting as one under the influence...’

’It’s not the draught,’ Sam repeated more forcefully, powered by the horror that gripped him. ‘Don’t you see, Mr Frodo, that every time someone takes his hand, he thinks—‘

’Thinks what?’ Odo said.

Samwise gulped, his breakfast sitting uneasily in the face of his dark thoughts. ‘He thinks we’re a-going to start breaking the fingers on that hand!’

’O Sam!’ Frodo breathed, horror in his own eyes before he closed them to shut out the sight of his cousin’s splinted and bandaged right hand, and the left, curled protectively and pulled close to Freddy’s body.

Odovacar broke the silence. ‘Well, then, we cannot torment him by holding his hand,’ he said. Trust ruffians to turn comfort into torment, he raged inwardly. He had a most unhobbitlike urge to break a few ruffian fingers, but that wouldn’t help Freddy, and poor Frodo had been tied to the bed for all practical purposes since the previous afternoon.

’Let me try,’ Odo said now, sitting down on the bed, placing his hand on Freddy’s back next to Frodo’s and beginning to rub gently. ‘You take care of your needs, Frodo, and I’ll watch with him for the morning.’

Freddy moaned as Frodo took away his hand and rose from the bed, but before Frodo could sit down again, Odo had stretched himself out next to his son and taken Freddy in his arms. ‘It’s all right, son,’ he said. ‘You’re safe.’

’Home?’ Freddy murmured, not opening his eyes.

’No,’ Odo said quickly and Frodo relaxed. ‘Not home, not for a good while yet, but you’re safe, Freddy-lad.’

’Safe,’ Freddy whispered, lying calm again.

Odo looked up. ‘Go take care of your own needs, lad,’ he said again to Frodo. ‘I’ll watch with him here. Finch and Anise are going to try to get some food into him every hour, starting as soon as Mrs Cotton’s custard comes out of the oven, and I’ll stay right with him.’

’Thank you, Odo,’ Frodo said, stretching. He was stiff after the long vigil.

’I owe you the thanks,’ Odo said then turned his attention back to his son.

’Your breakfast has gone cold, Mr Frodo,’ Samwise said regretfully. ‘Mrs Cotton was getting a bath ready for you, so you could have a good soak after you ate. How about if you seek the bath now and I bring you a fresh tray?’

’Thank you, Samwise, that would just suit,’ Frodo said. He took a last glance back into the room where Freddy slept peacefully in his father’s arms, and then allowed Sam to lead him to the bath room.

***

Happily for the messenger, the Thain had already departed with his troop of archers when Frodo’s refusal arrived at the Great Smials. At a loss, he brought the message to Reginard and was gratefully dismissed. He ought to have volunteered to fight ruffians, he thought ruefully. Much less dangerous than braving the Thain’s temper.

Rudivacar was breakfasting with Merry when Reginard entered the room. Rudi even managed a liver omelette in an attempt to help Merry face his own breakfast somehow, though he washed it down with cups and cups of tea.

’I have here a message from Frodo,’ Reginard said.

’Who’s it for?’ Merry asked.

’For the Thain, actually, but happily he’s already gone,’ Reginard said. ‘You’re the next logical candidate, since the message concerns you.’

’As I recall, Uncle Paladin sent for Frodo last night; he was to arrive in time for breakfast. I was so looking forward to sharing a liver omelette with him,’ Merry said.

’Perhaps he knew about the liver omelette,’ Reginard said. ‘He’s not coming.’

’Not coming! Not coming to succour me in my hour of need?’ Merry said facetiously. ‘Whatever is the matter with my cousin?’

’I think the matter lies elsewhere,’ Reginard said with a look at Rudivacar. ‘I’m sorry to say there’s bad news about your nephew.’

’Freddy?’ Rudi said getting up and seizing the note Reginard held, not worrying about rudeness. He and Regi had known each other for years after all. He read quickly.

’What is it?’ Merry asked, sitting up a little straighter.

Rudi fixed him with a stern eye. ‘You stay in that bed,’ he said, ‘or I’ll tell the cooks you loved that omelette so much you begged me to bring you another.’

’Hah!’ was Merry’s rejoinder, but he stayed put. ‘What is it?’

’Frodo writes—though it does not look like his writing at all—that Freddy is too ill for him to leave his side at the moment,’ Rudi said, glancing through the contents of the page.

’Too ill,’ Merry said. ‘D’you think he’s just ducking the Thain’s hospitality?’

’No, there’d be no gain in it, and much harm, possibly. He’s tried to stay on Paladin’s good side in order to have some influence over him when it comes to the lad, you know,’ Regi said shrewdly.

Merry nodded. It was true. Frodo could often deflect some of Paladin’s ill-humour from his son and with a clever phrase turn disapproval into praise.

’I had better take my precious cargo back to Bywater at once then,’ Rudi said.

’You do that,’ Merry answered. ‘Take some liver along with you as a present for Frodo. Perhaps if you take enough they’ll run short in the kitchens.’

’Precious cargo?’ Regi asked.

’Ah, yes,’ Rudi said, putting a finger to the side of his nose. Regi nodded, remembering that Rudi had come in search of a lass and ended up with a lad in tow. Putting two and two together, he smiled. He wouldn’t be the one to fan the flames of gossip.

’Give my best to Frodo and Sam, and Freddy, of course,’ Merry said.

’I will,’ Rudi said. ‘You do a better job of ducking arrows now.’

’I will,’ Merry echoed.

As Rudi turned towards the door, he collided with Merimac Brandybuck. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked in astonishment.

’Thain Paladin sent a message that Merry’d been wounded,’ Merimac said grimly. ‘I was on my way here to see the Fox anyhow, and intercepted the news of his near-escape from death this side of Woody End, well before it reached my brother. I came to see what’s what before alarming Saradoc. Paladin always did go in for dramatic flair.’

’I’m fine,’ Merry said from the bed. ‘Hullo, Uncle Badger.’

’You look well, for someone as white as the pillows he’s resting against,’ Merimac retorted. He sniffed. ‘What’s that? Liver? Got any more where that came from?’

’As a matter of fact,’ Merry said, shoving the tray towards his uncle, ‘I find I cannot eat another bite. Would you like some liver omelette?’

’Don’t mind if I do,’ Merimac said, taking up a serviette and tucking it under his chin.

***

Rudi found Mum, Hardy and Twig breakfasting in their suite, a much more promising meal of eggs, bacon, freshly-baked pastries, and all the necessary accompaniments.

’Come join us,’ Mum said, indicating an empty chair. ‘They’ve given us much more than we can manage.’

’Hullo, Uncle Rudi,’ Twig said through a mouthful.

’Hullo, Twig,’ Rudi replied pleasantly, sitting down and loading his plate. ‘How’d you like to take a little journey with me today?’

’A little journey?’ Twig said.

’Yes,’ he said, eyeing the servant hovering with the teapot. Twig followed his glance and nodded.

’Thain Paladin has been so kind,’ Mum said obliquely. ‘He’s said we can stay until the ruffians are driven out. He’d offered to release my husband and sons from service, that they might rebuild our hole and farm, but I told him that would be a disgrace! ...and he agreed with me, wonderful hobbit that he is.’ She did not look at the servants but was certain that every word was being noted.

’It won’t be long before the ruffians are gone,’ Rudi said smoothly. ‘Merry seemed to think they’d have the job done before Year’s End.’

’And a good thing, too!’ Mum said stoutly, nodding thanks as her teacup was refilled. ‘Sweep them out with the rest of the refuse, start a new year off right!’

They continued to make small talk as they ate, having their plates and teacups replenished by the two silent servants sent to attend them. Nip enjoyed frequent bites under the table as well, from the hands of Twig and Hardy.

’Well, I’ll just take Twig off to his own family now,’ Rudi said, wiping his mouth and throwing down his serviette.

’Say fare-thee-well to your cousin, Hardy,’ Mum prompted, getting up from her chair.

’Fare-thee-well, Twig,’ Hardy said obediently. ‘Don’t shoot any crooked arrows.’

’Don’t dig any crooked holes,’ Twig responded cheerily.

Mum enveloped Twig in a great hug. ‘You’ve been a good lad,’ she said, ‘every bit as good as one of my own, and don’t you never forget it!’

’I won’t,’ Twig said, returning the hug.

’Are we ready?’ Rudi said.

’Ready as I’ll ever be,’ Twig answered, but bent to give Nip a hug as well. ‘Goodbye, you old growler.’ Nip growled in reply, and Twig manfully sniffed back a threatening tear. ‘Let’s go.’

Twig marched out the door, straight and slim. ‘There goes a fine lad,’ one of the servants said softly to the other. ‘He’ll grow into a good, sturdy Took I’ll wager.’

For some reason, Hardy had a coughing fit and Mum had to hide her face in her serviette, but soon she was asking for a final cup of tea before the servants cleared away.

Chapter 27. Wakening Once More

Number Seventy-four lay in some dreadful place that was the Lockholes and yet was not. This was one of the wizard’s most vibrant dreams, in which the prisoner not only saw a whitewashed ceiling above and heard the voices of loved ones, but felt warm softness cocooning him, instead of the chilly harshness of the bare stones beneath him.

It was the wizard’s dream, and yet... in the previous dreams someone took his hand to comfort him, and then there would be searing pain. In this dream, he was cradled and comforted, and warm! He did not know when last he had felt warm... When the feeling of safety left him, he knew the pain was about to start again and begged for mercy. No more the daring leader of a rebel band, he was simply Number Seventy-four, waiting for release, waiting for the wizard to tire of His game.

’When will Estella come, do you think?’ came the voice of the dream-Rosamunda. Why, didn’t she see? Estella was right over there, demure and smiling. Estella, demure? In the wizard’s vision, she was. In the wizard’s vision, his family crowded round him, their faces sorrowful and loving, speaking gentle words—and then would come the assault of pain. He wished he could blot it all out, the comfort as well, for it only made the following agony that much harder to bear.

’That depends on whether Ferdi was awake and aware enough to tell Rudi anything,’ Odovacar answered. Ferdi? Who was Ferdi? He had yet to appear in the dreams the  Voice of the wizard wove for Number Seventy-four.

’I keep listening for ponies’ feet,’ dream-Rosamunda said, and dream-Odovacar agreed. The wizard was certainly obliging this day; Number seventy-four heard a clatter outside the window as she spoke. He felt a dull surprise--he could not recall a window in the earlier dream.

Rudi and Twig rode into the Cottons’ yard, pulling up before the wide steps. They were met by Young Tom, who came out of the barn to take their ponies.

’Didn’t you find her, then?’ Tom asked, seeing that Rudi had brought a lad with him, dressed in fine clothing, a Took of the Great Smials more than likely.

’O yes,’ Rudi said, ‘indeed. Twig here was a great help to me in finding her.’

The lad nodded gravely to Tom, who smiled and bowed.

’Tom Cotton, at your service,’ he said.

’And at your family’s,’ Twig answered with a bow of his own, though he did not give his full name.

’Come along, Twig,’ Rudi said, giving the lad a little push towards the steps. ‘They’re waiting for us.’

They walked up the steps and into the house. Mrs Cotton was bent over the oven, testing a cake, and heard rather than saw them come in. ‘I’ll be right with you!’ she said cheerily.

 Rudivacar answered, ‘It’s just me, Mrs Cotton, Rudi Bolger. I’d heard Freddy was poorly so I’ve returned sooner than I thought.’

’Ah,’ Mrs Cotton said, frowning at her cake tester. ‘You’d best go and see him right away then. It’s true, he’s right poorly at the moment.’

Rudi nodded soberly, grabbing Twig’s arm and leading her rapidly from the kitchen. At the bedroom door, she hung back, apprehension plain on her face. ‘Come along,’ Rudi said, firmly but kindly. ‘There’s no easy way to do this.’ She swallowed hard and nodded, and he pushed the door open and entered. Rosamunda was stretched out on the bed, holding Freddy close, and Odovacar sat nearby with his hand on Freddy’s arm.

’I come bearing a surprise,’ Rudi said cheerfully, though his heart was wrung with grief at the sight of his nephew, scarcely breathing, eyes half-open staring at nothing. Behind him he heard Estella catch her breath in a sob.

’Freddy!’ the girl whispered. ‘O Freddy, what have they done to you?’ She stumbled forward, throwing herself onto the figure on the bed, clinging and weeping. Rosamunda sat up, staring.

But... this was not the dream-Estella at all--prim and proper, sweet and smiling--but dressed as a lad with rough-cropped curls and strong arms that clung to him tightly.

’Estella?’ Rosamunda said incredulously, taking in the cropped curls and lad’s clothing. In another moment, she’d thrown her arms about the girl, and Odo had joined the embrace. They clung together for a long moment before Freddy’s voice was heard.

’Do someone please tell me what’s going on! Why is everyone piled atop me? Don’t they have enough beds here, you’ve started using me as a mattress?’

’Freddy,’ Rosamunda gasped. ‘You’ve come back to us!’

’Back?’ Freddy said, puzzled. ‘Have I been away?’ No one answered the question, but Odovacar returned to his chair, taking the hand Freddy held out to him, and Rosa sat up on the bed, with Estella beside her. ‘Estella,’ he said finally, after a long look at his sister. ‘What have you done to your hair?’

’Don’t you remember?’ Estella said with well-feigned cheer. ‘Rosemary Bolger cut it!’ She swallowed hard. Freddy was so thin, with his sunken cheeks and the dark hollows under his eyes, she wanted to burst into tears on the spot, but she settled for running her fingers through her hair to make it stand up straight on her head, a comical sight she knew from looking in the mirror in the suite at the Great Smials.

’I know that, but that was months ago,’ Freddy said. ‘Oughtn’t it to have grown out by now?’

Though there were tears in her eyes, Estella sat straighter and kept her smile firmly in place. Lifting a hand to the back of her head, she bounced the curls in her palm. ‘I don’t know,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘It’s so easy and light this way, and if I forget to brush it you’d hardly notice! I think I ought to keep it just this way, don’t you?’

’But your clothes,’ Freddy went on.

Estella looked down. ‘You can blame that on the Tooks,’ she said haughtily. ‘They took away my own clothes when I was in the bath and left these in their place. Some fine joke, I’d say!’ For a wonder, Freddy laughed.

Frodo came in blinking sleepily. ‘What’s the ruckus?’ he asked, immediately noticing that Freddy was sitting up, awake and aware. ‘You’re making enough noise in here to waken the dead!’

’Estella’s returned and is trying to turn everything downside-up again already,’ Freddy said. He pulled his hand free of Odovacar’s and held it out to his sister. She took it and allowed him to draw her close for a kiss on the cheek. ‘It is good to see you, Babe,’ he said.

’Indeed, Gaffer,’ she returned with a kiss of her own, ‘it is good to be here.’

’Well,’ said Rosamunda, ‘let us find you some proper clothes. Perhaps Rosie might have something...’ Estella sighed but maintained her bright smile. Skirts again, when breeches were so much more comfortable and free. Ah, well, she thought. I’ll manage, somehow. I always do. She gave Freddy’s hand a gentle squeeze and released it, took her mother’s hand, and allowed herself to be led from the room.

’Freddy!’ Frodo said. ‘It’s good to see you awake, finally. Are you hungry?’

’No,’ Freddy answered. ‘But that hasn’t stopped anyone up until now. Bring on the food.’

Estella, dressed in one of Rose’s frocks and with a bright ribbon tied around her cropped curls, arrived at the same time as the tray of food. Under her relentless onslaught of cheerful nonsense Freddy polished off the meal and found himself asking for more.

Samwise met Frodo coming out of the room with a broad smile on his face, still chuckling at one of Estella’s outrageous remarks. ‘Things are better then?’ he asked hopefully.

’Much improved, Sam,’ Frodo said. ‘He’s back to where he was before...’ he didn’t want to say it, and Sam nodded, not needing to hear. ‘I think you can go back and see to the repairs at Bag End, now.’

Sam nodded. Mr Frodo meant that he wouldn’t be wearing himself out in worry over his cousin, and Sam could relax his vigilance. ‘Very good, Mr Frodo,’ he said. ‘I’ll get right on it.'

Chapter 28. The Well-Groomed Gaffer

Freddy continued to improve physically as the days passed, though the hobbits around him avoided mention of certain words, "home" the chief among them. Estella kept her brother's mind occupied, and care of Freddy kept her so well occupied that she hardly turned the Cotton farm downside-up at all... only a little, just enough to make Mrs Cotton smile and murmur about "high spirits" and Farmer Cotton shake his head a bit, thankful for his own Rosie's solid good sense.

Sam returned from the Hill each evening with a progress report, and with Freddy doing so well under Estella’s constant badgering Frodo felt free to accompany him up the Hill on occasion, once to see the sheltered garden the hobbits had made of the remains of Bagshot Row, and another time to see the beginnings of the diggings that would become cosy hobbit holes.

The repairs to Bag End were troublesome: there was an unpleasant odour pervading the smials, and Samwise finally ordered the broken windows and doors to be removed completely to insure as much fresh air as possible. The workers took up all the rugs, took down all the hangings and curtains, and removed all the furniture, basically reducing the smials to bare walls and ceiling, which they scrubbed and whitewashed, and bare floors which they sanded and scrubbed and refinished.

’D’you think Mistress Lobelia wants any of this?’ Samwise asked Frodo, surveying the salvaged articles. Although he was of the “Use it up, wear it out, make do or do without” school of thinking, he could not see much use in the battered bits and pieces.

’No,’ Frodo said slowly. ‘I’ll write to ask her, but...’ he shook his head. Her much-vaunted collection of antiques was now a collection of junk, suitable for the ash heap but not much else. The carpets were a total loss, stained and reeking with an awful stench.

Inside the smials workhobbits were sanding the woodwork, preparatory to refinishing it. Sam had ordered the shelves in Bilbo’s study ripped off the walls and burned; new shelves would be built, matching the originals as closely as possible. He had also had hobbits tear out the cupboards in various rooms and the mantelpieces with their nasty scrawls and pictures that looked to have been scratched into the wood with knife or some other sharp object, too deep to easily sand away, and these would be replaced as well. Sam was determined that when the work was finished and Mr Frodo’s things fetched back from Crickhollow, there would be no sign that he’d ever left the place, even if it took until Mid-year’s day of the new year to accomplish it all.

Merry and Pippin arrived after supper on the last day of November. Estella, having gone to bed early with an aching head missed them, but the rest of the family were overjoyed to see them, and they were pleased as well to see the progress Freddy had made since their last visit. The mail-clad Travellers (only Pippin saw fit to notice aloud that Frodo and Sam had gone back to ordinary attire; Merry was much too polite) sat up late, gathered with their relatives and the Cottons around the bed and the little hearth in Freddy’s room, talking about their travels over the Shire, chasing out the ruffians.

When they’d answered everyone’s questions, Frodo told about the restoration of Bagshot Row and the planning for repairs to Bag End, and Sam talked about plans for replanting trees and lawns and gardens and fields. Farmer Cotton and his sons recounted how they had finished repairing the buildings on the farm and were helping their neighbours with their own repairs. Everywhere in the Shire, it seemed, hobbits were busy as bees tearing down the works left by the ruffians and repairing hobbit habitations.

’Is it as bad in other places as it is in Bywater?’ Sam asked when there was a lull in the conversation.

’How do you mean, Samwise?’ Merry asked, drawing on his pipe.

Sam blushed. ‘I mean, trees all cut down and gardens dug up or left full of weeds,’ he said. ‘The Shire gone all brown where it used to be green, and all.’

Merry gave this question sober consideration. ‘Everywhere but Tookland,’ he said finally, ‘has suffered the touch of the ruffians, and Saruman’s malice. He did his best in the little time he had to ruin the Shire as we ruined Isengard.’

’We didn’t ruin Isengard,’ Pippin said indignantly. ‘He did a fine job of that before we arrived and washed it clean!’

’You know what I mean, Pippin,’ Merry said patiently, but Pippin wasn’t through being argumentative.

’And it wasn’t a little time,’ Pippin said tightly.

’He arrived in September,’ Merry countered, keeping his tone calm with an effort.

’His Men arrived a lot sooner than that, and Lotho was working under his direction,’ Pippin argued.

’Peace,’ Frodo broke in, holding up his hands. ‘You sound as bad as orcs.’

Merry apologised immediately, but Pippin sulked until Rosie Cotton brought him a plate of bread slices and a toasting fork and asked him sweetly if he’d make some toast for his cousin Freddy? She’d heard the rumour that the Thain had publicly upbraided his son for some failing or other despite all the hard work the Travellers were doing throwing the ruffians out of the Shire, and she hoped to distract Mr Pippin from his bad humour. He began to toast a slice of bread with frowning intensity.

’I was wondering about this box, here,’ Sam said to divert Pippin from his angry mood, bringing out the treasure he’d carried to Mordor and back. ‘The one the Lady gave me.’ As he’d hoped, Pippin brightened with curiosity, putting down the fork and picking up the box to examine it on all sides. ‘What do you think it is, and what should I do with it?’

’I wondered when you would think of it,’ said Frodo with a smile. ‘Open it!’

They all gathered round Sam as he gently pried the lid off. It resisted at first, then gave suddenly with a small popping noise, so suddenly that he nearly spilt the contents, catching himself just in time. Inside it was filled with a soft, fine grey dust. He picked some up between finger and thumb, letting it trickle back into the box. ‘Finer than sand,’ he said in wonder.

’Don’t breathe on it, you’ll blow it all away,’ Pippin warned. ‘What’s that in the middle?’ He pointed to something that they decided was a seed, like a small nut with a silver shale. Sam carefully lifted it from its soft resting place, shaking any clinging grains of dust back into the box, and examined it. Merry held out a hand, and Sam placed it gently in his palm.

Merry looked at it from all sides, ran a thumbnail around the crack without trying to pry it open, hefted it in his hand. ‘It’s like nothing I’ve seen, not even in the Old Forest,’ he said.

’Let me see,’ Pippin demanded. Looking to Sam for permission, Merry handed the seed to Pippin, who took it with great care for all his reckless ways and handled it as delicately as anyone. Slowly the seed was passed from hand to hand, even the Cottons wanting a look. At last it came to Freddy. Watching his cousin’s face as he held the silver seed, Frodo saw lines of care drop away, as if the goodness of Lorien settled for the moment on Fredegar, driving away the shadows. Then Freddy handed the seed back to Sam, and the moment passed.

Sam put the seed carefully back into its dusty resting place and sat a moment in silence, looking at the contents of the box. ‘What can I do with this?’ he said at last.

’Throw it in the air on a breezy day and let it do its work!’ said Pippin, ever impetuous.

’On what?’ Sam asked practically. He still had no idea what the dust was, or what it was for, and said so.

’Choose one spot as a nursery, and see what happens to the plants there,’ said pragmatic Merry.

A frown furrowed Sam’s brow as he shook his head. ‘But I’m sure the Lady would not like me to keep it all for my own garden, now so many folk have suffered,’ Sam said, thinking of what Merry had reported. The whole Shire was as bad as Bywater, Sam thought soberly. The whole of the Shire, come to ruin. His vision in the Mirror of Galadriel had become reality. Would the Shire ever be green again?

Frodo had been watching his face intently. He too remembered the Mirror. Now he spoke softly, persuasively. ‘Use all the wits and knowledge you have of your own, Sam, and then use the gift to help your work and better it.’ Sam nodded, looking into the box, such a little bit of dust to ask so much of it. Frodo went on, guessing his thought, ‘And use it sparingly. There is not much here, and I expect every grain has a value.’

On the First of December, several notable things happened. Odovacar and Rosamunda, with their son recovering nicely and their daughter firmly in charge of his care, left before dawn, to travel to Bridgefields to check on the hobbits living there, and to see how the repairs on Budge Hall were coming along. They had told Freddy the night before that they’d be leaving to make a visit to Buckland, neglecting to tell him they’d be stopping off home along the way, though they did say they hoped to be back within a week.

Merry and Pippin also left before dawn. They figured that they’d be chasing ruffians perhaps another fortnight, but that the Shire would be clear well before the Yuletide celebration started. Merry’s arm was still a bit sore, but he’d left off the sling and had been out in the field a good ten days previous to the visit, hunting down elusive ruffians, slaying those who resisted and escorting the ones who surrendered to the Bounds and over. Now they were on their way back to the Great Smials, to check on Ferdibrand Took (who, like Freddy, was improving steadily), and to gather their troops for another sweep.

First thing in the morning, Freddy awakened to the feeling of hands unbuttoning his shirt, but this time, instead of stretching sleepily and lying passive and compliant while the hands ministered to his needs, he reached with his left hand to grab at the fingers, hearing an exclamation of surprise from Mrs Cotton.

’Leave hold, lad, we’re going to give you a nice wash and—‘

’No,’ Freddy said firmly, opening his eyes to see Mrs Cotton’s astonished face. ‘Thank you, but no,’ he said more politely.

’Now Mr Freddy,’ she began, and he shook his head.

’You are not going to give me a nice wash,’ he said stubbornly.

Frodo spoke up from the doorway. ‘What’re you about, cousin?’

’They’re not going to give me a nice wash,’ Freddy repeated.

Mrs Cotton put her hands on her hips. ‘Mr Freddy, I’ve a husband and grown sons, not to mention I’ve been helping to tend you ever since they brought you in here. You need a wash and you’re going to get one.’

’Frodo,’ Freddy said, releasing Mrs Cotton’s hand to reach out for his cousin. Frodo crossed quickly from the door and took his hand.

’What is it, Freddy?’ he said. After three weeks of hourly feeding during the day and several small meals at night, Freddy was beginning to fill out. He was still terribly thin, but no longer looked cadaverous, and his handclasp was growing stronger.

’I want a bath,’ Freddy said. ‘A proper bath, in a tub, without a lot of folk undressing and dressing me and fussing over me as if I were a babe.’

’A bath,’ Frodo repeated, meeting Mrs Cotton’s eyes, then looking down again. ‘I think we can manage that, Freddy. Give us a few moments.’

’Take all the time you need,’ Freddy said, settling back on the pillows now that he’d got his own way.

It took more than a few moments to fill and heat the coppers of water on the stove, but finally the large tub in the bath room was filled with steaming water and Frodo and Rudivacar stationed themselves by Freddy’s bed, ready to help him up.

’You’re not going to carry me,’ Freddy ordered.

’We’re not, eh?’ Frodo answered, delighted at these signs of new life in his cousin. ‘Do tell, what are we going to do?’

’I’m going to walk,’ Freddy announced.

’Do we watch while you fall on your nose, or are we allowed to assist you?’ Rudivacar said, carefully exhibiting no more than idle curiosity.

’Shall we place a wager on how far he manages to go on his own?’ Frodo asked with a grin.

’Don’t be an ass!’ Freddy said. Concentrating fiercely, he swung his legs to the side of the bed and slowly sat up. Shaky but triumphant, he took a few deep breaths. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘I’m ready.’

Frodo and Rudi each took an arm, helped him to stand, and accompanied his shuffling progress down the hallway to the bath room. Confronted with the high-sided tub, he sighed. ‘Very well,’ he said softly. ‘I could use some help from here on out.’

Frodo and Rudi quickly divested him of his night-shirt and lifted him into the tub, careful to keep the right hand with its bandages and splints clear of the water. Freddy sighed again, this time a sigh of contentment, and leaned his head back against the tub. ‘Honestly,’ he said, ‘I cannot imagine a more pleasant feeling than this.’

Frodo held his right hand clear of the water while Rudi handed him a soapy flannel so that he might scrub himself and then his uncle soaped and rinsed his hair for good measure. ‘You could use a good shearing,’ Rudi said when he’d finished.

Frodo felt Freddy stiffen. ‘Cousin?’ he asked softly.

’It’s nothing,’ Freddy snapped, but his breathing was ragged.

’Let’s get you out of the tub before you take a chill,’ was all Rudi said, meeting Frodo’s eyes with a worried frown, though his tone was determinedly cheerful. They lifted him from the tub, towelled him dry, robed him in a fresh night-shirt, and accompanied him back to the bed room, where they tucked him up once more.

’Ah,’ Freddy sighed. ‘Nothing like a brisk walk of an early morning to stimulate the appetite.’

’You’re hungry, then,’ Rudi said, pleased.

’No,’ Freddy said, ‘but I may pretend, mayn’t I?’

Estella had been apprised of the situation and had kept a discreet watch on the shuffle back to the bed room, peering around the edge of the kitchen door. Now she appeared with a tray, plopping it onto Freddy’s lap. ‘Breakfast!’ she carolled. ‘I asked the chickens to lay especially tasty eggs for the Gaffer this morning, and they all said they would.’

’Did the pigs promise tasty ham?’ Freddy wanted to know.

’No, they were rather reluctant to talk to me, for some reason,’ Estella said, ‘but the ham is tasty for all that.’ She cut off a large piece of ham and without further ceremony stuffed it into Freddy’s mouth. He chewed, swallowed, opened his mouth to say he could feed himself, thank you very much, only to be assaulted by another forkful, and yet another.

’It seems Estella has things well in hand,’ Frodo said, ‘so I will leave you for the nonce.’ Freddy tried to protest, but couldn’t get a word out in between onslaughts of food, and so he decided to give in as gracefully as he could and get the meal over with.

He settled back and closed his eyes when his sister took the tray back to the kitchen. He was just drifting off into a pleasant haze when he heard her voice again, close at hand. ‘Hold still, you old Gaffer, you,’ she said. ‘This won’t take but a few moments.’ He felt a comb pulled through his hair, and then heard the distinct snip, snip of scissors.

’What are you about, Babe?’ he said, stiffening and opening his eyes.

’I’m cutting your hair,’ Estella said firmly. ‘I can hardly tell what colour your eyes are any more.’ She carefully refrained from referring to shears or sheep, and Freddy relaxed, but only slightly. This was Estella, after all. When younger, she’d cut his hair, and Frodo’s, while they slept, and the two of them had had to wear caps for more than a few days until the hair grew out again.

She had him sit up so that she could trim the back of his head as well, and then Frodo helped him stand up from the bed for a moment. It seemed that while he was in the bath, Estella had laid a sheet over the pillows, and now she simply whisked this off the bed with its load of trimmings. ‘There you have it, Gaffer!’ she crowed triumphantly. ‘All clean and cosy!’

In truth, he did feel lighter and freer. He wondered why nobody had thought to give him a haircut before this. He asked for a cup of tea, which they were delighted to provide, and then he settled back for a nap in the short time he had until they would waken him to feed him again.

Chapter 29. Very Short Pause

Samwise closed the Red Book with a sigh.

'And so Bag End was to be renewed, and the Shire as well,' Rosie-lass said. She and her family, hearing that Samwise was still at Undertowers, had come from Greenholm for a brief visit. 'And the mallorn seed! Mr Frodo gave many more details than what he finally wrote in the Red Book.'

Her husband Leot looked up from where he leaned against her knee, their littlest fast asleep in his lap with thumb firmly in mouth. Time for bed, he mouthed, and she pouted prettily. Not for me! Unless... she mouthed back at him, and he chuckled softly enough not to waken the little one.

'I'm sure it was disheartening for him to misplace so much that he'd written,' Fastred said. He looked at his cold pipe as if seeing it for the first time. He'd been so interested in the story, he'd forgot to draw on the pipe and it had gone out only half-done.

'Are we finished for the night?' Elanor asked, putting down her needle.

'Not quite,' Sam said quietly, 'but let us put the littlest ones to bed.'

There was a chorus of protest at this, but Sam was firm and Fastred enforced the gran-dad's edict, promising a story of his own fashioning the next day if they went quietly now. Rosie and Leot settled their own littlest ones all tumbled together in the borrowed bed, and returned to the parlour with their older children.

At last, the fire renewed and fresh tea poured, Sam opened the book again. 'This part is what makes me wonder if Mr Frodo lost these pages "accidentally a-purpose",' he said. 'It makes me shake my head, to think of such evil, and in the Shire, even if it came from the outside and not from the hearts of hobbits! It makes me understand Mr Merry a little better, how he never spoke of what happened to him on the Quest, the terrible things he saw, and how he argued with Mr Frodo about how the History ought to be wrote down.'

'Do you think it's fit for our ears?' Elanor asked soberly.

Sam considered, his fingers caressing the Red Book, then nodded. 'I've read it over and over again, considering. I think Mr Frodo might've thrown the pages on the fire, but that he couldn't make up his own mind. I remember him saying once, when he came to supper pale and drained, "There is evil in the world, Samwise. Hobbits must know of it, so that they recognize and can stand firm against it, but they must not know it intimately lest it find purchase in their hearts.*" No, he actually said that more than once. It was important to him that hobbits know the History without being tainted by it.'

'Let me see that a moment,' Fastred said, getting up and going over to Sam. His father-in-love took his hand from the book, and Fastred turned the leaves over with thoughtful care.

'Every page but the title page is a fair copy,' he said slowly. 'These are not draughts, Sam-dad, but written without changes or corrections. Your Mr Frodo took the time to compose these pages and then copy them over again when he had everything to his satisfaction. If he took such care, then oughtn't we to honour his effort?'

Sam nodded. 'When you put it that way, Fas...' He turned back to the page where he'd left off and began once more to read.

*** 

* Thanks go to FantasyFan for this suggested phrasing.

Chapter 30. So Much to be Done

Frodo encouraged Samwise to go out and start his tree-planting at once, before the hard cold of January came. ‘I imagine you can accomplish quite a bit, with the whole month of December before you,’ he said, and Sam nodded, a determined light in his eyes.

The work on Bag End would continue without him, for the planning was finished and the workers knew what was needed. They worked away with a will for the Deputy Mayor, cousin to the two stalwarts who were driving the ruffians out of the Shire.

’The planning for all the labours of repair have been finished, not just finished plans, but the plans set going,’ Sam said, and Mr Frodo clapped him on the back.

’You’ve done a fine job, Samwise. If you do half as well with your forestry work, the Shire will be greener than before.’

’What’ll you do with yourself, Mr Frodo? Who’ll look after you?’ Sam asked a little anxiously. He couldn’t imagine leaving Mr Frodo without someone to “do” for him.

’Why, Samwise, I’ll stay right here at the Cottons’ with Freddy! They’ve taken such care of us, I might stay here forever and sell Bag End...’

’Sell Bag End!’ Samwise protested, then realised that Frodo was joking. He was glad to hear Mr Frodo joke, it was almost as if he had the dear old master from brighter days back with him. His laugh joined Frodo’s quiet chuckle, and he made so bold as to slap his master gently on the back. ‘That was a good one Mr Frodo, you nearly had me there,’ he said good-naturedly.

’Now that Freddy’s so much better I’ll be able to turn my hand to writing,’ Frodo added. ‘I’ll be quite busy, you see, Samwise. No need to worry about me sitting and brooding, with so much to be done!’

Sam wanted to protest, but the truth of the matter was he was worried somehow that Mr Frodo might do just that, sit and brood. Frodo had been too busy watching over Mr Freddy to worry about his own troubles, however, and Sam had hopes that if his master just kept himself involved in helping others he’d be able to leave the past behind and start fresh and new-like.

’Well I’ll see you when I get back!’ Sam said at last, and got into the waggon. Young Tom released his hold on the ponies when Sam chirruped to start them off. He raised his hand in farewell and the Cottons broke into a song to bless the start of his journey.

Rose wiped a tear from her eye as she turned away. Sam had still not spoken, and she wondered if he ever would. It would have served him right, the last time Mr Merry came, if she’d accepted him when he got down on one knee before her entire family and Mr Frodo and Sam and laughing Mr Pippin, begging her to put him out of his misery and say, “Yes”.

In Freddy’s room Estella had just finished clearing her brother’s plate, and she sat back now with a sigh of satisfaction, twitching the serviette from its tucking place under his chin. ‘There,’ she said. ‘I do believe we’ll make a new Gaffer of you yet, old Gaffer!’

Freddy patted his stomach. ‘If I don’t burst in the effort, Babe,’ he said placidly.

’Hah,’ Estella said, measuring him with a critical eye. ‘You’ve room for five or six more bites, I’d say.’

Freddy held up his left hand to stave her off. ‘Please!’ he said, laughing. ‘Don’t you go telling Mrs Cotton anything of the sort!’ He eyed her more closely. ‘You’re different,’ he said. ‘Why are you different?’

Estella looked down at herself. ‘I’m wearing a dress?’ she said dryly.

’No,’ Freddy said, ‘I noticed that difference a few days ago... though your hair is starting to grow out. It... it looks more like you.’ The boyish Estella had broken the wizard’s spell that held him in thrall, being so different from the Estella in the dream He had woven for his helpless prisoner. Now looking at his sister he felt a pang of alarm. What if the dream were returning?

’Freddy!’ Estella said with a quizzical laugh. ‘What’s got into you?’ She took his outstretched hand in hers only to have him jerk his hand away, still staring. ‘Freddy?’

’Get away from me,’ he said in a tight voice.

Though she was frightened Estella gave her best impression of annoyance, putting her hands on her hips and tapping one foot. ‘Fredegar Bolger! What in the world do you think you’re doing?’

’Stay away,’ he said desperately, cradling his right hand close to him with his left.

Estella stepped back at a loss, then sudden inspiration struck her and she went quickly to the door. ‘Frodo!’ she called. ‘Frodo!’

Frodo quickened his steps at her call; he’d already entered the house and was coming to check on Freddy. ‘What is it, cousin?’ he asked. Something was wrong: Estella had dropped her attitude of mischievous cheer and tears stood in her eyes.

’He doesn’t know me,’ she said. ‘All of a sudden, he—‘ Frodo put her gently away and went into the room.

’What’s all this, Freddy?’ he asked, but his cousin turned a blank stare on him and would not answer.

’Freddy?’ Frodo said more gently, coming to the bed. He knew better than to take his cousin’s hand. Instead he sat down upon the bed and put an arm about Freddy’s shoulders. ‘Freddy, it’s Frodo. You know me, don’t you?’

’Frodo?’ Freddy said. ‘What are you doing here? You were never in the wizard’s dreams.’

’You’re safe, Freddy,’ Frodo said, even as he wondered. Freddy had not spoken of wizard’s dreams before. What devilry of Saruman’s was this?

’Home?’ Freddy said, after a pause.

’No, not home,’ Frodo said firmly, ‘but you’re safe. You’re at Cottons’ farm; do you remember?’

Freddy didn’t answer and Frodo tightened his hold. ‘You’re safe,’ he repeated. Looking up to see Estella hovering in the doorway he said, ‘Hullo, midge, go and fetch us some tea, will you?’

She swallowed hard and answered with some of her old sauciness, ‘I don’t know what a great donkey like you would be wanting with tea but I’ll fetch you some,’ she said. He nodded approval and she disappeared.

Frodo did not get much writing done that day. Instead he stuck close to Freddy’s side, instantly ready to offer reassurance. Estella returned with second breakfast but Freddy turned a distant stare on her and she retreated in confusion. Frodo sent her to eat with the Cottons and he sat quietly with Freddy, letting him feed himself with his left hand.

’You’re getting quite skilled at that,’ he said. ‘When the splints come off the right, you’ll be able to use two forks and stuff yourself twice as fast.’

’Handy, that,’ Freddy said absently. The rest of the day went by in a similar fashion, with Frodo or Mrs Cotton or Young Tom or Nibs sitting with Freddy, while Estella helped Rose with the housework. Rose found that this “young lady” cousin of Mr Frodo’s wasn’t at all high-and-mighty, o no, she took the dirtiest jobs and found a joke in everything she did, though Rose saw a worried look in the girl’s eye more than once, and she thought she saw Estella brush away a tear when Mrs Cotton called them to tea.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door slamming open and Jolly’s cheery, ‘Look what blew in on the wind! We’ve visitors! Rosie, set three more places for tea!’

Mrs Cotton scolded Jolly for slamming the door open and in the next breath welcomed the visitors: Finch and Budgie Smallfoot, bearing Robin between them.

’We’re on our way to Waymeet and thought we’d stop in,’ Finch said in response to Mrs Cotton’s greeting.

’Mr Cotton and the lads will be in presently; we’re just sitting down to tea,’ Mrs Cotton said hospitably. ‘Do join us!’

’My thanks,’ Finch said. After he and Budgie had settled Robin comfortably at the table, he said, ‘I also wanted to check on Mr Freddy.’ Estella gave a sniff and turned away. ‘Miss Estella,’ Finch said. ‘I bring your parents' greeting. They say the repairs to Budge Hall are coming along nicely and they plan to return soon to fetch you home.’

’Hullo, Finch,’ she said, turning back with a bright smile, though her eyes were suspiciously bright as well. ‘Fetch me home? How about Freddy?’

’What we’d heard last made them think he might be getting strong enough,’ Finch began, but he stopped at the sight of her face. ‘Don’t tell me,’ he said. ‘Something’s set him off again.’

’Doesn’t take much,’ Robin said softly and Budgie put a hand on his cousin’s shoulder.

’What’s that?’ Mrs Cotton said.

Robin gave a sigh, looking about the cosy kitchen. ‘It is so good, not to be home,’ he said. ‘I thank you for your hospitality, Missus.’

Farmer Cotton and the rest of his sons entered just then with a great wiping of feet and confusion of greetings and all sat down to their meal.

After tea, while washing up was in progress, Finch stopped to see Freddy. He was heartened by the improvement he saw; Mr Freddy was filling out and it was clear that he was growing stronger. He heard about the daily walks to the bath and nodded approval. ‘We’ll have you walking down the lane and back soon enough,’ he said.

’What’s the point of that?’ Freddy asked. He was still a little “off”, but not so bad as he’d been earlier in the day.

’The point, my dear cousin, is that at the end of the lane, in the town of Bywater, is a lovely place called ‘The Green Dragon’, where there’s a mug waiting with your name on it!’

’Beer must be awfully flat by now,’ Freddy murmured but Frodo only laughed.

’Not too flat yet, the inn just opened yesterday and the Ivy Bush is scheduled to be open for business on the morrow.’

’I had better make haste then,’ Freddy said without enthusiasm.

’Speaking of haste,’ Mrs Cotton said from the doorway, wiping her hands upon her apron, ‘my husband and lads are all heading down to the Green Dragon for a pint and a game of darts, and they ask if you’d like to join them.’ She saw Mr Frodo start to shake his head and said, ‘I’ll keep Mr Freddy company. He’s been teaching me how to play draughts, you know.’

’Go on, Frodo, and lift a pint for me while you're at it,’ Freddy said.

Frodo started to demur but then he had a sudden idea. ‘Will you come along?’ he asked Finch. ‘I have yet to buy you a mug for all the help you’ve been.’

’Pretty hard, with all the inns closed up until now,’ Finch said. ‘You’re on.’

’We’ll see you at supper, Freddy-old-chap,’ Frodo said cheerily, and Freddy gave him a half-hearted wave of dismissal.

Out in the kitchen, Frodo stopped. ‘Can we take Robin along? I’m sure he’d be all the better for a mug himself.’

’If you carry me down those steps, you’ll find I can walk quite a ways once we get on level ground,’ Robin said stoutly.

’No need,’ Farmer Cotton said. ‘We’ll just take the waggon.’ There was no gainsaying him, and soon all the Cottons, the visiting Smallfoots, and one Baggins were loaded into the waggon, on their way into town, singing lustily.

Chapter 31. The Lockholes, Revisited

At the Green Dragon all got down from the waggon and entered, save Jolly who took the ponies off to the livery. It was too cold to let them stand for any length of time tied to a post.

Frodo asked the proprietor for a quiet table near the back, away from the jollity, and his request was granted, for most of the clientele were interested in the game of darts already in progress. There was much talk and cheerful laughter and it seemed like “old times” in the Shire once again.

Frodo, Budgie, Robin and Finch settled in their chairs, sipping at the good beer and talking quietly. It appeared that Finch was taking Budgie and Robin to relations in Waymeet, a homey place that was not “home”, that they might complete their recovery.

’It’s so hard to be “home”,’ Robin said. ‘You have to fight the wizard all the time there.’

’Fight the wizard?’ Frodo asked and waited while Budgie and Robin exchanged glances.

’Sharkey may be gone but his Voice still lingers,’ Budgie said finally. ‘All the others are having the same trouble but it’s worse for Robin. If he were stronger he could fight better. We’ve got to build him up with good food and exercise, win his health back, before we return to Bridgefields to take up the battle again.'

’Why is it worse for Robin?’ Frodo said. ‘Because he’s been so ill?’

’No, because the wizard made him one of His “special pets”,’ Budgie said. ‘Curse him wherever he’s gone to! I hope his dreams are not peaceful ones!’ Frodo suppressed a smile at these o-so-mild hobbit maledictions.

’Special pets?’ Frodo asked, sipping at his beer.

’He took a liking to me,’ Robin said, ‘perhaps because I was different from the others.’

’He was the only tween in the Lockholes,’ Budgie put in. ‘He caught Sharkey’s eye.’

’He’d come and talk to me more than the others; he’d bring me treats and we’d talk of home,’ Robin said. ‘He was always kind, and civil, and polite, and he asked lots of questions and liked to hear me talk of home and family.’

’Evil,’ Finch said, ‘pure evil. He used those talks to poison the thought of “home” in the end.’

’Yes he did,’ Robin said steadily. He raised his eyes to Frodo’s. ‘He’s not going to get away with it. I’m going to be well, and I’m going to be strong, and I’m going to be home someday in spite of Him and his Voice.’ There was a core of stubbornness there, and plain hobbit good sense, and Frodo had no doubt that if it could be done Robin would do it.

’I’m sure it’s just as hard or harder for Mr Freddy,’ Robin added. ‘He was the wizard’s other “special pet”, once Sharkey found out who he had there.’

’Saruman knew who he was?’ Frodo asked, stunned.

’Yes,’ Robin said shamefacedly. ‘It was my doing... He came in one day, sat down as nice as you please, give me a bit of bread-and-butter, and started asking me about home and hobbits. He was nice,’ the tween added defensively. ‘He give me as much to eat as I wanted and when a guard came by, glaring at me for daring to speak aloud, He shook his finger in the Man’s face saying, ‘Do not hurt this little one; he is my special pet.’

Robin moved his shoulders uneasily as if trying to shrug off a burden. ‘It give me the shivers to hear Him say that,’ he admitted, ‘but who was I to gainsay...Him?’

’Go on,’ Frodo said, and Budgie nodded encouragingly with a squeeze for his young cousin’s hand.

’He give me something to drink, “to wash that bread down, your throat must be dry”, He said, and it made me feel all warm and sleepy-like,’ Robin said. ‘He asked about Mr Freddy then. He said, “That one across the way from you, he’s not like you others from Bridgefields. He’s taller, and there’s a look about him...”

’ “That’s because he’s Mr Freddy,” I answers,’ Robin said miserably. He pulled his hand free from Budgie’s and covered his face. ‘O Mr Freddy, how could I a-done that?’ he wailed. ‘O Mr Freddy...’ Laughter from the game of darts washed over them in eerie contrast.

It took some time to calm him but finally he was ready to go on with the story. ‘His black eyes, o how I remember them, coal black like a starless night, His eyes how they glowed then, and... He said with a horrid sort of delight, “Fredegar Bolger? I have Fatty Bolger here?” I knowed then what I’d done, given up Mr Freddy, and I wanted to die then and there but... He patted my arm and said, “No harm done, little one. Why, you’ve saved Mr Freddy’s life by telling me! Had any of my Men discovered his identity they’d have hauled him out and hanged him at the end of a rope for all the good citizens of Michel Delving to see!” And then—’ Robin stopped to gulp back tears.

’And then?’ Frodo said gently.

’And then He calls for the chief of his Men and points to Mr Freddy’s little room acrost the way and says, “That one there is another of my special pets. You may do whatever you like with him but you may not take his life. Do you understand?”

’The ruffian nods and says he understands and then He fixes him with those black eyes and says, “Let me make it perfectly clear. If that one is not here when I come on my next visit I will be extremely displeased.” The ruffian says he understands and... He says, “Be sure that all your Men are aware of this,” and the ruffian says he’d make it known.’

’What happened then?’ Frodo asked. Robin was silent a long time, twisting his fingers together, staring down at his hands. Frodo took a breath to ask again when he spoke.

’He patted my head as if I was a little dog, said, “You’d better eat the rest of your bread-and-butter, little one,” so I did, crammed it right into my mouth and He laughed He did. And then... He went acrost the way to Mr Freddy’s little room and spoke to him for a long while. I don’t think he give him any bread-and-butter, though,’ Robin said.

He shivered. ‘ ‘Twas the very next day, the ruffians started breaking Mr Freddy’s fingers. They broke one every day, and then they busted up his hand, and then they would’ve started on the other hand but for the chief saying someone’d have to feed him then, if’n they took away both his hands, or he’d starve to death and... He wouldn’t like that. So they started on the fingers they’d already broken, twisting and breaking them again—o I cannot, I cannot!’ he wailed.

Budgie took Robin in his arms and rocked him, soothing with quiet words and patting his back. Looking to Frodo, he said, ‘Do you have all you need?’ It was dismissal more than question and Frodo nodded.

’Thank you, Robin,’ he said, ‘I have just one more question. Did the wizard visit Mr Freddy after that?’

’O yes,’ Robin gulped, sniffing back tears. ‘He came on a regular basis, and he was always tching with concern over Mr Freddy’s fingers, saying they’d have to “do something about that”, and when he’d leave the ruffians would go at Mr Freddy again, laughing and saying, “Do something about that! We had better do something about that!” O it was horrible and I heard every bit of it and knew it was my doing...’

’It wasn’t your doing, Robin,’ Frodo said quietly. ‘You were already in the Lockholes, being mistreated, and I understand they hurt both you and Mr Freddy the most because you two were closest to the entrance not just because you were “special pets”.’ His lip curled in distaste over the words. ‘They were the ones that hurt him, not you.’ He laid his hand on Robin’s shoulder as he spoke. Budgie noticed for the first time the missing finger and wondered at the story behind it. Perhaps Mr Frodo had had run-ins with his own ruffians. In any event he seemed to understand the prisoners’ hurts and fears more than other hobbits, even the prisoners’ families.

’So you all hear the wizard’s Voice, still?’ Frodo went on, thinking aloud.

’Some times more than others,’ Budgie admitted. ‘Sometimes someone says something that reminds me of the Lockholes, or they do something, and I’m back there for a moment. I hear the wizard’s Voice in my dreams too.’

’It’s hard to sleep,’ Robin agreed. ‘Will we ever be shut of him?’

’I don’t know,’ Frodo said honestly. ‘You might just have to think of it as a burden, and keep on bearing it. Hopefully it won’t be such a hard task as you grow stronger.’

’The burden grows no lighter, but they’re more able to bear it, you mean?’ Finch asked.

’Something to that effect,’ Frodo said. He had his own burden, and somewhere deep within a warning chimed. He must remain strong, keep building himself stronger with good food, good company, laughter and keeping busy. As long as he could remain strong, he would not be overcome...

Chapter 32. Black Sheep Shorn

When the merrymakers returned from the Green Dragon, Frodo had a minor crisis to deal with.

Mrs Cotton met him with a grim face. ‘She’s your cousin, Mr Frodo, and with her parents away, it’s up to you to deal with her, her brother being so ill and all...’

Frodo wondered what in the world Estella had done now. He didn’t have to wait long to find out. He knocked at the door of the room the Cottons had given her upon her arrival, and at the defiant “Enter!” he opened the door cautiously, wary of thrown objects. No war engines launched their shot however, and he entered the room, stopping short in surprise.

’Estella, what have you done to yourself?’ he asked in astonishment. ‘You look like a sheep that’s been shorn.’

’I cut my hair,’ she sniffed as a tear spilled over and ran down her cheek. ‘Freddy said—he said—and he didn’t know me,’ she sobbed, ‘and it was because my hair was growing out and I looked as he remembered me, and so I cut it off, and so... so there!’

’You look positively...’ Frodo searched for a word, but ended up spilling the truth. ‘...awful.’

’I know,’ Estella said with another sniff. ‘The worst part is, I’m afraid to go and see Freddy. What if he still doesn’t know me after I’ve gone and done this?’

Some instinct prompted Frodo to hold out his arms, and Estella crossed the room to him, snuggling against him and weeping the tears she had not let fall before. He folded his arms around her and held her while she cried, and when she finished he fished a snowy handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at her face. She took it from him to finish the job.

’Better?’ Frodo asked. Estella nodded. ‘Shall we go and see Freddy?’ Estella shook her head. ‘Come now, midge; I think at the very least he will laugh.’

’Do you think so?’ she whispered, torn between hope and fear. ‘O Fro, do you really think so?’

’We have to find out,’ Frodo said. He put a hand to his head. ‘Do you think my hair looks satisfactory?’ She snorted and gave him a push, and he laughed. ‘Come along, midge. Why, Freddy’s not been pestered all day, you know.’

She let him lead her to Freddy’s room. He peeked in to see Rose sitting by the bed, knitting. ‘Hullo!’ Frodo said. ‘Is anyone in?’

Freddy looked up from his contemplation of Rose’s work. ‘Hullo Frodo, did you have a pint for me?’

Frodo slapped a hand to his forehead in apparent consternation. ‘I forgot!’ he said. ‘Now I will have to go back and do it over again to get it right!’

’Ah,’ Freddy said. ‘Practice makes perfect.’ He looked past Frodo. ‘What’re you doing hovering back there, Babe? Do you have some mischief or other planned?’

Estella stepped into the room, her expression brightening. ‘Of course, you old Gaffer,’ she said haughtily. ‘When have I not had mischief planned?’

Rose looked from Estella to Freddy with a thoughtful expression. ‘I’ll just go tell Mum to brew a pot of tea,’ she said, putting her knitting away and slipping from the room. Frodo had the feeling that Mrs Cotton would be set straight, and very soon.

***

Later that evening after Estella had badgered Freddy into eating every scrap of his supper and asking for more in the bargain, Farmer Cotton came into the bedroom. ‘Thought I’d sit and smoke in here, if you don’t mind,’ he said. ‘I brought an extra pipe, just in case, Mr Freddy...’

’Very thoughtful of you,’ Freddy said. ‘As a matter of fact, a pipe would be a fine ending to that meal.’

Farmer Cotton nodded, filled one of the pipes, got it going well, and passed it to Freddy. He soon had his own pipe going and sat down to a companionable smoke.

’I’m off to bed,’ Estella announced, getting up and picking up the tray. ‘And you ought to sleep soon yourself, Gaffer,’ she said.

’Don’t you worry your little head about me, Babe,’ Freddy said placidly. ‘Why, I might drop off before the pipe is smoked.’

’You’d do better to finish the pipe first,’ Farmer Cotton said. ‘It’s some pipeweed we hid in the barn, that didn’t get gathered, and it would be a terrible waste to fall asleep and spill your pipe on the bed only half-done.’

’Not to mention what it would do to the bedcovers,’ Estella said righteously.

’Such a touching concern for the bedcovers, Babe,’ Freddy said. ‘How many sheets have you cut up?’

’That was when I was little,’ Estella said with dignity, ‘and folk didn’t have the sense to keep the scissors out of a small child’s reach!’

’Ah, so that’s how it was,’ Freddy said. ‘Well then, Babe, good night. Mistress Cotton needn’t worry about her sheets this night it seems. The good Farmer will catch my pipe ere it falls, should I drop off, and you’ve left off cutting up good bedclothes, although you’ve turned to other interests, I’d warrant.’ It was the closest he’d come to mentioning her hair, but there was a thoughtful look in his eye, and perhaps... a touch of gratitude?

’Perhaps,’ Estella said grandly, with her nose in the air. ‘I shall see you at breakfast, brother, and I hope your ancient and creaking bones rest comfortably.’ She marched from the room.

Frodo caught her in the kitchen. ‘It went exactly as I thought it would,’ he said, taking the tray from her and carrying it over to the washstand. ‘Come here, midge.’ He put the plate, cup and silver into the wash water, picked up a scrubber and began to wash each article, nodded to Estella to take up a cloth and dry what he dipped into the rinse water and handed to her. It was the first time she’d dried dishes since leaving Twig behind, and it gave her a pleasant, useful feeling.

When they were finished Frodo said, ‘Come, sit with me for a moment.’ There was a cosied teapot and two mugs on the kitchen table, and they sat down opposite each other. The rest of the family and guests were already preparing for bed, for common hobbits do not as a rule stay up past supper the way the great families do, except for a special occasion such as a birthday or wedding.

Frodo poured out tea and let Estella fix her own cup to her liking, not commenting when she added several spoonfuls of sweetening to her cup. ‘You did exactly the right thing today,’ he said firmly.

Estella’s hand rose halfway to her head and then she snatched it down and put it flat on the table. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

’Cutting your hair was just the right thing for Freddy,’ Frodo said. He put a hand on hers and said, ‘This will not be easy to tell you, but I think you ought to know. I think you are old enough, and strong enough, and Freddy needs you if he is to survive this.’

 ‘Survive!’ she gasped. Frodo waited for her to calm herself, and calm herself she did, showing some of the iron will that had made her mother despair in Estella's earlier years, but would stand her in good stead now and in future. ‘Very well,’ she said resolutely. ‘Tell away.’

Frodo recounted the conversation in the quiet corner at the Green Dragon, watching her face intently all the while. She swallowed hard and her fingers tightened on her mug until the knuckles turned white, but she showed no sign of queasiness or fainting, and Frodo nodded to himself. He’d been right in his estimation of this young cousin of his.

’So the wizard poisoned his mind with thoughts of family and home,’ Estella said slowly when he’d finished. She shivered but her eyes were hard and cold.

’Yes,’ Frodo said quietly. ‘Your parents confounded the wizard’s plot by the fact that they were wearing the old cast-off clothes of the gardener and his wife, not richly dressed as Freddy remembered them, and you...’

’And I didn’t look like the little sister he remembered,’ Estella said. ‘It is a mercy, I suppose, that in the wizard’s dreams I looked like Estella of Budge Hall and not Twig.’

’Yes,’ Frodo said seriously. ‘It is a mercy indeed. We’d have to send you away otherwise, and I do not know if he would ever be strong enough to see you again.’

’Ever!’ Estella gasped.

Frodo shook his head. ‘I do not know if he will ever recover from this spell that has been laid upon him by Saruman’s Voice,’ he said. ‘I mean to send a message to Gandalf, to ask his advice, but I do not know how long it will take to reach him, for I am not even sure where he is at present.’

’Freddy will be well again,’ Estella said, grim determination in her voice. ‘He will!’

’He may never be able to go home again,’ Frodo warned.

’Don’t say that!’ Estella snapped. ‘We are going to fight this! No dead wizard is going to ruin my brother’s life!’

Frodo had no doubt that if it was anywhere in Estella’s power to save Fredegar, he’d be saved. If...

Chapter 33. A Tisket, a Tasket

A fortnight later Mrs Cotton looked sharply at Estella over the noontide meal, which she took with the Cottons for it was Frodo’s day to sit with Freddy. ‘Your hair’s starting to grow out again,’ she observed.

Estella raised her hand to her thick, dark curls, feeling the truth twining round her fingers. ‘Looks as if the sheep needs another shearing already,’ she sighed.

’Not necessarily,’ Mrs Cotton said, her eyes narrowing as if she saw something other than the dark head before her. She got up from the table to refill the teapot but did not sit down after placing the pot back on the table. Instead she left the kitchen, but was back only a moment or two later, a bit of bright cloth in her hand.

’Here,’ she said, ‘let us try this on for looks.’ It was a kerchief of the kind the farm girls wear when out in the garden hoeing, or hanging wash, or picking apples or cherries, or any number of chores where flyaway curls escaping from a braid or bun are as annoying as midges. Mrs Cotton folded the kerchief into a neat triangle, laid it over Estella’s head, tied it at the back of her neck, and stepped back to survey the effect.

’You don’t look at all like yourself,’ she said. ‘Especially in Rose’s old dress; you could be any farm lass.’ Almost, she thought to herself. There was no disguising the girl’s delicate beauty, but the old dress and the kerchief covering her hair certainly made her look different from the elegantly clad, high-born lass who’d walked the Bywater market with her brother and her cousin Frodo, laughing, before the Troubles blighted the Shire. Walked? Danced, more like. Miss Estella was more a butterfly than a hobbit, though Mrs Cotton had to admit the girl wasn’t afraid to dirty her hands.

’Let us try it on Mr Freddy and see what he does,’ Rose said, getting up from the table. ‘He ought to be done with his nooning by now.’ She took Estella’s hand and walked her down to Freddy’s door, tapping and sticking her head in. ‘Hullo Mr Freddy, I’ve got someone for you to meet!’

’Bring them on,’ Freddy said. ‘I always like to get meeting and greeting over with early; it gives me the rest of the day for abusing those already near and dear to me.’

’Come along, Tillie!’ Rose said, pulling at Estella’s arm. ‘My cousin Tillie,’ she said. ‘Tillie, this is Mr Freddy, who’s staying with us for a bit.’

Estella made a bob like the one she’d seen Rose make, ducked her head and mumbled shyly, ‘Pleased to make yer acquaintance, Mr Freddy.’

’At your service, lass,’ Freddy said. ‘No need to be shy around me, I hardly ever bite.’

’We pulled all his teeth ages ago,’ Frodo said, ‘so the worst he can do is gum you unpleasantly.’ His eyes were glinting with mischief.

’Have you met my sister yet?’ Freddy went on. ‘You look a bit like her. Perhaps a tad prettier, d’you think so, Frodo?’

’O you old Gaffer, you!’ Estella said. ‘You ought to say I’m much prettier, so that I blush and stammer and retreat in confusion.’

’I’ll keep that in mind,’ Freddy said placidly, lifting his cup to his lips.

’Really midge, you don’t look at all like yourself,’ Frodo said, his eyes smiling. And that’s all to the good, Estella read in his expression. She nodded.

’May I take yer tray, young sor?’ she said with another nervous little bob.

’You may, child, and my thanks go with you,’ Freddy said, putting his teacup down on the saucer and winking as Estella picked up the tray. He yawned widely.

’Are you sleepy, Freddy?’ Frodo asked solicitously.

’Completely exhausted,’ Freddy answered. ‘Good thing I’m already in a bed.’ Frodo smiled and pulled the pillows from behind him to lie him down. ‘Ah,’ Freddy added as Rose pulled the bedclothes up to his chin. ‘This is living.’ He sighed and closed his eyes.

’Sleep well, cousin,’ Frodo said softly. ‘I’ll keep watch.’

’You do that,’ Freddy murmured without opening his eyes. He sighed again... and slept.

Estella returned from the kitchen after helping with the washing up to say, ‘Do you want me to watch with him now, cousin?’

’No,’ Frodo said. ‘It is easier to avoid writing as long as I’m sitting here.’

’Have you come to a stopping place?’ Estella asked, curious.

’Not at all,’ Frodo said. ‘I haven’t even started yet.’ He stretched. ‘O I’ve got my notes all organised; I’m ready to plunge in, but I’m a bit tired this day.’

’Difficult night?’ Estella said softly. Frodo only nodded. ‘Do you want me to bring you anything? Another cup of tea?’

’No,’ Frodo said. ‘To tell the truth, I might just doze a bit myself as long as your brother is quiet and peaceful. Why don’t you take yourself off for a walk? I see the Sun has peeked her face out from the clouds for a bit today.’

’Would you like to come with me, Miss?’ Rose said. She had just finished dusting the room, cleaning out the little grate and laying a fresh fire. ‘I’m to take tea with Marigold Gamgee this afternoon. We could see what they have in the market on the way.’

’I heard they found another abandoned barn just stuffed with things the ruffians had gathered,’ Frodo said. ‘It ought to be a good market day in Bywater.’

’O aye,’ Estella said with a broad Tookish accent. ‘Ye have the right of it there, lad. Those ruffians had a good eye when it came to gathering, and there ought to be a right fine choice on the market tables this day.’

’Go on with ye, Twig,’ Frodo said in the same vein. ‘And bring me back a hank of Longbottom Leaf, o aye, if there’s any to be had. Me poor pipe’s been that lonely of late, I’ll be telling you!’

Rose was convulsed with laughter, but she put a finger to her lips and shook her duster at the sleeping figure in the bed.

’Don’t ye mind him any, that’s me old gaffer,’ Estella said softly. ‘Keeps us awake half the night with his snoring, he does, and turnabout’s fair play, I say.’

’Come along, Miss,’ Rose said, pulling at Estella’s arm, ‘before the day is gone and we miss our tea!’

Estella made another bob for Frodo’s benefit and said, ‘Have a nice rest, my venerable and ancient cousin, and I will see if there is any pipeweed to be found.’

’Have a nice walk, young whippersnapper!’ Frodo creaked. ‘And try to get back afore I die of old age!’ Estella grinned and allowed Rose to pull her away.

***

It was a pleasant day for mid-December, unusually mild after a week of cold rain. A lass needed only a shawl thrown over her head and shoulders rather than the heavy cloak of oiled wool usually called for this time of year. Rose and Estella walked down the lane towards Bywater, laughing and chatting almost as if they were cousins. Estella enjoyed the relaxed manners she’d known as a member of a farm family, when she was Twig. Rose, usually shy in the presence of gentry, found this girl no different than herself really. It was funny what a difference clothes made.

When they reached Bywater, Rose and Estella browsed through the market stalls, exclaiming at the riches to be found there. The merchants had laboured at clearing the goods from the old abandoned barn, taking stock, cleaning what needed to be cleaned, counting and sorting the rest, identifying the owners if at all possible in order to return “gathered” items to their proper places. The rest was sold in the marketplace and the merchants earned half the proceeds of the sales they made. The other half would go to help hobbits left homeless by the Troubles.

Estella was happy to find a quantity of Old Toby for her cousin; not Longbottom Leaf, it was true, but better than nothing. She bought a few coppers’ worth, for Freddy would enjoy it as much as Frodo would. Farmer Cotton had generously shared what had been hidden in his barn so he ought to have some as well.

While Rose was busy with the fishmonger (How nice to have fresh-caught fish available again! The ruffians had taken all for months), Estella browsed a stall of “pretties” and purchased a carven wristlet, the perfect little thing to give to Rose at Yuletide, and two nice combs for Mrs Cotton’s hair. She wasn’t sure what to get all those Cotton lads; perhaps she and Rose could stir up a pan of candy for them, divide it and wrap it nicely in a little package for each. She secreted all her finds in her basket beneath two more bright kerchiefs, and when Rose was finished with her shopping she was ready as well.

Suddenly a clear voice called Rose’s name and the girls looked up from their perusal of wooden spoons to see Merry Brandybuck guiding his pony through the market-day crowd.

’Rose!’ he said again, sliding from his saddle. ‘Ah, Rose, what a pleasure it is to lay my eyes upon you!’ He took one of Rose’s hands between his two and beamed at her.

’Mr Merry,’ she said in an urgent undertone. ‘Sam’s nowhere about to see this!’

’Ah, but he’ll hear tell I’ve no doubt,’ Merry whispered, then said in a loud tone, ‘but have you changed your mind, sweet Rosie? Have you decided to make me the happiest hobbit in the Shire?’

Rose jerked her hand away, eyes snapping. ‘Mr Merry! This is neither the time nor the place...’ she was aware of eager eyes and ears drinking in every word and nuance.

’Would it make a difference if I go down on my knees?’ Merry asked tenderly.

’On your knees in the mud, in your mail and all?’ Rose said, horrified. ‘Mr Merry, have you taken leave of your senses?’

’I have,’ Merry said solemnly. ‘Indeed, for being in the presence of the loveliest lass in the Shire is making my head whirl.’

Rose suddenly pulled Estella from behind her. ‘Speaking of which, I’d like you to meet my cousin Tillie,’ she said, thrusting Estella forward.

’Pleased to meet you, Tillie,’ Merry murmured politely, but he obviously had eyes only for Rose, well pleased with the impression he was making. When Samwise did get back from his forestry business, he’d get an earful for sure. ‘Tell me, Rose, is there any hope for me? Do say that there is...’

’I’d say there is hope indeed,’ Rose said, and Merry brightened, ‘hope that is, of having tea with your cousins if you get right back on that pony and make haste to the farm. They ought to be pouring out soon, and if you tarry any longer you’ll miss it.’

‘Ah, Rose, you are a hard-hearted lass, but I hope to win you over yet,’ Merry said with a deep bow. He grinned and swung aboard his pony again. ‘Farewell, dearest lass.’

’Go on with you, Merry Brandybuck,’ Rose said, not at all politely, for she was exasperated and worried in the bargain about the parental scolding that might result from this scene.

’Good day, Miss Rose, Miss Tillie,’ Merry said in parting.

’Good riddance!’ Rose said under her breath, turning her back on him and pulling Estella along.

Estella’s shoulders were shaking with mirth. ‘You really ought to accept him one of these times,’ she gasped when she could get her breath. ‘I should dearly love to see his face.’

’I just might,’ Rose said grimly, ‘just to see Sam’s face. If he would only speak all this nonsense would come to an end.’ It would be so much simpler if she could be the one to speak to Samwise; after all, he was the one who was shy. But if she did and the word got out, there'd be such a scandal, and her parents would be grieved, and Samwise might be so put off that he'd never speak. Her stormy thoughts were interrupted quite suddenly.

’O Rose, you wouldn’t!’ Estella said, stopping short. Rose started to bridle, thinking of the obvious reasons why she couldn’t marry Meriadoc Brandybuck even if he should ask her in all seriousness, but looking at Estella’s face she realised the truth of the matter. The girl was not at all putting Rose in her place, o no. It seemed that Rose was not the only lass with feelings for a hobbit who didn’t seem to notice she existed.

’Come along, “Tillie”,’ she said gently. ‘Marigold’s waiting for us, and her old gaffer will be very put out if tea is not served on time.’

Chapter 34. The End of the Chase

Merry stayed to supper with the Cottons, regaling them with tales of the ruffian-hunt.

’They’re all gone?’ Frodo asked. ‘You’re sure?’

’As sure as Uncle Merimac and the Thain can be,’ Merry said. ‘Of course, there will be watchers at the Bounds, and Shirriffs within the Bounds will be on the alert, but we’ve combed every inch of Woody End and all of Southfarthing thoroughly, and the Thain and his archers routed them out of Westfarthing.’

’What about the North?’ Frodo asked.

’Too cold, I think, with winter coming on,’ Merry said practically. ‘We’ve had no reports of ruffians there.'

’Where’s Mr Pippin?’ Samwise asked. He had turned up just before suppertime, and would be in Bywater a few days to check on the work on Bagshot Row and Bag End before going off again to plant more trees.

’He’s at the Smials already, taking up his duties,’ Merry said, with a glance at Frodo.

’Perhaps I ought to celebrate Yuletide in Tuckborough,’ Frodo said at once.

’An excellent idea, cousin, I understand they have quite the celebration planned, what with the son of the Thain returning from the dead and all.’

’How about Buckland?’ Nibs asked.

’Ah, well, they never gave up hope for me, you know,’ Merry said smoothly. ‘It’ll be the same old celebration as it always was.’

’Nothing wrong with that,’ Farmer Cotton said calmly. ‘It is good to return to the way things were before.’

’Yes it is,’ Merry said firmly. ‘And I’m off to Buckland, to take up my own duties, after supper.’

’Tonight!’ Frodo said in amazement. ‘What about sleep?’

’O that,’ Merry said dismissively. ‘Why, the stars are thick tonight, and who knows when the clouds will roll back in to cover them! Bright Nose and I will enjoy a nice, quiet ride, having the Road all to ourselves, and by morning we’ll be that much closer to home.’

’You’re welcome to stay, young master,’ Farmer Cotton said.

’My thanks, good sir, but what I’d really like...’ Merry said, and unaccountably hesitated.

’What is it, Mr Merry?’ Mrs Cotton said indulgently.

’I’d really like...’ Merry repeated, and suddenly Rose had an inkling of what he was going to say. She groaned inwardly and shook her head, but Merry wasn’t looking at her.

’If there’s no one there before me, that is,’ he added, and then said in a rush as if he were a shy and awkward farm hobbit. ‘I’d like to take Miss Rose back to Buckland with me someday, under proper circumstances, that is...’

At the gasps around the table, he looked around and then dropped his eyes, saying sheepishly. ‘Well I’ve asked and asked, even tried to go down on my knees in the market today...’

 ‘In the mud!’ Rose muttered indignantly.

’And she simply will not have me,’ Merry continued. ‘D’you suppose, Mr Cotton, sir, that you could put in a good word for me?’

’Well now,’ Farmer Cotton said, carefully not looking at Samwise, though that lad was white as a sheet. ‘I cannot force my daughter’s choice,’ he continued slowly. ‘You may pursue your suit, if you don’t make a nuisance of yourself, but it’s up to her to say “aye” or “nay”.’

Merry sighed sadly and toyed with his food for the rest of the meal. Samwise asked to be excused and stalked from the house. Frodo kept the conversation going, but when Merry got up to say he would spend some time with Freddy before riding on, the elder cousin quickly rose from the table, saying, ‘I’ll accompany you.’

When Rose started for the bedroom to ask if Mr Freddy or Miss Estella needed anything, she found the cousins still in the hallway. Frodo was evidently taking Merry to task, for she heard, ‘...taking things a little too far, don’t you think?’

’All he has to do is speak to the lass, and it’ll end!’ Merry said. ‘Who knew that Sam could be so stubborn?’

’You ought to know,’ Frodo said severely. ‘You ought to know very well just how stubborn he can be. He’s a rock, and you’re not going to pry him from the garden bed this way. The more you tease, the firmer he settles.’

’O very well, Frodo,’ Merry said, throwing up his hands, and Rose breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I’ll leave off. You have to admit it has been a good joke.’

’No,’ Frodo said. ‘It hasn’t. Samwise hasn’t found it funny at all,’ he added.

’Very well,’ Merry said in exasperation. ‘I’ve already said I’ll leave off. You have my word; I won’t speak to Rosie-lass again, nor tease her anymore.’

’Good,’ Frodo said shortly, and turned abruptly to go back to the kitchen, catching Rose in the doorway. He spoke no word, simply bowed to her in a gentlehobbitly fashion, and cheeks flaming, she turned back and hurried to fill the teakettle without a word.

***

In the bedroom, Estella had allowed Freddy to feed himself, though she kept up a light banter to make the task less onerous. Both looked up, seeing Merry in the doorway.

’Hullo, there,’ Freddy said. ‘Still dressed up like an old book of tales, are we? Slain any dragons lately?’

’O any number,’ Merry said casually. ‘You haven’t seen any round here, have you?’

’No, as a matter of fact,’ Freddy said.

’See?’ Merry said with an expressive gesture.

’You’ve been quite busy, then,’ Freddy added approvingly. ‘Good lad.’

’Hullo midge,’ Merry said, turning his attention upon Estella. ‘D’you know, you bear the most remarkable resemblance to my true love’s cousin Tilly.’

’Is that so, hedgehog?’ Estella murmured. ‘Tell me, do you wear your armour all the time?’

’Easier than carrying it about,’ Merry said cheerily.

’Even when you sleep?’ she pressed.

’Have you ever known a hedgehog to take his armour off?’ Merry said comfortably.

’Besides, he doesn’t sleep,’ Freddy said, and when Merry turned to him in surprise, he shrugged. ‘So I’ve heard tell.’

’That’s me!’ Merry said, striking a noble pose. ‘Always on the alert, watching for dragons or ruffians or wolves, never sleeping, ever vigilant.’

’The armour’s too uncomfortable to sleep in,’ Freddy said in an aside to his sister.

’So that’s what it is,’ Estella said. ‘I thought he was losing sleep over his lady-love.’

’My lady-love no longer,’ Merry said, placing the back of his hand against his forehead in a tragic way. ‘She has rejected me, and I am taking myself off in dejection.’

’Just so long as you take yourself off,’ Freddy said dryly, but Merry suddenly put his hand down and affected to stare at Estella as if he’d never seen her before.

’On the other hand, lass, you look quite a bit more interesting as “Tillie” than you did as “Twig”,’ he said thoughtfully.

Freddy sat up abruptly. ‘Don’t you start,’ he said in a completely different tone.

Merry stepped back. ‘What’re you on about?’ he asked in surprise. ‘It’s just good fun!’

’Not with my sister, you don’t,’ Freddy said severely.

Merry shook his head. ‘Goodness, folk around here have absolutely no sense of humour,’ he said. ‘I had better take myself off to the merry land of the Bucks who drink their brandy and know a joke when they hear one.’

’Good riddance,’ Freddy said, and grinned. ‘Have a safe trip, cousin, and don’t be a stranger.’

’O I won’t be,’ Merry said with a grin of his own.

’No he’ll keep turning up like a bad penny,’ Estella said dryly, to cover her feelings.

Merry grinned at her and said, ‘Fare-thee-well, midge!’ He glanced at Freddy and was reassured to see his cousin had settled back against his pillows. Abusing a younger cousin was apparently acceptable where love-making was not.

’Fare-thee-well, hedgie,’ she returned coolly, picking up the tray. ‘I’ll walk you to the kitchen.’ She half-expected him to pretend to swoon and begin his lady-love talk, but he’d evidently taken Freddy’s warning to heart and was civil, even more polite than usual.

In the kitchen, the Cottons bade him farewell, and Frodo had a hug for his cousin, Rose was glad to see.

’Goodbye, Miss Rose,’ Merry said, perfectly polite.

’Goodbye, Mr Merry,’ Rose answered.

’Is Samwise still gone?’ Merry asked in surprise.

’I believe he went up to see Marigold and his old gaffer,’ Farmer Cotton said quietly.

’Frodo?’ Merry said.

Frodo nodded and put an arm about his shoulders. ‘I’ll walk you out,’ he said.

Jolly had Bright Nose saddled and ready to go. ‘He’s had a good feed, and a bit of a rest,’ he said, and hesitated. ‘Mr Merry, don’t you think he’d like a night’s sleep, like the rest of us?’

’Bless you, Jolly, he’s half owl,’ Merry chuckled. ‘But thanks for getting him ready for me.’

Jolly heard the dismissal in his tone; evidently the cousins had some business to finish before Captain Merry rode away. ’You’re most welcome, Mr Merry,’ he said, and went back to his evening chores.

’Frodo, I really did not mean to grieve Samwise,’ Merry said.

’I know,’ Frodo responded. ‘I’ll tell him so.’

’Do you think he’ll hold it against me? I’d hate for that to happen,’ Merry said seriously.

’Samwise? He has far too much sense for that,’ Frodo said. ‘What I fear is that you’ve put his back up. Who knows when he’ll propose to Rosie after this, if ever?’

’Frodo, no!’ Merry said, horror-stricken. ‘Don’t say that! It was all in good fun...’

’You’ve been hanging about Pip too much, to have been so thoughtless in your pursuit of fun, cousin.’

’I’m sorry, Frodo,’ Merry said humbly. ‘I’ll... I’ll take more care in future.’

’You do that,’ Frodo said with another hug, then stepped back to let Merry mount the pony. ‘Safe trip, Merry, and don’t be a stranger.’

Merry raised his hand in farewell, turned his pony’s face to the lane, and rode away.

Chapter 35. Seeing the Old Year Out

The rest of the year slipped by quickly and quietly. Several more of the ruffians’ stores were discovered in the neighbourhood of Bywater, so that the hobbits of that locality had a much merrier Yule than they’d anticipated. Word came from Budge Hall that there had been a fire in the kitchens, spreading smoke throughout the entire grand dwelling, though only the kitchens had sustained serious damage due to quick action on the part of the workers who were restoring Budge Hall to its former splendour. In any event, the Hall would not be fit for occupation until some time in the New Year.

’What a pity,’ Freddy said, passing the letter to Frodo, even as he suppressed a sigh of relief.

’Yes,’ Frodo said with a thoughtful look.

’Why don’t you write your mum and dad and invite them to the farm for Yule?’ Mrs Cotton said, plumping Freddy’s pillows and settling him for a nice nap after his noontide meal. ‘It would hardly be a celebration with them there in the gardener’s home and you and your sister here. Families belong together.’

’Why thank you, Mrs Cotton,’ Freddy said sleepily.

’I shall write them for you, cousin, and send the letter off post haste,’ Frodo said with a pat for his shoulder.

Freddy opened one eye. ‘You’re supposed to be writing something else, as I recall,’ he muttered.

Frodo laughed. ‘Don’t you worry about me!’ he said. ‘Just as soon as you drop off, my work begins.’

’I’ll take a nice long rest then, cousin,’ Freddy murmured, closing the eye once more and adding, ‘Get lots done; I expect to see results by teatime.’ Within a few breaths he was asleep.

By teatime, Frodo had a nicely-written letter and several pages of manuscript to show for his afternoon. Freddy held out a demanding hand.

’What, you want to read it?’ Frodo said in astonishment.

’Isn’t that why you’re writing it?’ Freddy responded. ‘I can tell you whether it’s destined for a dusty shelf, or if it’ll be a favourite read.’

’You?’ Frodo laughed. ‘I’d have pegged Merry for the part.’

’We have a fine library at Budge Hall,’ Freddy said. ‘At least, I hope we do. I don’t know how much might have been damaged by smoke.’

’A fine library, indeed,’ Frodo said. He’d curled up in an oversized leather chair with a good book on more than one visit. ‘I didn’t think you even knew it existed.’

’It’s his deep, dark secret,’ Estella whispered behind her hand. ‘He doesn’t want folk to take him too seriously, you know. ‘Twould spoil his reputation as a rake and an idler.’

’Most folk think I don’t have a brain in my head,’ Freddy said with satisfaction. ‘Gives me quite the advantage, y’know.’

’I’m afraid your reputation is ruined,’ Frodo said. ‘Your band have been talking about you back in Bridgefields, and you’re quite respected now.’

’What a shame,’ Freddy said. ‘I might have to turn my hand to honest labour of some sort or other. Now cousin, you have not succeeded in distracting me from my end. Give it over.’

With a sigh, Frodo handed him the pages. Freddy began to read, pursing his lips.

’It starts out a bit slowly, cousin; do you aim to send your reader off to sleep first thing?’ he said.

’Exactly my plan,’ Frodo answered.

’Ah. It succeeds marvellously well.’ Freddy read on. Estella perched on the bed beside him and began to read over his shoulder. When he reached the end of the page, Freddy looked over at her. ‘Ready?’ he said.

’Quite,’ Estella answered, and he turned to the next page. Several pages along, he began to chuckle. ‘ “gave away presents to all and sundry”,’ he quoted. ‘How did you know young Pip went out the back way and came through the gate again?’

‘He told me how his first present “broke”—actually, he took it apart and couldn’t get it back together again—and very proudly showed me his second present,’ Frodo said. ‘Cost me a copper to see how it worked.’ Freddy threw back his head and laughed loud and long.

’Went out the back way and came in again!’ Estella said indignantly. ‘Why, I only got one present!’ Secretly she was delighted to hear her brother laugh again as he had in the old days.

’Ah yes, I remember the fireworks,’ Freddy said a little later.

’I would have thought it was the food you remembered,’ Estella said acidly.

’That, too,’ Freddy said. ‘I don’t think I ate anything for days after Bilbo’s party, did you?’

’Not a lot of folk did,’ Frodo said.

’You left off the trees, don’t you remember them?’ Estella said.

’Trees?’ Frodo asked, puzzled.

’You know, with trunks of dark smoke, and all their leaves unfolded as if spring came in a breath of time, and they dropped the most beautifully shining flowers but when you reached to catch them, they disappeared with a sweet scent as if they were real flowers.’

’Real flowers don’t disappear,’ Freddy said.

’They smelt like real flowers,’ Estella said stubbornly.

Freddy laughed. ‘What I remember was Pip’s nearly setting fire to old Odo Proudfoot’s big toe when he lit that string of crackers!’

’Ah yes,’ Frodo said, leaning back in his chair with a laugh of his own. ‘Odo told me the next day he didn’t know how all the curls got singed that way...’

’That’s all?’ Freddy said, coming to the end. ‘What about the speech?’

’All, you say?’ Frodo said, sitting up again. ‘That is several days’ patient labour, I’ll have you know!’

’And done to a turn. You’ve pulled me in quite nicely, you see: I want more!’

’Well the speech is a bit difficult,’ Frodo said, settling back to sip from his now cold cup of tea. He put it down with a shudder. Estella quickly rose, took the tea tray and bore it away, to fetch fresh tea and pour out the cold.

’Difficult? How so?’ Freddy said.

’You should see the wadded-up paper in the dustbin,’ Frodo confessed. ‘I cannot seem to get it quite right. It was so long ago, you know, nearly twenty years now.’

’Talk to Ferdibrand Took,’ Freddy advised. ‘You know how phenomenal his memory is. He’ll give it to you word-for-word.’

’Will he? I thought he’d had his brains badly rattled,’ Frodo said.

’That hard-headed cousin of mine? Hah!’ Freddy answered. ‘I got a note from Rosemary just the other day that he’s on his feet and not much the worse for wear,’ he sobered and added, ‘save the fact that he’ll probably never draw a bow again.’

’I wonder if he remembers Bilbo’s speech?’ Frodo said thoughtfully.

’No harm in asking,’ Freddy said. ‘Why don’t you go down to the Smials and wish him a glad Yule?’

’What a good idea, cousin! I can check on Pippin at the same time,’ Frodo said.

’I’m full of good ideas, cousin,’ Freddy said. ‘You stick with me, you’ll get that book of yours written in no time at all.’

’I just might,’ Frodo said. ‘You wouldn’t care to read it, would you?’

’Probably not,’ Freddy said. ‘On the other hand, you might need someone to check your spelling or tell you all the things you’ve left out.’

’I’m the one who told him he left out the trees,’ Estella said, having returned with the tea tray a moment before. She now busied herself pouring out and fixing fresh cups for Frodo and Fredegar.

’Well, then, you’d best let Estella read it too,’ Freddy said. Seeing Frodo hesitate, he said, ‘What is it, cousin?’

’It’s not all fireworks and birthday parties, you know, Freddy,’ Frodo answered slowly.

’I know that. It’s about the Ring, after all. I was one of the original conspirators, remember?’

’But Estella—‘ Frodo protested.

’The midge knew as much about it as I did, after you disappeared. She has a way of worming information out of a fellow, as you ought to know quite well,’ Freddy said equably.

’Effectually annoying, like all midges,’ Frodo agreed. ‘Very well, midge,’ he said, addressing Estella, ‘on one condition.’

’What is that?’ Estella asked.

’That you let Freddy read it first, and only if he approves shall he pass it on to you. It is for your own protection,’ he added as she bridled. ‘Merry wasn’t sure I ought to write the story at all, you know. Pippin is all for it, of course; he wanted to lock me up in a tower in Minas Tirith so I could get it all down properly!'

’Merry?’ Estella said, subsiding as Frodo thought she would at the mention of the name. ‘Why not?’

’He fears that the darkness will stain the hearts of the hobbits who read the tale.’

’You don’t have to worry about me,’ Freddy said quietly. ‘My heart is already tainted by evil; my mind has known its shadow. Your tale can do me no further damage, I think.’

’Freddy!’ Estella gasped, but Frodo nodded.

’I know, Freddy, or I would not have let you begin to read at all,’ he said. ‘Still, your heart is not as tainted as some. Perhaps you can tell me if there are parts I ought to leave out.’

 ‘I’ll do my best, Frodo,’ Freddy said. Estella had the feeling that the two of them hardly noticed she was in the room with them at all, but then suddenly, her brother stirred himself, gulped down his tea, and held out his cup for more. ‘Did you manage to make sure this pot was properly hot, Babe?’ he said casually.

’Of course, Gaffer,’ she replied promptly, filling his cup, adding milk and sugar, and stirring well. She put the pot down again, seeing that Frodo’s cup was still quite full. ‘I know how it keeps the ache from your old bones, after all.’ She picked up the papers from Freddy’s lap, tapped them straight, and handed them to Frodo.

’Thanks, midge,’ he said. ‘I’ll go write down those trees now so that I won’t forget to put them in later.’

’You do that,’ Estella said firmly. ‘But drink your tea first, before it goes cold.’

Chapter 36. Sweeping Troubles Out

Freddy awakened on the Last Day of the year to see Frodo standing by the bed.

’Eh? What?’ he murmured, confused. ‘Is it time to eat again already?’

’No,’ Frodo said, smiling, ‘although Mrs Cotton got up extra early to make me a bite. She seems to think she cannot let me out the door unless I’m stuffed to the eyebrows, or word’ll get about that she’s a poor hostess.’

’You’re off to the Smials, then,’ Freddy said, comprehension dawning. ‘Wish them all there a glad Yule from me.’

’I will,’ Frodo said. ‘Go back to sleep now.’

’I will,’ Freddy echoed, turning over. Frodo turned the lamp down again and stepped softly from the room.

On this day, Mrs Cotton and Rose started early in the kitchen, turning out festive food of all sorts. Estella wanted to help, but felt she ought to stay with Freddy, with Frodo gone. Marigold Gamgee arrived with her gaffer shortly before elevenses and joined the fray, while her old father held forth in the parlour and Farmer Cotton and his sons listened respectfully.

After the noontide meal, Mrs Cotton good-naturedly shooed the good Farmer and his sons and the Gaffer out of the house. ‘Go take yourselves off and don’t come back until teatime!’ she said. ‘There’s work to be done, sweeping out the dust and troubles of the Old Year and all!’

’Then I had better take myself off as well,’ Freddy’s voice was heard from the hallway, ‘I’ve been gathering dust now for a good while.’

’Mr Freddy! What are you doing out of bed!’ Mrs Cotton scolded.

He smiled at her. ‘Now don’t throw the peaches into the jars half-skinned, Mrs Cotton,’ he said serenely. ‘I’ve been out of bed every day for a stroll to the bath and back.’

’And a good thing, too!’ Estella said stoutly at his side. ‘Just imagine if he hadn’t!’ she added wrinkling her nose, irrepressible as always.

’If’n you want to come with us to the Ivy Bush, lad,’ the Gaffer said, ‘it’d be my pleasure to buy you a pint.’

’How can I decline such a gracious offer?’ Freddy said. Farmer Cotton exchanged a look with his wife; she nodded and jumped into action.

’You’ll need to bundle up well,’ she said briskly, ‘it’s a bit chilly today,’ and suiting word to action, she wound a muffler about his neck, threw a cloak over him and fastened it tight, making sure the hood wouldn’t blow off even if it blew a gale outside (which didn’t seem likely, the weather being calm and clear if a bit cold). Freddy stood this treatment patiently, leaning the whole time on Estella’s arm with no comment but a smile.

When Farmer Cotton judged that his wife had finished her fussing, he nodded to his two oldest sons, and they stepped forward to take Freddy from either side. The younger sons were already outside, hitching up the ponies to the waggon.

’We’ll just carry you down the steps,’ Young Tom said, ‘easy as pie.’

’I wouldn’t know about that,’ Freddy said from behind the muffler. ‘I never made a pie.’

’Be back in time for tea!’ Mrs Cotton said in farewell.

Farmer Cotton kissed his wife. ‘We’ll take good care of the lad,’ he said. ‘If Samwise shows up here...’

’I’ll send him down to the Ivy Bush,’ Mrs Cotton said. ‘Of course, he’d probably stop by the Green Dragon and the Ivy Bush anyhow, on his way here. He’d know better than to look for you here when there’s the year’s dust to sweep away!’ She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘You do think he’ll come?’

’I cannot see him missing Last Day and grieving his old gaffer, no matter how put out he was by Mr Merry’s foolishness towards our Rose,’ Farmer Cotton said, giving his wife a reassuring squeeze. He raised his voice. ‘Well, we’re off!’

Rose and Marigold came from the back of the house, brooms in hand. ‘Farewell!’ they chorused, and Rose added, ‘Come, Tillie, and sweep with us!’ Mrs Cotton handed Estella a broom and took one up herself, and soon the house was full of singing and sweeping. Well before teatime, as much dust as could be found on Mrs Cotton’s spotless floors had been swept into a pile and on out the door, the table was scrubbed and laid with a festive cloth, the sideboard absolutely groaned with good food, and Mrs Cotton and the lasses had changed into their most festive clothes.

There had been a small argument during these preparations. Rose wanted to press her best dress upon Miss Estella, but Estella insisted that Rose wear her best and lend her second-best to Marigold. ‘I’ll take the next!’ she said gaily.

’But... that’s the same dress you’ve been wearing all along!’ Rose protested.

’If you keep fussing I’ll dive into the rag-bag for my dress,’ Estella warned, and Marigold laughed. She’d come to know “Tillie” over the course of many cups of tea.

’She’ll do it too, so don’t you push her, Rosie,’ Marigold said gaily, and Rose desisted. Estella then insisted on doing up the others’ hair the way they did in the great halls. When she was finished, the girls looked at each other in astonishment.

’Why, Rosie Cotton, I’d hardly know it was you!’ Marigold said breathlessly.

’I’d say the same for you, Mari,’ Rose said.

’I’d say Tom Cotton and Samwise Gamgee will have to take a second look, wouldn’t you?’ Estella said wickedly, laughing at Rose and Marigold’s blushes.

’What about you?’ Marigold said suddenly. ‘You ought to let us do your hair as fine as you’ve done ours!’

A shadow of pain crossed Estella’s face, but she seized a bright kerchief, saying gaily, ‘Ah no, I am to be the maid this day and you are the fine ladies!’ Marigold started to protest, but Rose pinched her and she subsided.

’Miss Estella!’ Mrs Cotton was heard to call from the kitchen, and Estella hurried to answer.

’She doesn’t dare dress her hair in a fancy way,’ Rose hissed to Marigold. ‘Don’t you remember how ill her brother is?’

’He looked very well indeed, as they left for the Ivy Bush!’ Marigold said in surprise.

’Yes, but the least little thing might set him off. Jolly mentioned “home” to him the other morn and he didn’t eat for half the day!’ Rose said urgently.

’I’m sorry, Rosie, I thought he was better,’ Marigold said.

’He is better,’ Rose said, ‘but there’s still a long road to travel before he’s well.’

***

Odovacar and Rosamunda Bolger turned up just before teatime. ‘We made an easy two-day journey,’ Freddy’s father told Mrs Cotton after they had finished hugging Estella and exchanging greetings with the rest. ‘The Road’s in good repair again, and all the inns are open.’

’How are repairs to the manse?’ Mrs Cotton asked.

’There’s a good month or so of work,’ Odovacar said. ‘Every room has to be scrubbed down and painted, from the smoke you know.’

Rosamunda laid aside her cloak, displaying the second-best dress of the gardener’s wife. ‘How’s Freddy?’ she asked.

’O he’s down at the Ivy Bush lifting a pint with the others,’ Mrs Cotton said casually, then smiled to see their reaction. ‘They ought to be back at any time; Mr Cotton knows better than to be late for tea!’

’He’s better, then?’ Rosamunda asked hopefully.

’He’s much better,’ Mrs Cotton said.

’You still have to watch your words,’ Estella said warningly, and her parents nodded. Frodo had written them about Freddy’s continued trouble with the thought of “home”.

The waggon was heard outside, and soon hobbit feet were stomping up the steps. Mrs Cotton threw open the door to show Tom and Jolly just setting Freddy down after carrying him up the steps. ‘You’re just in time!’ she welcomed them. ‘Tea’s just on.’ She moved forward to take Freddy’s arm, steadying him across the threshold and into the kitchen, where he was set upon by his parents.

It was indeed a festive meal, with Freddy at the table eating and laughing with the rest. True to her word, Estella was the “maid” and served the table, laughing and joking all the while and saying the most outrageous things, keeping everyone in stitches.

Samwise had come in with the others, for he had indeed joined them at the Ivy Bush. His eyes kept coming back to Rose in wonder; he’d never seen her hair done up quite so fancy before. She looked right fit to stand at Merry Brandybuck’s side, she did, but he put that thought away. Frodo had told him about Merry’s joke, and he had promised no hard feelings.

Teatime lasted well past suppertime, and then it was time for pipes by the fireside whilst the ladies put voluminous aprons on to protect their best frocks while they cleared away and washed up. All had just settled by the fireside with glasses of sherry, when a knock came at the door.

’It’s a bit early for “first footing”,’ Farmer Cotton said, glancing at the clock on the mantel. He set down his sherry and opened the door, to see a quick post rider standing there.

’Post for Mr Frodo Baggins, from the Master of Buckland,’ the rider said.

’Come in, warm your toes,’ Farmer Cotton said. ‘Nibs, see to t’pony.’ Nibs got up, threw on his cloak and went out the door.

’Is Mr Baggins here?’ the rider demanded. ‘The matter’s urgent.’

’No I’m sorry to say you’ve missed him,’ Farmer Cotton said. ‘He’s gone to the Great Smials for the holiday, and won’t be back for a week.’

The rider uttered an exclamation of dismay. ‘My pony’s about done in,’ he said. ‘I rode him hard, the last half of the journey. We left early this morning, and he threw a shoe. The first inn we came to didn’t have a smith, and the smith at the second had gone off to visit relatives, so we had to walk to the third inn before we got the shoe replaced.’ He shook his head. ‘I should have just borrowed a pony, but I don’t like to do that.’

’You can borrow one of ours, for the trip to the Smials,’ Farmer Cotton said. ‘Nick!’ That son went out to saddle up their fastest plow pony, nearly as fast as one of the gentry’s fancy ponies, he liked to boast, and steady enough to pull a plow the day long in the bargain.

In the meantime, Mrs Cotton poured the messenger a warming cup of tea, and he gulped it down with thanks before taking himself off again.

’I wonder what that was all about,’ Odovacar said when all were gathered once again.

’I’m sure Estella will get it out of Frodo if no one else does,’ Freddy said, sipping his sherry. He yawned.

Rosamunda was instantly solicitous. ‘Don’t you think you’ve been up long enough, Freddy?’ she asked.

’No thank you, Mother,’ he answered. ‘I am tired, ‘tis true, but I want to see the last of this old year! I’ll go to bed as soon as the New Year arrives, I promise!’

Actually he dozed a bit while they were waiting the old year out, so it didn’t matter. As the clock began to chime the midnight hour and the Cottons raised the old song, Freddy wakened. Farmer Cotton handed him a glass of wine and he joined in the song and the following toast.

A knock came at the door, a neighbour “first footing”, bringing luck for the New Year; Nick and Nibs had gone out to do the same for other neighbours. The Cottons and their guests showered him with gifts, drank a toast with him, and finally it was time to turn down the lamps, bank the fire, and seek their beds.

Chapter 37. Standing Back-to-Back

Frodo returned as planned and was warmly greeted by the Cottons. After checking on Freddy he went up to Bag End where Samwise was going over the plans with the builders. The new row was coming along nicely, holes delved into the hillside now being lined with brick taken from the  ruffians’ demolished works.

’My old gaffer and Marigold ought to be able to move into Number Three by the end of the month!’ Sam said cheerily.

’Why that is good news, Sam,’ Frodo said. ‘Once Bag End is finished it’ll be nearly as it was. When did you think that would be?’

’They’re still sanding the woodwork, and there’s the floors to be done,’ Sam said. ‘It might be as much as two or three months, I’m sorry to say.’

’Don’t be sorry!’ Frodo said. ‘From what I saw when we came back, I’m amazed you were able to salvage the old hole at all!’

’It’s not me you should give the credit to, but Sandy Hollowbank and his crew of workers,’ Sam said. ‘A harder-working bunch I have yet to meet.’

’I’ll have to invite them all to the hole-warming,’ Frodo said. ‘Make sure you get every name.’

’That I will,’ Sam replied, thinking that Mr Frodo always did do things right and proper.

They walked down the Hill together at the end of the day, stopping off at the Ivy Bush for a pint with Sam’s old gaffer though they didn’t stay long. Mrs Cotton was quite punctual in her meals after all.

Supper was a cheery meal, with the Bolgers all together at table with the Cottons and Frodo and Samwise. Frodo noted that Sam talked easily with Farmer Cotton and his sons and was polite to Rose. There were no more stammers and blushes on his part, but no easy friendliness either, more a sense of waiting, perhaps even wariness. It seemed that Merry’s ploy had yielded the opposite result from the one intended, but Frodo had no idea how to mend matters.

After supper Frodo sat down with Freddy and the good farmer for a pipe and then the cousins walked slowly to Freddy’s bed. ‘I can manage from here,’ Freddy said dismissively and Frodo’s eyebrows went up.

’You are much improved in just a week’s time, cousin,’ he said.

’Yes, well, it is a new year after all,’ Freddy answered. ‘Swept all my troubles out the door, and all that.’

When Frodo peeked in later Freddy was in his night-shirt, under the covers, sound asleep. There was no watcher by his side.

Odovacar came up behind and Frodo turned. ‘No watcher?’ he whispered.

’He doesn’t want one,’ Odo said quietly. ‘He’s a hobbit grown, and I must respect his wishes.’

’Is he well?’ Frodo asked. He was disquieted by Odo’s hesitation.

’I hope so,’ came the answer at last. ‘I surely hope he is.’

Next morning Freddy slept until second breakfast. ‘That’s not unusual,’ Estella said. ‘Why, in the old days he’d stay abed until elevenses sometimes. Had to work hard at keeping up the impression he was an idler you know.’

When Frodo came in with his breakfast tray Freddy said, ‘Well then, cousin, how much writing did you do?’

’You are a harsh taskmaster, cousin,’ Frodo answered.

’I’d like to read it over breakfast if I may,’ Freddy said. ‘Give me something to do besides chew.’

’You’ll drip tea on it,’ Frodo said. ‘And that after I took the trouble to write down all that Ferdibrand could tell me about the Party and the Speech. You’ll spill your tea all over it and get it sticky with jam, no doubt.’

’Indubitably,’ Freddy replied calmly. ‘But of course I will find so much fault that you’ll have to write it all out again anyhow.’

’Thanks for the reassurance,’ Frodo said.

’Anytime,’ answered Freddy.

He actually had a few good suggestions which Frodo noted down for future revision, and then, setting the papers aside, Freddy fixed him with a stern eye.

’Give,’ he said.

’What, as if I’m a dog with a stick for you?’ Frodo asked.

’You know what I mean,’ Freddy said. ‘A quick post rider arrived here late on Last Day, from the Master of Buckland. What did he want with you?’

’Ah, Master Saradoc finally discovered it was me that lifted the silver cake server on my last visit,’ Frodo said. ‘He wanted it back, you see.’

’And did you give it back?’ Freddy asked.

’I couldn’t, for I’d used it to dig a hole to bury the silver spoons I lifted from the Great Smials,’ Frodo answered.

’You’d tell me if something’d happened to Merry, wouldn’t you?’

Frodo hesitated a second too long and Freddy pounced. ‘Aha! Something did happen to our magnificent little cousin! But what?’

’Freddy,’ Frodo said in a warning tone.

’You know I’m not one to gossip, Frodo,’ Freddy said. ‘Though I love to gather information, wild ponies could not drag it out of me. You know that! If something’s happened to Merry, you’ve got to tell me.’ He was honestly upset, Frodo could see, and fearing that worry might set Freddy back in his recovery he considered carefully, then spoke.

’You know that the four of us travelled together,’ he said.

’Yes, you left together and returned together,’ Freddy answered. ‘I cannot account for the middle of the journey however.’

’You are wise,’ Frodo said. ‘As a matter of fact, we were two-and-two for some time.’

’Yes?’ Freddy encouraged when Frodo fell silent.

’Merry and young Pip went through some horrific experiences,’ Frodo said slowly.

’You mean, the things Merry doesn’t want you to write about,’ Freddy said shrewdly. ‘What’s happened to him? Even if he were having nightmares, not uncommon after a scare—I had them for weeks after... Crickhollow—that’s not enough to warrant a quick post letter...’

’You’re right,’ Frodo said, and fell silent once again.

’So what is it? He’s gone mad from lack of sleep? What?’ Freddy pressed.

’He nearly drowned himself in the Brandywine,’ Frodo said softly. He held up a restraining hand. ‘No, not like that, Freddy. He’s been sleepwalking ever since he went back to Buckland and left Pippin in the Great Smials. Well the night before Last Day, he sleepwalked himself right into the River. Berilac only pulled him out just in time.’

’Sleepwalking... at least that means he’s been sleeping,’ Freddy said to himself, then to Frodo he added, ‘The icy water didn’t waken him to his senses?’

’No,’ Frodo answered. ‘And Pip’s been having screaming nightmares as well.’ He was quiet again, thinking, and Freddy waited. Finally he went on. ‘Coming home, we hobbits slept piled together for warmth and safety. If you had a nightmare,’ and Freddy looked more closely at Frodo, suddenly certain that this cousin suffered a good measure of disturbed sleep, ‘you’d waken with cousins all around, just as if you were little again, visiting relatives, and had been tumbled onto a big bed together like a litter of pups. It was comforting, like being a child once more, and a safe feeling. I don’t know how to explain it,’ Frodo said helplessly.

’I think I understand,’ Freddy answered softly, thinking of the safe feeling he’d had in the midst of the wizard’s dreams. Saruman had known of the hobbit custom of hand-holding and had poisoned that, turning comfort into torment. But the wizard hadn’t known about the hobbit custom of snuggling close, and Freddy’s relatives had used that to anchor Freddy to reality and a feeling of safety and peace.

’Anyhow, the Master and Thain and I decided that it would be best if the twain were not parted so soon or so suddenly,’ Frodo said. ‘As a result, they will be together for some time, either at the Great Smials or at Buckland or wherever they may travel, but together, the better to fight off the shadows of memory.’

’Ah,’ Freddy said. ‘When you stand with a comrade back-to-back against a foe, you cannot be stabbed in the back or taken by surprise.’ At Frodo’s surprised look he shrugged. ‘I admit to reading old tales,’ he said. ‘Lots of battles, y’know. Quite uncomfortable I’m sure. Better to read about it than to live it: for my part, give me regular meals and baths and a soft bed to sleep in.’

’O yes,’ Frodo said softly. ‘When you stayed behind at Crickhollow, I knew you were surely a creature wedded to comfort.’

Freddy looked at him in astonishment and then began to laugh. Frodo joined in the laughter, and Estella came in smiling. ‘Is this a hopeful sign? Do I get to read more of the Great Story?’

’Have at it,’ Freddy said. ‘It’s only Bilbo’s speech, up until the disappearance.’

’Oh,’ Estella said, affecting disappointment. ‘Well I’m sure, cousin, that you can accomplish much more now that you’re back here.’

’You’ve a whole month,’ Freddy put in, ‘to take advantage of my good nature and impeccable spelling.’

’What do you mean, “a whole month”?’ Frodo asked, curiously disturbed though Freddy’s tone had been light, his countenance cheerful.

’Why, Budge Hall, of course! They expect to complete repairs sometime in February, and of course I will be returning to Bridgefields at that time. I cannot become a permanent fixture in the Cottons’ home, no matter how generous and gracious they have been up until now.’

’I see,’ Frodo said slowly. He looked at Estella, who was smiling, though her eyes seemed a bit anxious.

’Freddy’s ever so much better,’ she said now. ‘It’s as if a lot more than dust has been swept out with the old year.’

’Yes,’ Freddy said, ‘and don’t think I do not know why you wear those ridiculous kerchiefs, as if you’re about to go apple-gathering or something of the sort. You really ought to do your hair properly now that it’s growing out, as befitting your station, or people are going to talk.’

’Are you sure you don’t mind?’ Estella said, her hand going to her head.

’Mind?’ Freddy snorted. ‘Why should I mind? Rather... I do mind you looking like a farm lass. You’ll have farm lads coming round to ask you to walk out with them before you know it, and that would not be proper; no, it would not, at all.’

’Yes, Freddy,’ Estella said, unaccountably meek.

’There’s a good girl,’ Freddy said, capturing his sister’s hand and drawing her to him for a kiss on the cheek. ‘Now go away and come back when you’re looking as you ought, and you can have a crack at Frodo’s papers.’

’Yes, Freddy,’ Estella said again and left the room, Frodo staring after her.

’What’s got into her?’ Frodo said.

’Estella? She’s growing up,’ Freddy answered soberly. ‘Why, she’ll be marrying any time now.’

’Isn’t she a bit young?’ Frodo asked.

’She’s not the skinny little tag-along with scraped knees and bramble scratches any more, Frodo,’ Freddy said. ‘She’s a young lady, soon to take her place in society. It’s about time she put away her free-and-easy ways and took up her responsibilities.’

’Just as you have,’ Frodo said dryly.

Freddy looked him straight in the eye for a long moment. ‘Yes,’ he said finally. ‘Just as I am.'

Chapter 38. Fond Farewell

Marigold had stopped by to invite Rose and “Tillie” to tea. When Estella brought Freddy’s breakfast tray back to the kitchen, the two friends were washing up and chatting merrily.

’O Tillie!’ Marigold cried. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to come! Here, put this apron on and you can put away whilst Rose washes and I dry, or—would you prefer to wash?’

’I’ll put away,’ Estella said. She wound herself in an apron and took up the dishes as quickly as Marigold could dry them, listening to the girls’ chatter in silence.

Marigold turned to Estella, finally, saying, ‘...and if you could choose any hobbit at all to marry, who would it be?’

’That would be telling,’ Rose giggled. Estella did not join the gaiety on this occasion, however, simply turning a cool eye on the others, who sobered abruptly and exchanged uneasy glances.

’Tillie? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend...’ Marigold fumbled, but Estella hugged her, plate, dish towel and all.

’No offense, Marigold, it is simply that I’m not—not allowed to engage in such foolishness.’

Rose flushed and Estella hastened to explain. ‘My parents already have my husband picked out for me. I have known about the agreement for, o, these three or four years now. I shall marry to the advantage of my family, a husband befitting the daughter of the Bolger of Bridgefields.’

‘Whom are you to marry?’ Marigold asked slowly.

Estella dropped her eyes. ‘I do not know,’ she admitted. ‘There’s some problem or other, and my parents will tell me only when the contract is finalised.’

’Contract?’ Rose sputtered. ‘You’re to be sold like—like a pony? Or a piece of land?’

’You do not have your choice?’ Marigold said, her head whirling. She could not imagine such a thing.

’It is not so bad as all that,’ Estella said smoothly. ‘My parents are wise; I trust them to choose a hobbit who is kind and loving, of generous heart and good character. With the fortune that was settled upon me at my birth, I would hate to have to try to discern a hobbit who loved me for myself from one who only thought of the dowry I’d bring.’

Rose and Marigold exchanged glances once again. Estella spoke so matter-of-factly about fortune and a marriage not of her own choosing. They’d forgotten for a time, seeing her dressed like a farm lass, joining whole-heartedly in the work, laughing and joking and singing, that she came from a different world than they knew.

’Would it—could it be Merry Brandybuck, perhaps?’ Rose asked. She knew Estella had feelings for him; she’d seen the look in the girl’s eyes. Now she realised that Estella had not concealed her interest to be coy but for other reasons.

’No,’ Estella said lightly. ‘No, my brother is to marry a Brandybuck, so it falls to my lot to marry a Took more likely than not.’ She seized the cup that Marigold had been drying and hung it neatly on its hook. ‘Come now, let us finish this task or it will be time for elevenses before second breakfast is put away!’

They set to their work with a will, singing so sweetly that Freddy and Frodo, sitting in Freddy’s room, fell silent to listen and did not resume their game of Kings until the song ended with the task.

’That was marvellous!’ Marigold laughed, hanging up her apron. ‘We shall have to sing that one for my old gaffer. You are coming to tea with Rosie, are you not?’ she asked Estella.

’No,’ Estella answered. ‘I am so sorry, but I cannot. You see, I’ll be going away.’

’Going away?’ Rose echoed. ‘Are your parents taking you back to Bridgefields?’

’No, not quite,’ Estella said. ‘But I will not be able to play anymore, to walk to market with a basket on my arm or even take tea with the Gaffer.’ She held out a hand to Marigold. ‘It has been so nice to know you, Mari. I shall never forget our friendship.’

Marigold flew at her with a hug. ‘Nor shall I,’ she said decidedly. ‘You will come back to visit us, won’t you?’

Estella hesitated. ‘I cannot promise anything,’ she said. ‘My brother has reminded me that it is time to set the holidays behind and take up my duties once again.’ She smiled wistfully at Rose. ‘O but it has been good to be a part of your family, if only for a little.’

Rose joined the hug. ‘I shall miss you,’ she said with a sniff.

’Now don’t cry,’ Estella said, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbing at Rose’s face. ‘We knew this could not last forever and that I would have to go some time.’

’When are you going?’ Marigold said.

’I should be gone by teatime,’ Estella said, ‘so we had better make our farewells now. I shall always remember you with love.' Her voice quivered as she added, 'Bless you both.' She took a deep breath and steadied her voice with an effort. 'I hope you will be very happy with your hobbits... and Rose, I’ve no doubt at all that Samwise will speak one of these days. I only hope he deserves you.’

At tea in the Gamgee’s ramshackle house, scheduled to be pulled down as soon as the new Number Three was ready, Rose and Marigold talked about Estella’s revelation. ‘You know, I used to envy those girls in the marketplace with their fine gowns and elegant silk and lace and servants following them about carrying things,’ Marigold said. ‘But now...’

’I know what you mean,’ Rose said. ‘I wouldn’t trade with one of them for anything!’

’Besides,’ Marigold said slyly, ‘you know that Samwise would never speak to you, were you one of the gentry.’

’He may never speak to me as it is,’ Rose said glumly and Marigold hastened to hug her friend and reassure her.

’He’s just waiting to finish his tasks,’ she said. ‘He’s traipsing all over the Shire planting trees you know. He won’t speak until he uses up the last of the dust that fine Lady gave him.’

’I hope he uses it up quick then,’ Rose said. ‘I’d pour it all out if I could!’

’You just wait. Once he gets our old gaffer settled in a proper hobbit hole and sees Mr Frodo all comfortable-like in Bag End—‘

’—and gets his trees all planted,’ Rose said dryly.

’And that!’ Marigold laughed. ‘And perhaps sees me married off to some good hobbit in the bargain—‘

’Perhaps I can light a fire under Tom,’ Rose offered.

’You do that,’ Marigold said. ‘Sam’s not the only hobbit who’s slow to speak!’ Just then old Hamfast Gamgee returned from inspecting the progress of his new hobbit hole, and talk turned to such proper topics as taters and tea.

Rose returned from tea with Marigold in time to bring Mr Freddy’s supper to him in his room. To her surprise, Estella had not left after all but was sitting with her brother. However, she’d left off the plain dress and kerchief. She was dressed as Rose had never seen her since the girl had returned from Tookland, in a fine gown trimmed with lace, her hair done up much as she’d done Rose’s and Marigold’s hair for the Yuletide celebration.

Before she could utter a friendly greeting Mr Freddy spoke. ‘Ah Rose,’ he said. ‘Miss Estella will require a tray as well, if you wouldn’t mind. She’s agreed to take her supper here with me this evening.’

’Yes sir,’ Rose said. She went to the kitchen, fixed a tray for Estella, and returned.

’Thank you, Rose,’ Estella said, taking the tray. Her tone was cool, elegant, impersonal. ‘We will let you know when you may clear away.’

’Thank you miss,’ Rose said automatically and stumbled away in confusion. She was upset and angry; whatever did Estella mean, putting on airs that way?

’Why whatever’s the matter, Rose?’ Mrs Cotton asked as her daughter returned to the kitchen.

’O nothing, rather, my head aches,’ Rose said, sniffing back tears.

’Ah,’ Mrs Cotton said. ‘Then why don’t you take yourself off to bed early this evening, child. I’ll do the washing up and fetch the trays.’

’Where’s Mr Frodo?’ Rose asked.

’It seems that aching heads are all too common this night,’ Mrs Cotton said with a troubled look. ‘He took himself off to bed early, saying he wasn’t hungry.’ She sighed. ‘He did a fair sight of writing, closed himself up in his room nearly all the day after sitting with Mr Freddy at second breakfast. I do hope he didn’t overdo: Samwise would be quite put out were he here.’ Sam was off on his forestry work again and wouldn’t be back for a fortnight.

’I could take him a tray,’ Rose volunteered, forgetting her excuse for a moment.

’No dearie, I peeked in on him whilst you were taking supper to Mr Freddy; he’s sound asleep,’ her mother said. ‘I’ll bring him something light when he wakens. You take yourself off to bed. If your head still bothers you I’ll bring you some tea later.’

’Thank you mum,’ Rose said and obediently took herself off. She actually did fall asleep, sleeping soundly the night through, wakening before any of the household. She got up, splashed water on her face and arms, slipped her dress on, and decided to go start the fire in the kitchen for her mother.

Creeping down the hallway she heard a soft sound and stood stock still, trying to identify its source. Finally in front of the door to Estella’s room she realised she was hearing muffled sobs. When she knocked quietly the sound stopped.

’Tillie?’ she whispered, then remembered. Tillie was gone. ‘Miss Estella? Is there anything you’d be needing?’

’No,’ Estella called back softly after a moment's silence. ‘No, I have all I require. Thank you, Rose.’

Chapter 39. Of People and Places

Samwise arrived on the wings of an icy freeze that swept across the Shire as it usually did after the January thaw. He stopped in to check on his old gaffer, fearing he’d find the old hobbit shivering in the badly-built house, but the Cottons had hauled a waggonload of firewood, already split and ready to burn, to his door and piled it outside. With a roaring fire in the stove, extra blankets found in the ruffians’ gatherings nailed to the walls, and no worry of running short of wood, Hamfast and Marigold kept warm despite the freezing temperatures outside.

Sam stayed long enough for a quick but warming cup of tea and then jumped back in the waggon and turned the pony’s head towards the Cottons’ farm. He was a bit worried at having left Mr Frodo for so long, though he’d come back from his other tree-planting efforts to a master who was to all appearances healthy, well-fed, and content.

His fears were justified. He found his master with the Bolger cousins in the Cottons' parlour, discussing the latest pages of the Story. Frodo was noticeably thinner to Sam’s eyes, fresh as they were from his being gone a little more than a fortnight. There were faint shadows under his master’s eyes, and a small tremor in the fingers of the right hand, hardly perceptible to anyone but Sam, perhaps.

In his shock he said more forcibly than he might’ve otherwise, ‘What have you been doing to yourself? Shutting yourself up, writing, neglecting your meals and your sleep?’

’Samwise,’ Frodo said gently, holding up a restraining hand.

Freddy glanced sharply from Samwise to Frodo. ‘He has been writing an awful lot since returning from Tookland,’ he said slowly. ‘Don’t let him tell you differently, Sam.’

’I am well,’ Frodo insisted. ‘I just want to get as much down as I can whilst it’s fresh in my mind. I promise, I’ll take tonight off, eat a good supper, go to bed early.’

’I certainly hope so,’ Sam said, still upset.

’Samwise, my good fellow, would you mind bothering Mrs Cotton for a cup of tea? I find I cannot wait the hour or so before supper is served, but am perishing for a cup at this very moment,’ Freddy said smoothly.

’I’d be happy to, Mr Freddy,’ Sam said, then fixed Frodo with a stern look. ‘You go lie yourself down, Mr Frodo. Take a rest. I’ll call you when supper is served.’

Estella had watched the little scene with growing astonishment and now saw her cousin meekly nod and say, ‘I do believe I will, Samwise, thank you.’

When she was alone with Freddy, she looked back to find her brother regarding her with amusement. ‘If you were a cat, you’d be all puffed out, your tail thrice its normal size,’ he drawled.

’How can—how can our illustrious cousin allow his—‘ Estella was at a loss for words.

’—his gardener to speak to him with such cheek?’ Freddy finished for her.

’Exactly!’ Estella said. ‘Why, you certainly scolded me roundly for being too familiar with Rose and Mari, and now you don’t bat an eye—‘

’Samwise would jump down a dragon’s throat for Frodo,’ Freddy interrupted. ‘Probably already has, though I haven’t read about it yet.’ He tapped the untidy pile of papers threatening to slide off the sofa.

’But—‘ Estella said.

’He’s not just a gardener, our Samwise is not.’ Freddy went on. ‘He was wearing mail when he first returned, and he’s got a grey cloak like Frodo’s, finer than anything I’ve ever seen woven by hobbits, and he only recently left off wearing a sword, when he was sure no more ruffians remained in the Shire to menace his beloved master.’

’Very well, we’ll grant that Samwise is more of a companion than a gardener; he’s risen as high as a secretary, perhaps,’ Estella said.

’Perhaps “nursemaid” is closer to the truth,’ Freddy said dryly.

In spite of herself, Estella laughed. ‘He does remind me of a governess,’ she said. ‘Fussing at the children to wear their jumpers when it’s brisk and eat all their vegetables.’ She sobered again, turning a hard look on her brother. ‘So why am I not allowed friendship with Rosie and Mari anymore?’ She took a deep breath. ‘For that matter, I’ve never heard you chide Pippin Took the way you chided me...’

’That’s different,’ Freddy said.

’How is it different?’ Estella said, an edge of frustration in her tone. ‘He’s the son of the Thain, isn’t he? Yet he’s allowed to be friendly with Samwise and the Cottons and any number of other hobbits.’

’He was the son of a farmer up until a few years ago,’ Freddy said. ‘We have to make allowances until he learns his place.’

’Learns his place,’ Estella said bleakly. ‘Just as I must learn mine?’

Freddy covered her hand with his. ‘It is difficult to grow up, I know,’ he said. ‘I put it off myself for years. But we cannot be children, playing with the servants’ children, any longer. We have a duty and a responsibility—‘

‘Why?’ Estella said. ‘You know, the only good thing about living under the ruffians was that all hobbits were in the same mess. We had to help each other to survive. There were no “great hobbits” and “common hobbits”, there were just hobbits! Why do we have to go back to the way it was before?’

‘Because it has been that way for more time than anyone can remember,’ Freddy said.

’ “It has always been that way”—a specious excuse!‘ Estella snapped.

’It works,’ Freddy said simply. ‘We all know our places, we stick in them, and the Shire works. You know it does, Estella, you know that I have the right of it.’

’No I don’t know anything of the sort,’ Estella said, but then Samwise returned with a cup of tea for Freddy and another for Estella.

’Thank you, Samwise,’ Freddy said. ‘Most obliging of you.’

’Happy to be of service, sir,’ Sam said. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just check on Mr Frodo.’

’Go right ahead,’ Freddy answered. Samwise nodded to Freddy, bowed to Estella and left the parlour.

’You see, he’s “happy to be of service”,’ Freddy said. ‘He knows his place and is comfortable in it, and if you try to push him out of it he’s likely to bite.’

’Bite?’ Estella said.

’Well, perhaps not “bite”,’ Freddy said thoughtfully. ‘But he’ll settle deeper into his garden bed like the rock that he is. I’ve even heard him correct Frodo, so-very-subtly, when our cousin has been overly familiar.’

’No,’ Estella said, ‘I don’t believe it.’

’O yes,’ Freddy nodded. ‘Listen carefully, Estella. You said yourself, he sounds like a governess correcting a wilful child. Just because he’s of a lower class does not mean he is actually lower—why, I believe he has more influence over Frodo than I do, and I’m Frodo’s kin!’

’But—’ Estella said.

’Drink your tea, sister,’ Freddy said. ‘After all, Samwise went to the trouble to bring it for you.’ And that was all the answer she was able to get from him on the subject.

***

Estella did listen carefully over the next few days. She noticed that Frodo meekly allowed Sam to bully him into eating and resting, though he insisted on spending several hours each afternoon writing. Frodo allows himself to be managed, she thought in wonder. She remembered the servants back home who managed herself and her parents. They had a certain measure of power that they might not have had otherwise. It was a puzzle. She still did not understand why her friendship with Rose and Marigold was wrong, until finally she asked Frodo, when she brought him a cup of tea one afternoon.

’It is to protect them, not yourself, midge,’ Frodo said, putting down his pen and rubbing at his eyes.

’Protect them?’ she asked.

’They might be accused of “putting on airs” or thinking too much of themselves,’ Frodo said quietly. ‘I’ve seen it happen before. We’re curious folk. We know our places, and we resent it when we see someone try to move out of his place, to claim a freedom that we ourselves are unwilling to sacrifice to attain.’

’I don’t understand,’ Estella said slowly. Frodo patted her hand.

’You will someday, cousin. You’ve a good head on your shoulders. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that your sphere in life is an ornamental one.’

’My parents don’t believe that at all,’ Estella flared. ‘They are training me to oversee the running of a great hole one day. Let me tell you, it is no easy matter!’

’You don’t have to tell me,’ Frodo said. ‘I lived for twenty-one years in Brandy Hall after all. Thinking back, I wondered how so many hobbits could live together in such harmony—most of the time—but I realise now that it was mostly due to good management on the part of the Mistress.’ He rubbed at his eyes again.

’Are you tired, cousin?’ Estella said solicitously. ‘Let me wring out a cloth in cold tea and lay it over your eyes. You drink your tea and then lie yourself down. I shall return shortly.’

When she returned, Frodo was writing again, his tea going cold, forgotten on the edge of the desk. ‘Frodo!’ she scolded. ‘I thought you were going to lie down!’

‘I just wanted to get this little bit done, cousin,’ Frodo said, but then Samwise spoke up from the doorway.

’It is time to rest, Mr Frodo. Your cousin’s right. You’ve been pegging away for hours now.’ He stepped into the room, took the pen right out of Frodo’s hand, wiped it and set it down. ‘Come along, sir, lie down on the bed and let Miss Estella lay that cloth over your eyes. You’ll feel all the better for it.’

Frodo sighed but obediently sought his pillow. Estella wrung out the tea-soaked cloth in the basin and laid it over his eyes, then began to gently soothe his forehead with her fingertips. Soon he was asleep.

’Thank you, Samwise,’ she said sofly.

‘You’re most welcome, Miss,’ he said. ‘I’ll just take myself off and see if Mr Freddy needs anything.’

Estella nodded. Managing ways indeed: the gardener would probably have Freddy taking a nap as well, though her brother had given up naps in recent days. Samwise certainly knew his place.

Chapter 40. Thoughts of Home

Samwise continued to come and go well into February, pursuing his forestry business in the Southfarthing where the ground did not freeze. Those at the Cotton farm saw less of him now that the New Row was finished. He’d moved his things into the new “Number Three” when Hamfast and Marigold removed to their new hobbit hole.

Mr. Frodo surprised the Gamgees with a grand hole-warming party, and many hobbits came to bless their new home, bearing gifts of food and household articles. Rose brought a rug she’d braided from scraps of wool, Mrs. Cotton brought jars of jam and preserves, and Farmer Cotton brought another waggonload of firewood which his sons had neatly stacked in less time than it takes to tell. Frodo produced a bottle of fine vintage, fetched by messenger from Crickhollow, and there were many other presents, great and small. A fine time was had by all and the Gamgees were settled comfortably in their new hole, their pantry stuffed with good things by the time the last guest departed. Samwise, however, still showed no sign of speaking to Rose. She reminded herself that Mr. Frodo was not yet returned to Bag End and tried to hold her peace.

As has been said, Sam continued his journeys around the Shire, returning occasionally to Bywater to check on his old gaffer and on Mr. Frodo, though Freddy had taken over as nursemaid for his cousin. Under Freddy’s constant watch, Frodo limited his writing to a few hours a day and never missed a meal. He complained that it slowed the writing.

’What’s your hurry?’ Freddy asked over tea one afternoon in the middle of February. ‘You’ve an entire lifetime to finish the Story. Take your time, get it right, and take time to live whilst you’re at it.’

’I could slip and fall getting out of bed on the morrow, hit my head and that would be the end of things,’ Frodo said. ‘Lifetime, you say?’

’Bite your tongue, cousin!’ Estella said with a shudder.

’You’ve your whole life ahead of you,’ Freddy said firmly. ‘Don’t try to live it all in a month or two, or even a year.’

’Speak for yourself,’ Frodo said with meaning. At Freddy’s surprised look he continued, ‘I’ve noticed how vigorously you’ve applied yourself to getting well; you eat everything that’s set before you, you walk a little further every day, you speak only of cheerful things...’

’O yes?’ Freddy said politely. ‘Is there some sort of problem?’

’You are in such a rush to go home,’ Frodo said soberly, ‘yet you never speak of the future beyond that.’

’I cannot stay here at the Cottons’ forever,’ Freddy said calmly. ‘They’ll have to adopt me, and then what will Odovacar do for an heir?’

’Do you still think you’re going home to die?’ Frodo asked softly.

Freddy didn’t answer, simply stared into the dregs of his tea, while a fist of fear clenched Estella’s heart.

’Freddy?’ she said, scarcely breathing.

’I could slip and fall getting out of bed on the morrow,’ Freddy quoted in a low voice. ‘Why should I fear death?’ he added, lifting his head, his voice growing stronger. ‘It will come to us all in time.’

’But Freddy—‘ Frodo said.

Freddy held up a hand to stop him. ‘I do not know what the future holds,’ he said. ‘I’m stronger now. Strong enough, I hope.’ He tapped Frodo’s plate. ‘You, on the other hand, have yet to finish your tea.’

’I couldn’t eat another bite,’ Frodo said.

’O yes, I think you can, rather,’ Freddy contradicted, drawing out the last word for emphasis. ‘I’ll have to tell Samwise if you don’t, you see.’

’I’ll have to come to Bridgefields with you to get away from him,’ Frodo said, reluctantly picking up the untouched scone on his plate.

’Here, my venerable and ancient cousin, slather it with cream and jam and it will slip down your throat quite easily,’ Estella said, dropping a large dollop of cream on Frodo’s plate.

’My thanks,’ Frodo said, following her advice. ‘How about another cup of tea?’

’Pot’s empty,’ Estella said, lifting that article. ‘I’ll be back with more!’ She rose smoothly from the sofa, much more sure of herself than when she had first begun to wear the fancy but cumbersome clothing befitting her status.

When she was gone Frodo sighed.

’What is it, Frodo?’ Freddy asked.

’She’s growing up so fast; I do believe I’ll be asked to dance at her wedding soon.’

’So it seems,’ Freddy said thoughtfully. ‘I had wondered whom my parents had picked out. I know there’s an agreement but they’ve kept it quiet for some reason.’ He eyed Frodo keenly. ‘There was some sort of problem; I half thought it was because you disappeared.’

Frodo choked on a bit of scone and Freddy slapped his back apologetically.

’I’m nearly old enough to be her father!’ Frodo said indignantly.

’It is not you then,’ Freddy said, ‘though age has seldom been a stumbling block in the great families. My own Uncle Rudi has his eye on a youngish Took...’
 
’Safe to say, it is not I,’ Frodo answered. His curiosity was aroused. ‘Who then?’ he asked. ‘Merry?’

’I doubt it,’ Freddy said, leaning back. ‘I was supposed to marry Melilot Brandybuck last year, right about the time the ruffians threw me into the Lockholes as a matter of fact. Poor Melly, left in the lurch! My father’s said nothing about it since... perhaps the Master of Buckland is waiting to see if I survive the return to Budge Hall.’

’Don’t jest so!’ Frodo said.

’Who’s jesting?’ Freddy answered calmly. ‘In any event, we would not both marry Brandybucks; that’s not the way the Bolgers do things.’

’Your father married a Took and his brother “has his eye” on a Took,’ Frodo argued.

’You know, you’re right,’ Freddy said thoughtfully, then shook his head. ‘No, the agreements for our marriages were formed quite awhile ago. Though we may have changed a bit under the ruffians, those agreements remain in force unless formally dissolved... and you’d hear about that. It would be all the talk. Uncle Rudi was supposed to marry a Boffin I think, but she died before they could marry. I was surprised to hear he was thinking of marriage — to a Took at that! — as a matter of fact.’ He ate the last of his scone. ‘It may come to nothing,’ he concluded. ‘Rudi hasn’t even mentioned it to anyone.’

’How do you know, then?’ Frodo wanted to know.

Freddy chuckled. ‘He was thinking out loud one night, watching by my bedside. He didn’t know I heard him, I suspect. I was quite ill at the time.’

Estella returned with the pot and refreshed everyone’s cup and Frodo was able to choke down the rest of his scone.

The next day the Bolger cousins and Frodo took tea with the Cottons and Gamgees, for Samwise had returned for a few days before going off again.

’Perhaps you’d like to come with me, Mr. Frodo,’ he said. ‘Take a break from the writing, breathe some fresh air, see the sights. The Shire is beginning to turn green again, with the early spring we’re having.’

’So mild for mid-February,’ Farmer Cotton agreed. ‘Why, the cherry trees are in full bloom!’

’I keep wanting to check on the trees I planted, though I know nothing can have come of that yet,’ Samwise admitted, then sat up straight, flushing in excitement. ‘But—you know that little silver nut that was in my box, Mr. Frodo?’

’I remember,’ Frodo said.

’I planted it where the Party Tree had stood, if you remember, and... it’s sprouted already!’

’Has it, Sam? How interesting,’ Freddy said, raising an eyebrow.

’It has! It’s knee-high already, growing faster than any tree I’ve ever seen, and has silver bark. Do you think it might be a mallorn?’ Sam asked eagerly.

’I don’t know, Samwise; a mallorn,’ Frodo said slowly, ‘that would be quite a wonder.’

’Mallorn?’ Farmer Cotton asked. ‘I’m not familiar with that kind of tree.’

’They grow in the Elven wood of Lothlorien,’ Sam said. ‘I told you about the little golden flowers there, Rose, didn’t I?’

Rose nodded. Sam had told her about the beautiful parts of the journey, when she’d been at the Gamgees for tea with Marigold. From little bits of discussion she’d overheard when the Bolgers were in the parlour with Frodo, she knew that a lot more had gone on that Sam had not mentioned.

’An Elf-tree, here in the Shire!’ Young Tom marvelled. ‘Imagine that!’

’Let us not count our chickens until they’re in the pot,’ Farmer Cotton warned. ‘It could be nothing more amazing than a silver beech or somewhat.’

’We’ll have to wait until it leafs out, in March do you think?’ Frodo said. ‘By that time I ought to be back in Bag End and can check on it regularly.’

’You’ll have to write and let us know,’ Freddy put in. ‘We’ll have been back in Bridgefields for weeks by that time.’ As the others turned to him he added, ‘The latest letter says that all is ready. We just need to pack up and be on our way.’

There were exclamations from all. ‘I cannot believe you are leaving us,’ Mrs. Cotton said at the last. ‘Why, it feels just as if you are a part of the family!’

’You have been too kind,’ Freddy answered. ‘This feels so much like home now that I fear I will feel like a visitor at Budge Hall.’

That would be all to the good, Frodo thought to himself. Aloud he said. ‘I believe I shall take a break from writing and accompany you there.’ Sam looked pleased. He thought his master had been overdoing and a break would be good for him. Estella looked pleased as well, for a different reason. For all intents and purposes Freddy seemed to be back to his old self. Still worry gnawed at her. She didn’t know exactly what she expected, but she was very glad that Frodo would be there.

Chapter 41. Home is Where the Hobbit Is

The next day, Odovacar and Rosamunda arrived in their coach, looking much as they had in the old days before the ruffians. The Cottons felt a bit shy, seeing them in their finery, but the Bolgers were as unaffected as ever and soon the Cottons relaxed again.

Packing up took less than a day, and after a farewell breakfast they were ready to depart. The Gamgees came down the Hill to share breakfast and see the travellers off, Samwise included, for he had not yet departed on his own journeying. The Cottons and Gamgees lined the steps as the Bolgers descended with a hug for each one.

’I do not know how I can ever thank you,’ Mistress Bolger said tearfully to Mrs Cotton. ‘You took us in; you saved our son’s life. We owe you so much.’

’Bless you,’ Mrs Cotton said, tears in her own eyes. ‘Any other hobbit would have done the same.’

Farmer Cotton pulled Odovacar Bolger aside. ‘If things do not go well...’ he began, then looked down, shuffling his feet.

’We are hoping for the best,’ Odovacar said. ‘My thanks for all you’ve done.’

Farmer Cotton met his eye once again. ‘If things do not go well,’ he said firmly, ‘you bring him back here. There will always be a place for him. It’s the least we can do, after what he gave for the Shire.’

Odovacar met his gaze for a long moment then nodded. ‘You have my thanks,’ he said again, holding out his hand. Farmer Cotton took hold and the two shook solemnly.

’Sealing bargains, are we?’ Freddy said, catching sight of the two as he descended the steps.

’Just making sure the good farmer ships his first waggonload of apples this year to Buckland, for your cousin Merry, with your regards,’ Odovacar said cheerily.

’Ah,’ Freddy said briskly. ‘There’s nothing like planning ahead.’ All laughed, remembering an earlier waggonload.

’I understand that Captain Merry is inordinately fond of apples,’ Farmer Cotton said.

’Yes, I had heard something to that effect,’ Freddy said. He held out his own hand to the farmer. ‘My thanks,’ he said simply.

Farmer Cotton took the hand, held it for a moment. ‘Be well, lad,’ he said quietly.

Freddy nodded without speaking, hugged Mrs Cotton (“If you weren’t already married I’d carry you off, you know!”) and shook hands with each of the Cotton sons, Hamfast, and Samwise. He bowed over the hands of Rose and Marigold.

Estella said her farewells, hugging Mrs Cotton, nodding to the rest. She paused in front of Rose, looking to her parents. At her mother’s nod she smiled at Rose, holding out her hand. ‘I will never forget your kindness,’ she said softly. Rose impulsively hugged her; Estella stiffened then suddenly her arms went around Rose and she returned the embrace fiercely, whispering, ‘You have been the sister I always wanted.’ Marigold had a hug for Estella as well. ‘Goodbye, dear friend,’ Estella whispered in her ear.

Marigold’s arms tightened briefly. ‘Grace go with you, Tillie,’ she answered, and then stepped back.

’Well then,’ Freddy said loudly. ‘We had better depart or it’ll be time to stop for second breakfast and we shall never be off!’ Laughing, the Bolgers and lone Baggins climbed into the coach. The waving hobbits on the steps raised a song as the ponies started and the coach jerked into motion. They sang until the coach reached the end of the lane and then returned into the Cotton home for a restorative cup of tea.

The travellers made it an easy two-day journey, stopping over at a familiar inn half-way to Budge Ford. ‘Why, it’s as if the ruffians were never here!’ Estella exclaimed, seeing the jollity in the common room as they entered. Of course her parents took her to their own room, where they had a private supper, but Frodo and Freddy joined the crowd in the common room for a pint and a game of darts, returning very merry indeed.

’You’re right, midge,’ Frodo said, looking in on his way to the room he and Freddy shared. ‘The Shire seems to be recovering nicely.’ He and Freddy had a final cup of tea with Rosamunda and Estella and took themselves off to bed, looking quite fresh and relaxed.

The next day, they forded the Water about an hour before teatime. ‘Don’t look now,’ Odovacar warned his son as they drove through the little community by the Ford. Hobbits lined the streets, cheering and waving bright cloths.

’Greeting the Bolger?’ Freddy asked.

’Hardly!’ laughed his mother.

His father added, ‘Greeting the Bulge, you know!’ He was referring to the name the ruffians had given Freddy, much as his cousin Ferdibrand Took had been “the Fox” and Merimac Brandybuck, “the Badger”.

In fact, Freddy’s rebels were standing in a group before Budge Hall, even Budgie and Robin, who’d returned from Waymeet for the grand occasion. They sang a welcoming song as the coach pulled up before the manse, and as Freddy hopped out he was immediately surrounded by back-slapping well-wishers.

’Welcome home, Mr Freddy,’ old Oakleaf, the gardener said at last. He cocked an eye at the lowering clouds. ‘We had better get indoors before we’re soaked!’

’You’re right,’ Odovacar said, putting an arm around Freddy’s shoulders and turning towards the manse.

Being managed very nicely, Estella thought, catching Frodo’s eye and receiving a wink and a nod.

‘Everyone come inside!’ Rosamunda called. ‘We’re having a grand tea to celebrate!’ Laughing hobbits crowded inside, finding a lavish buffet spread in the great hall of the manse. Soon everyone was eating and drinking and talking at once, a grand sound, just like “old times”.

Freddy’s rebels surrounded him, protectively, Estella thought, though there seemed no need. Her brother was more animated than she’d seen him in months, so busy laughing and talking that he paid no mind to the food that was put before him.

During a lull in the conversation, Stony excused himself, returning with something long and slim, wrapped in a piece of cloth. ‘I took a little excursion to the Brockenbores,’ he said in answer to Freddy’s inquiring look.

Freddy untied the twine that held the cloth, unwrapping a heavy walking stick, several lines of marks scored neatly along the sides. ‘My old stick,’ he breathed.

Stony pointed. ‘That’s the mark you made, that last day, just before the ruffians smoked us out,’ he said. ‘You left it behind, thinking your parents might find it some day, have something to remember you by.’ He looked into the sober faces of Freddy’s parents. ‘I just thought you’d like to have it again, now that they won’t need it.’

’Thank you, Stonecrop,’ Freddy said formally.

’You’re welcome, Mr Freddy,’ Stony said. ‘I imagine ‘twas our raids on the ruffians' storeholes that kept my family, and others, from starving under the ruffians. And we couldn’t have done it without you.’

’They took us, in the end,’ Freddy said.

’They did, but you tricked them enough times. We’d’ve been in the Lockholes months earlier without your tricks, Mr Freddy,’ Rocky put in. The others murmured soft agreement.

Robin called suddenly in his clear voice, ‘A toast!’ The call was taken up by others, and the crowds of hobbits throughout the manse fell silent. ‘A toast!’ Robin shouted once more. Lifting his teacup, he added, ‘To the Bulge!’ The call repeated throughout the rooms of the manse, wherever knots of hobbits stood; teacups were raised, and all drank to Fredegar Bolger, who with his band of rebels had staved off hunger from stalking the hobbits of Budgeford and its environs.

’I... thank you all,’ Freddy said quietly, then held out his hands. ‘I could not have done it without these fine, brave hobbits!’ He raised his own cup. ‘To the rebels of Bridgefields!’ All drank, and then the gaiety recommenced.

The party lasted hours, but finally hobbits began leaving, those with animals and chores slipping out early, others following as darkness fell and the servants began to remove empty platters without replenishing them. Finally only Freddy’s rebels and their families remained. ‘Please join us for late supper,’ Rosamunda said. ‘It is such a happy occasion, I hate for the celebration to end just yet.’

The cook and her assistants had worked hard to make the tea and the supper that followed memorable. The food was delicious and plentiful, and the hobbits enjoyed more than one helping, with the exception of the rebels, who did not eat quite as much as the other members of their families did, and the rebel leader, who hardly ate a bite but laughed and talked throughout the meal.

Finally, Healer Finch spoke up. ‘I expect you are all tired from the long journey,’ he said, looking from one Bolger to another. ‘We thank you for your grand hospitality, but I think we must take our leave now.’ His family rose obediently, bowing to Odovacar and thanking him together. ‘It is good to have you home, Mr Freddy,’ Finch said. ‘I’ll be by on the morrow to see how you’re settling in.’

’No need,’ Freddy laughed. ‘As I did not drop dead when I crossed the threshold, I imagine there was nothing to the wizard’s words after all. He was a liar, you know, and his lies only harmed those who believed them.’ There was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the rebels, though Robin looked troubled.

Finch’s hand tightened on Robin’s shoulder. ‘That’s good to hear, Mr Freddy,’ he said. ‘I’ll be by on the morrow in any event, to take those splints off your hand.’

’That is good news!’ Freddy said brightly. ‘It will be nice to have two hands again!’

The rest of the guests rose and thanked the Bolgers, then filed out the door. Freddy stood by the door with a word and a hug for each.

’We made it, Mr Freddy,’ Robin said at the last. ‘They couldn’t beat us. But take care, please?’

’I always take care, Robin,’ Freddy said. ‘You take care of yourself, now. It is good to see you looking so hale and hearty again.’

’Thank you, Mr Freddy,’ Robin said. ‘Take care, now,’ he repeated. Estella was puzzled at his insistence.

’Good night, all!’ Rosamunda called. The Bolgers stood in the doorway, waving farewell to their guests.

’I’m tired; I think I’ll turn in,’ Freddy said with a yawn as he turned away from the door.

’Would you like a little something to eat before you retire?’ Rosamunda asked, winding an arm around her son’s waist.

’O no, I am so stuffed I could not eat another bite!’ Freddy said, patting his belly.

’Very well then, you get a good rest and we’ll see you at breakfast,’ his mother answered with a kiss for his cheek. ‘It is so good to have you home again.’

’It is good to be home,’ Freddy murmured, returning the kiss. She released him and he sought his bed.

***

’Where’s Freddy?’ Rosamunda asked the next morning as she sat down to breakfast.

’He took himself off early, said he wanted to visit some of his old haunts,’ Odovacar said.

’Did he eat?’ Rosamunda asked.

’No, he said he wasn’t hungry; he was still sated from all the celebrating we did yesterday,’ Odo answered.

’Ah well, we’ll make sure he has a good nooning,’ Rosamunda said.

Freddy, however, did not come home until after teatime, saying he’d been invited to lunch with old Oakleaf and his wife. ‘What a table they spread!’ he said. ‘I could not believe the variety of good food they laid before me.’ He neglected to mention that he’d been unable to manage more than a bite or two, for in his mind he thought somehow that he had eaten a full meal, and more.

Finch arrived shortly afterwards. ‘Are we ready to remove the splints?’ he asked.

’I don’t know about you, but I’m ready,’ Freddy answered.

’Very well; let us go into the study, there’s good light there,’ Finch said. Odovacar led the way.

As he removed the bandages, Finch said casually, ‘Are you eating well?’

’I cannot complain,’ Freddy said complacently. ‘You’d think it was snowing food and raining drink, the way they carry on hereabouts.’ His smile faded as his hand came into sight. ‘My word,’ he said softly.

’Try to move your fingers,’ Finch said, and Freddy complied, managing a twitch. ‘Good,’ the healer said.

’Good?’ Freddy echoed. ‘The hand looks terrible!’

’It would,’ Finch agreed soberly. ‘The muscles have wasted from being splinted all this time, and there was much damage done in the first place, as you know. I didn’t know if the nerves had been affected. That little bit of movement just now is a very good sign.’

’But—‘ Freddy said.

Finch picked up the hand, examining each finger, feeling the hand over carefully. ‘The bones have knit straight and true,’ he said, ‘and I don’t feel any damage to the joints. I’ll give you exercises to do to restore as much function as can be. If you’re faithful you ought to get back most of what you had to start with.’ He looked at Freddy. ‘Mr Freddy!’ he said sharply. When he saw he had Freddy’s attention, he said, ‘It looks awful, I know, but it’s a lot better than no hand at all, or the twisted claw you had before we re-set the bones.’

’Yes, Finch, thank you, Finch,’ Freddy murmured. He took a deep breath and set his shoulders. ‘Of course it’s better,’ he said bravely. ‘And I’m sure the exercises will help immensely.’

’They will,’ Finch maintained. ‘If the look of it bothers you, wear a glove. That would help to keep the hand warm, as well, while the weather remains cool.’

’Thank you, Finch,’ Freddy said again.

’Well then,’ Odovacar said, breaking in smoothly. ‘What do I owe you for this visit? A silver penny, I think?’

’That’s the going rate,’ Finch said, ‘though I’d settle for a glass of brandy.’

’It just so happens I have some here,’ Odovacar said. ‘The Brandybucks traded cases of the Hall’s finest for waggonloads of food. They’re running short, you know; they had no ruffians’ stores to fall back on.’ He shook his head. ‘They’re too proud to accept any gifts of food, but at least they have brandy to trade.’

’How about you, Mr Freddy? Will you take a glass with us?’ Finch asked.

’As a matter of fact, I thought I’d nap a bit,’ Freddy answered. ‘I tramped quite a ways today, looking about the neighbourhood, and I’m a bit tired.’

’Very well, Freddy,’ Odovacar said. ‘I’ll call you for late supper.’

However, when it was time for late supper, Odo looked in to find his son soundly asleep, and looking so tired that he didn’t have the heart to waken him.

Chapter 42. Stuffed to the Gills

Freddy was up early again the next morning, but Frodo was waiting for him. ‘You gave me the slip yesterday, cousin,’ he said cheerily, ‘but you won’t find it so easy today! I might as well have stayed in Bywater!’

’You might as well have!’ Freddy laughed. ‘I looked for you when I got back from my trampings, but they said you were napping.’

’And when I got up for late supper, you were already abed,’ Frodo said. ‘We might be playing a game of tag...’

’Ah but you have caught me at last,’ Freddy said. They entered the room where breakfast was laid out on the sideboard, and both loaded their plates with good things.

’What is your plan for today?’ Frodo asked.

’I thought I’d ride to the hills of Scary, perhaps as far as the Brockenbores, take a look around,’ Freddy said. ‘We can pack a picnic if you think your ancient bones can stand an all-day ride, or if they cannot, I’ll see you at late supper.’

’Hah! You won’t get rid of me so easily this day!’ Frodo said, ‘...or I really will be tempted to go back to Bywater—and sulk!’

’We mustn’t have you sulking,’ Freddy said, pushing his barely-touched plate away. ‘I’ll go see that the picnic is packed and the ponies are saddled.’

’You do that,’ Frodo said, continuing to tuck into his own good breakfast as a servant cleared Freddy’s place.

It was a good visit for Frodo, very relaxing, filled with fine food, walks, rides, and laughter. He was up early each morning, gathering the early spring flowers so that his Aunt Rosamunda had a mugful at her breakfast place without fail. ‘You’ll spoil my mother dreadfully,’ Freddy said after a week of this. ‘She’ll not want to eat breakfast if the flowers are missing.’

’You’ll have to go out and gather them when I am gone,’ Frodo said. ‘I cannot be coming from Bag End every morning to make sure your mother has her flowers!’

That afternoon at teatime, Odovacar pulled a letter from his pocket and fixed his daughter with a firm look. ‘Great Aunt Camellia Boffins writes to ask Estella to visit,’ he said to Rosamunda and the table at large.

’Is she still in Tookland?’ Rosamunda asked, dabbing at her mouth with a serviette.

’No,’ Odo said, a wondering smile on his face. ‘The good hobbits of Waymeet have completely restored Boffindale Hole to its former glory. The Boffins are homeless no longer, and much of their fortune has been recovered from ruffians’ storeholes. Folco still goes out to work, however; he says he’s found great satisfaction in it.’

’Just so long as he’s not taking bread out of the mouth of another hobbit who needs the work,’ Freddy said.

’No, there’s quite a bit of work to be done,’ Odo said, glancing again at the letter.

’Sounds fascinating. Perhaps I ought to try it,’ Freddy said as he spread melting butter on a still-warm crumpet, added marmalade and set the whole aside.

’Did the Boffins hire out the restoration?’ Frodo wanted to know.

’No, that’s the wonder of it,’ Odo said. ‘Master and Mistress Boffins were preparing to remove to the Great Smials where the Thain had prepared a place for them, when the hobbits of Waymeet came to ask them to stay, said they’d been working all along on the Hole and it was nearly ready for habitation. They wouldn’t even accept pay for their time and effort.’

’Bless them!’ Rosamunda said, dabbing at her eyes.

’I’d say the Shire is recovering nicely,’ Freddy said to Frodo. He pushed his plate away. ‘I couldn’t eat another bite,’ he added. ‘Shall we retire to the library for a game of Kings?’

’But wait!’ Estella said. ‘You said I’m to visit the Boffins family? When?’

’I think you could leave the day after tomorrow,’ Odovacar said. ‘That would have you arriving the day before Great Aunt Camellia’s birthday.’

’And how long must I stay?’ Estella asked.

’Do not make it sound such a burden, sister,’ Freddy said. ‘You’ve always enjoyed Great Aunt Camellia’s company.’ He laughed when Estella rolled her eyes. ‘If you’re worried about me, then don’t! I am well. Look!’ He wiggled the gloved fingers of his right hand. ‘I can move a little more each day.’

’If you stay a month, you can stop off at Bag End on your way back,’ Frodo said. ‘I ought to be living there by then.’

’May I?’ Estella asked her parents.

’I don’t see why not,’ Rosamunda said indulgently.

’We’ll even have Samwise and his sister come to tea,’ Frodo said with a smile.

’O thank you, Frodo!’ Estella said, rising to rush to him and throw her arms about him in a hug. Remembering just in time, she stopped herself and put out a genteel hand, which he bowed over.

’You’re most welcome,’ he said, laughing.

So it was that when Merry and Pippin rode up to Budge Hall in the last days of February, Estella was not there with the rest of the family to greet them. It was probably just as well, her mother thought, considering the girl’s feelings for her cousin Merry, properly concealed but evident to a mother’s loving eyes. It was really too bad they were bound by that previous agreement, she thought, but there was nothing to be done now that the bed was made but to lie in it.

’Don’t you look fine!’ Rosamunda said as they slid down from their ponies, resplendent in mail, with their shields and helms making them look as if they’d ridden out from a picture in an old book. ‘How long can you stay?’

’Only a day or two,’ Merry answered. ‘We’re on our way from the Great Smials to Brandy Hall, but we thought we’d take the long way round to check on our Bolger and Baggins cousins.’

’Prepare to be wined and dined,’ Freddy laughed. ‘Your ponies might not be able to carry you away.’

’Well then we shall stay forever,’ Pippin said in response, linking arms with Freddy to walk into the house.

Merry lingered behind with Frodo. ‘You’re looking well enough,’ he said, ‘but I’d expected Freddy to look better than he does.’

’He’s much better!’ Frodo said in surprise. ‘You saw how he was before!’

’I do not see that much difference from that time to this,’ Merry said.

’He’s filled out quite a bit,’ Frodo said. ‘Granted, it will be some time before he’s “Fatty” again, but—‘

’Are we talking about the same hobbit?’ Merry said quizzically.

Frodo slapped him on the back. ‘Come along, cousin, I do believe you are faint from hunger,’ he laughed. ‘Freddy’s fine! Do try to stop worrying, at least for today...’

’I’ll try,’ Merry said dubiously, but he privately resolved to watch Freddy closely as long as he was in Budge Hall.

’You’re too late for tea, but we’ll scrape up some crumbs for you,’ Rosamunda was saying as they sat down in the parlour. As it turned out, everyone nibbled along, keeping the Travellers company, everyone, that is to say, but Freddy, who declared he’d stuffed himself at tea and would burst with another bite.

’The way you load your plate, I’m not surprised,’ Frodo laughed.

’Well I must work at it if there’s to be a “Fatty Bolger” again,’ Freddy said complacently.

’You might start working at it now,’ Merry said, but Freddy only sipped at his tea, saying he’d float away with any more.

’Burst with another bite, and float away with more...’ Pippin said privately to Merry as they adjourned to the library for a game of Kings. ‘What is going on here, Merry? Freddy looks as if they’ve stuck him back in the Lockholes again. Don’t they see?’

’Perhaps he’s been ill, and they’re trying to chirk him up,’ Merry said slowly.

’I don’t know, Merry,’ Pippin said, shaking his head, but Merry put a hand on his arm.

’Surely Frodo...’ Merry said, and shook his head in irritation. Frodo didn’t seem at all worried, had even chided Merry for worrying. ‘We’ll keep watch, Pippin. Perhaps we ought to extend our visit a day or three.’

It did not take a day or three for the Travellers to see that something was very wrong at Budge Hall. Freddy missed the eventide meal, busy about something or other. At late supper he loaded his plate, laughing at Frodo’s jests, but he merely pushed the food around and ate very little if anything.

When the servants began to clear away, Freddy sat back with a sigh of satisfaction. ‘Another fine meal,’ he said.

’Was it?’ Merry asked acidly.

Pippin added, ‘You hardly ate a bite!’

’What?’ Freddy laughed. ‘Why, the roast was succulent and juicy, the potatoes done to a turn, the apple compote...’

’How would you know?’ Pippin asked curiously.

’I had two or three helpings, at least!’ Freddy said. ‘Or was it four?’

’It might have been five, the way you carried on,’ Frodo said.

Pippin looked from one cousin to the other in astonishment. ‘It’s a spell,’ he breathed. ‘Don’t you see it, Merry? They’re ensorcelled!’

’What a joke!’ Freddy shouted.

Odovacar looked at the young hobbits curiously, but with a vague feeling of alarm. ‘Whatever do you mean, young Pip?’

’It’s just like the stories you used to read to me, Frodo, from Bilbo’s old books!’ Pippin said more emphatically. ‘Freddy eats nothing but all think they see him stuffing himself.’

’It was a good joke, Pip, but I think its time is over,’ Frodo said.

’No,’ Merry said. ‘It’s not a joke, Frodo. I saw it as well.’

’Saw what?’ Rosamunda asked, her own unease growing.

’Freddy never ate a bite,’ Merry said. ‘They took his plate away still full of food.’

’Ah, well,’ Freddy said, ‘You must excuse me. In my greed, I took more than I ought. I really couldn’t finish that fifth portion. I should have stopped with thirds or fourths.’

’You didn’t even begin—‘ Pippin broke in, but Merry put a hand on his arm.

’Freddy, it is not a joke of Pip’s, I’m telling you; you haven’t eaten a single bite. We watched closely, Pip and I. How many meals have you missed since coming home?’ Merry went on.

’Why, none at all!’ Freddy said, then thought back. ‘A few, perhaps, when I was too full from the previous meal to eat anything.’

’As you are full now,’ Merry said soberly.

’Exactly!’ Freddy said.

’Let me see you eat,’ Merry said now, buttering a roll and extending it to Freddy. ‘It’s just a few bites, and I know this is your favourite; it’s my mother’s dinner-roll recipe. I recognised it when I tasted it.’

Freddy took the roll slowly, a half-comical, half-puzzled look in his eye. He lifted the roll to his mouth and then set it down again. ‘This is ridiculous, Merry!’ he said. ‘I’ve known you to go along with Pippin’s jokes before, but...’

’Eat,’ Merry said implacably, and there was something in his eye, something Freddy had not seen before his cousins had departed from Crickhollow to begin the Quest. Freddy took a bite, another, and a third, then put the roll down.

’Are you satisfied?’ he said. ‘I really dare not eat any more than that; I am absolutely stuffed! You’ll be able to hang me on a wall after another bite, like that trophy fish in the Thain’s study!’

Pippin started to protest, but Merry kicked him under the table. Under cover of the others’ laughter, he muttered, ‘We’ll take this up with Frodo later.’

’Before Freddy starves himself to death, I hope,’ Pippin muttered back.

Frodo stayed up with the Travellers long after the Bolgers had sought their beds. He was glad to hear that Pippin’s nightmares had decreased in number and intensity and Merry’s sleepwalking had ceased. ‘My father wanted me to stay in Tookland when Merry departed this time,’ Pippin said, ‘but my mother made him let us go together. She said Merry’s a good influence, don’t you find that funny?’ He laughed as Merry punched him on the arm.

’What I didn’t find funny was that joke of yours at supper this evening,’ Frodo said.

’It was no joke, Frodo,’ Merry said. ‘As far as I can tell, Freddy’s not eating. You said he’d gained in health, strength, and substance, but he looks as thin to me now as he did before Yule.’

’You’re serious, Merry,’ Frodo said slowly.

’As am I!’ Pippin put in. ‘You don’t think I’d joke about something so serious!’

’You are quite the one for a joke,’ Frodo said, but Merry interrupted.

’We are serious indeed, Frodo. Why can you not see it? And his parents, the ones you’d think would be keeping a close eye on him, they are as blind as you, apparently. What about Estella?’

’She was called away,’ Frodo said, ‘but she saw nothing wrong or she wouldn’t have gone.’ His head was reeling. How was it that Merry and Pippin saw something no one else saw?

’You watch Freddy closely at breakfast, Frodo, and if you see him put even a forkful in his mouth, pinch me on the arm and I’ll tell you what I saw,’ Merry said.

Pippin yawned widely, and the effect was catching. The older cousins almost instantly had to stifle yawns of their own.

’I’ll do that, Merry,’ Frodo said. ‘But for now, I suppose we had better seek our own beds.’ They hugged each other, and Merry and Pippin went off to their shared room. ‘No sleep-walking, now,’ Frodo called softly after them.

’And no nightmares,’ Pippin called back. ‘If you find yourself bothered, just tumble in with the rest of the litter of pups.’

’We could go out and sleep on the hard ground outside, if that would make it more appealing,’ Merry said over his shoulder.

Frodo chuckled and shook his head. ‘Only if there’s a feather-bed and a roof over my head in the bargain,’ he said. With a laugh the cousins parted.

Passing by Freddy’s room, Frodo thought he’d look in. He tapped softly on the door but there was no answer. Cracking the door open, he saw by the light of the watch-lamp that the bedcovers were tossed and tumbled, but the bed was empty.

’Freddy?’ he called. There was no answer. He stepped in, wondering. ‘Freddy?’ he said a little louder, to be answered by a moan. Moving quickly to the far side of the bed, he found his cousin curled on the floor between the desk and the bed. He’d been sick in the wastebasket, Frodo saw, though there was not much to show for it.

’Freddy!’ he said urgently, leaning down to touch his cousin’s arm. Freddy groaned and began once more to retch.

Frodo grabbed the bell-pull and yanked hard. Within moments, a sleepy servant poked his head in the door. ‘Did you require something?’ he said.

’Fetch a healer!’ Frodo snapped. ‘Finch Smallfoot lives in the town, does he not?’

’He does,’ the servant said, now wide-awake and alarmed.

’Fetch him, and be quick about it!’ Frodo said. ‘Knock on the Master’s door on your way.’ The servant disappeared, and Frodo spoke again to his cousin. ‘Freddy? Do you hear me?’

Freddy stopped retching and Frodo breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Must’ve et something that disagreed with me,’ Freddy muttered. ‘What’re you doing here, cousin?’ he said, looking up at Frodo. ‘I—‘ he broke off as his eyes rolled back in his head and he began to convulse.

‘Freddy!’ Frodo said frantically. He heard Odovacar exclaim from behind him.

‘What is it? What’s happened?’ the Bolger said, crossing the room swiftly to bend over his son.

‘He says that something he ate disagreed with him,’ Frodo said, ‘but he’s not brought much up. Whatever it is might still be with him.’

‘The mushrooms!’ Odo said. ‘D’you suppose one of them might have been bad?’

‘Stewed as they were, wouldn’t all of us be affected?’ Frodo said.

‘He didn’t eat any of the mushrooms,’ Merry said from the doorway. ‘He ate only a bit of bread and butter.’

‘That’s what’s in the wastebasket,’ Frodo said slowly. It began to dawn on him that Merry and Pippin had been serious after all.

‘It’s the wizard’s spell,’ Pippin, standing at Merry’s side, said. ‘Somehow it’s affected you all, not just Freddy.’

‘Why are you not affected?’ Frodo asked, watching Freddy convulsing, helpless to do anything.

‘We saw Gandalf throw Saruman down, unmask his lies,’ Merry said, crossing to crouch beside Frodo. ‘Perhaps his lies have no power over us as a result.’ Freddy lay still again, and Odo gathered his son in his arms, softly calling his name. ‘Look!’ Merry said. ‘Do you not see it? He is dangerously thin, Frodo, and looks as if he hasn’t eaten in days!’

Frodo blinked. As through a mist he caught a glimpse of Freddy, thin, starved-looking, but then the healthy Freddy overlaid the vision again. Healthy? What was he thinking?

‘If it is the wizard’s spell then we’ve got to get him out of here,’ Odovacar said urgently. ‘Help me to lift him.’

‘Where will you take him?’ Merry asked.

‘Back to the Cottons,’ Odo said. ‘He was able to eat there, and none of us was enspelled.’

‘What, tonight?’ Frodo asked.

‘Do you have a better idea, cousin?’ Odo snapped.

‘No,’ Frodo admitted. ‘No, I do not.’

‘Very well. We’ll leave for Bywater now, drive through the night, stop partway for a rest and a bite to eat, and then continue on. I’ll send a quick post message ahead of us so that they’ll know to expect us.’

‘We’re expected at Brandy Hall on the morrow,’ Merry said, ‘but we can change our plans…’

‘No need,’ Odo said. ‘If the Cottons are affected by the spell, we’ll send a message. I’m hoping, however, that we’ll see a difference as soon as we cross Budge Ford.’

Odo called to the servants to ready the coach-and-four. Meanwhile they lifted Freddy onto the bed and dressed him warmly.

Healer Finch arrived and was quickly filled in. He stared in wonder at Freddy, who had apparently fallen asleep fully dressed on the bed. ‘He looks fine to me,’ he said slowly. ‘I do not understand.’ He shook his head and looked again, picked up Freddy’s wrist, held it for a long time. ‘His heartbeat is very weak,’ he said in shock. ‘What is going on here?’

Rosamunda came in, a shawl thrown over her night-dress. ‘What is it? What’s happening?’ she said.

‘The lads were right: it is some sort of a spell, not a joke at all,’ Odo said grimly. ‘We’re taking Freddy back to Bywater. I only hope it’s not too late.’

Chapter 43. Return to Bywater

The spell did not fade immediately upon crossing the Ford, but as the coach put miles between them and Budge Hall, the flesh seemed to melt from Freddy’s face and frame, until the Bolgers saw their son as his cousins had seen him.

’O Freddy!’ Rosamunda sobbed softly when all became clear. ‘O my beloved son...’

’There’s an inn up ahead,’ Odo said to Finch, who’d jumped into the coach without a moment’s hesitation, only sticking his head out of the window to send a message to his family by way of one of the weeping servants. ‘Can we get something into him there?’

’Broth, perhaps,’ Finch answered. ‘Thin gruel? If he hasn’t eaten for days, he won’t be able to manage anything substantial. That bread-and-butter nearly finished him.’

They stopped at the inn, and though it was the middle night, a quick explanation brought results. The innkeeper himself brought a mug of rich broth from the soup pot that simmered at all times in the kitchen, after his wife carefully strained out any solid bits.

’Drink up, Mr Freddy,’ Finch urged, but the sick hobbit turned his head away.

’Come, cousin, a little sip only,’ Frodo said, taking the cup from the healer. ‘You owe me this much. I’ve not been able to do any writing at all the past fortnight, and it’s all your fault!’

’My fault!’ Freddy breathed. ‘How?’ He took one sip, and then another, and then shook his head.

’That’s good,’ Finch said. ‘It’s a start.’

The innkeeper’s wife brought mugs of tea for all the travellers, even Merry and Pippin who’d vowed to go with them as far as Frogmorton. After the mugs were drained, they were able to get a few more sips of broth into Freddy, and then the coach started again.

They reached Frogmorton as the day was dawning, pulling into the yard of the best inn in the town. Finch went in to see that a bed was prepared for Freddy, softly padded and warmed, and then they carried him in.

’I can walk!’ Freddy protested, but Finch interrupted him.

’Save your strength, lad,’ he said. ‘We’ve many strong hands here, it’s no bother at all.’

Over breakfast with Merry and Pippin, Frodo tried to make sense of it all. ‘Why were we affected by the spell?’ he asked. ‘Why did we all see what Freddy saw?’

Merry thought out loud. ‘King Theoden was under Saruman’s spell as well, and his people saw him as Saruman made him see himself,’ he said slowly. ‘He was a powerful wizard, the greatest of the Wise until he wandered from the way and was thrown down.’

’But you did not fall under the spell,’ Frodo said.

’We saw Saruman thrown down, remember,’ Merry said. ‘We saw Theoden shake off the influence of his voice. I remember being under the spell, thinking Gandalf would go up and be persuaded, only to have the illusion shatter when Gandalf laughed. Perhaps it made a difference.’ He cocked an eye at Frodo. ‘You weren’t affected, were you? You’ve been eating properly, I hope.’

’Do I look substantial?’ Frodo asked. ‘As far as I can tell, I’ve been eating, but then, Freddy thought he was as well.’

’You look well,’ Pippin said critically. ‘Keep on the way you’re going and there’ll be a “Fatty” Baggins, at the least, if not Bolger.’

They rested a few hours and then parted ways, the Travellers going to Buckland and the Bolgers’ coach on its way to Bywater.

Finch kept encouraging Freddy to take sips of broth, replenishing the supply at every inn they passed, and Freddy declared himself stronger by the time the coach pulled into the yard before the Cottons’ steps. They would not let him walk, however, and carried him up the steps and to his former room, where the bed was already warming.

Mrs Cotton brought more broth when they had him settled. Her face was smiling and cheerful as usual, for she concealed her shock at the ruin a fortnight had wrought. ‘Here we are,’ she said. ‘Nice and rich and warming.’

’More broth!’ Freddy said. ‘I’ll float away!’ He sipped, raising an eyebrow. ‘It is the best broth I’ve had since we left Budge Hall, I must say.’

’Go on with you, Mr Freddy,’ Mrs Cotton said. She went back to the kitchen to splash her face with cold water and wipe away the tears that threatened.

’There was a letter come for you yesterday, Mr Frodo,’ Farmer Cotton said, pulling a paper from under a mug of spring flowers on the little mantel. ‘I was just a-going to send it on when we got word you were coming.’

’Thank you, Farmer Cotton,’ Frodo said, accepting the letter. Lobelia’s handwriting, he saw, and wondered. Perhaps she’d heard Bag End was nearing completion and was having second thoughts.

’What is it?’ Freddy asked.

’Probably a marriage proposal,’ Frodo said nonchalantly. ‘After all, I’m mayor now. Quite a few lasses must be setting their caps for me.’

’Deputy mayor,’ Freddy reminded him.

’O yes, that’s right,’ Frodo said, opening the letter and reading.

’Isn’t that Lobelia’s writing?’ Freddy asked.

’Mmm-hmmm,’ Frodo said, still immersed.

’She’s found you a wife?’ Freddy said.

’Not quite yet, it seems,’ Frodo said. ‘Sad, that. I had my heart set on marrying into that family.’

’What does she want?’ Freddy pressed.

’Do be quiet and let me read, cousin,’ Frodo said. ‘Sip your broth, or somewhat.’ He finished the letter and put it down with a sigh.

’I have sipped my broth,’ Freddy announced. ‘Now will you tell me what is going on? I am perishing from curiosity.’

’We mustn’t have you perishing,’ Frodo said. ‘She wants me to come and visit her.’

’Visit her! An invitation? That’s a new one,’ Freddy said. ‘Usually she is the one to inflict herself on unsuspecting relatives.’

’An invitation,’ Frodo confirmed. ‘A most pressing invitation, at that.’ He eyed Freddy. ‘How can I go?’

’What, you’re worried about me?’ Freddy said. ‘Go! I’ll have my mother and my father and all the Cottons and Finch in the bargain, all pouring broth down my throat until I float away. But if you do not go and come back and report on why Lobelia sent for you, I shall perish despite all their efforts.’

’It seems I must go, then,’ Frodo said resignedly. He folded the letter and put it in his pocket, getting up from the chair.

’What, like that?’ Freddy said. ‘We just got here!’

Frodo fixed him with a stern eye. ‘Drink your broth!’ he said. ‘You had better be fatter by the time I get back or I’ll stuff you with food myself.’

’Yes sir, Mr Mayor, sir!’ Freddy said, saluting sharply.

’Where did you learn that?’ Frodo asked in astonishment.

’Pippin taught me; he said the guardsmen in Gondor do it all the time when he walks by. They seem to think he’s some sort of prince or something.’

’Indeed!’ Frodo laughed. ‘They thought more of the “Prince of the Halflings” than they did of the Ring-bearer!’

’You do all the dirty work and he gets all the credit,’ Freddy grumbled.

’When has it ever been different?’ Frodo said, still chuckling, and on that happy note, he departed.

Chapter 44. Tea with Mistress Lobelia

The Southfarthing was in full bloom on this First day of March. Frodo got down from brown Strider with a pat for the pony’s neck. ‘Here we are, lad,’ he said. ‘We’ll be stopping over a day or three, and you ought to have a good rest.’

A hobbit, obviously a Bracegirdle from the pinched expression on his face, came out to take the pony. ‘Take good care of him,’ Frodo said. ‘He’s travelled far.’

’What, all the way from Hobbiton?’ the groom snorted.

’All the way from Gondor,’ Frodo corrected.

’Gondor! Never heard of it,’ the groom sniffed, and led the pony away, muttering under his breath.

A pleasant-featured hobbit lass with dark eyes and dark curls spilling out of her intricately-woven net came out of the doorway with a hospitable smile. ‘Cousin Frodo!’ she said. ‘Well come, indeed! You are just in time for tea.’

’I believe you have the advantage of me, cousin,’ Frodo said.

Laughing, she said, ‘Of course I do! I’ve heard nothing from Auntie Lobelia but “Frodo’s coming! I want every speck of dust wiped away. Frodo’s coming! Take the rugs out and beat them well!” I tell you,’ she said, shaking her head, ‘it got so that we dreaded the very mention of your name!’

’This is not an auspicious beginning,’ Frodo said with a wry smile.

’Not at all,’ she said, ‘and don’t you dare get back on your pony and leave, after all the trouble you’ve put us through!’ She smiled, putting out a shapely hand. ‘I’m your cousin Alyssum, married to Horatius Bracegirdle, Auntie Lobelia’s nephew by some tortuous family connexion that I have yet to fathom. I’m a north-Took, actually, only recently arrived in Southfarthing.’

’And how do you get along with the Bracegirdles?’ Frodo asked, taking the hand and bowing over it.

She laughed, a delightful sound. ‘I find them quite amusing, to tell you the truth,’ she said.

’They must find you quite—quite—‘ Frodo said, at a loss for words.

’Quite!’ she said decidedly, tucking Frodo’s hand into her arm and turning towards the house. ‘Tea is about to be served, and Auntie Lobelia’s a stickler for punctuality, you know!’

’Indeed,’ Frodo said. He wondered if all the north-Tooks were so lively and charming. Perhaps he ought to make a journey in that direction one of these days.

He was shown into an ancient parlour with not a speck of dust in sight, even with the curtains pulled back as far as possible to let in the streaming sunshine. Lobelia Sackville-Baggins sat in a comfortable chair near a cheerful fire, her feet propped up on a padded stool, a knitted rug over her knees.

’There you are at last,’ she snapped. ‘I thought you’d never get here. Sit down, Frodo!’

’It’s not quite teatime, Auntie,’ Alyssum said, bending to lay a kiss on the withered cheek. ‘I do believe the kettle is coming to the boil now, as a matter of fact.’

’I don’t hear anything,’ Lobelia said bad-temperedly. ‘You’re imagining things!’

’I’ll just go to the kitchen to see,’ Alyssum said with a smile, and was gone before the old hobbit could find further fault.

’Well?’ Lobelia said, turning her attention to Frodo. ‘I thought I told you to sit!’

Frodo sat. ‘How are you today, Lobelia?’ he asked.

’Well I’m not dead yet, that’s something,’ she muttered. Frodo had an absurd desire to laugh, but he maintained a sober expression and murmured something noncommittal.

’Hah!’ Lobelia exploded. ‘Don’t humour me, young hobbit! I know exactly what you’re thinking!’

’What am I thinking?’ Frodo asked.

’You’re thinking that now that Bag End’s about finished and ready to move in to, I’m going to take back my offer!’

’The thought had crossed my mind,’ Frodo admitted.

Lobelia eyed him narrowly. ‘At least you’re honest,’ she said. ‘What do you want for it?’

’It’s yours,’ Frodo said in surprise. ‘You bought and paid for it!’

’What about all the repair work, eh? Surely you sank a great many of Bilbo’s gold coins into the effort?’

’Nearly all I had left,’ Frodo admitted. ‘What need have I for gold? I live simply, spend time with friends, write, or walk, or just sit and watch the sky. Have you ever noticed how the sky changes from moment to moment?’

’Foolishness!’ she snapped. ‘You’ve gone round the bend just like that old Bilbo did before you!’

’Perhaps,’ Frodo said. ‘I’ve gone round the bend and back again, you might say. I’ve seen all I want to see; I’ve held all of Middle-earth in my hands, and had it slip away.’ He held out his right hand, and Lobelia gazed in silence at the missing finger until he placed the hand once more on his knee.

’What was the treasure Bilbo left you?’ the old hobbit hissed, and Frodo was not surprised at her guess. Surely she’d overheard Saruman’s bitter mutterings on black nights in Bag End.

’A Ring,’ Frodo said softly. ‘A little Ring, the least of Rings, with which the Dark Lord would have covered all of Middle-earth with Darkness terrible and unending.’ He looked out the window at the bright day. ‘No more spring, no sunshine, no bright blooms...’

’Sharkey wanted it, but you wouldn’t give it to him,’ Lobelia said.

Frodo laughed. ‘Not I,’ he said. ‘Do you think I could have stood against him? He wanted it, but he couldn’t find me. I was playing “I hide and you seek me”, and no one saw me creep under their noses into the Dark Land with my faithful Samwise.’

’Into the Dark Land? Whyever would you do such a foolish thing?’ Lobelia whispered.

’We threw it in the Fire, Gollum and I,’ Frodo said in a sing-song voice, as if he were repeating the last line of a nursery rhyme. ‘It is gone, now, all gone, and all is dark and empty.’ He sat staring at the hand on his knee a moment longer, until the fire popped and wakened him as if from a dream.

’What were we talking about?’ he asked in a normal tone. ‘I’m sorry, I seem to have lost my thought...’

Lobelia’s eyes were bright for some reason as she stared at him, and then she shook her head, wiped quickly at her cheeks, and said, ‘It doesn’t matter.’

’No,’ Frodo laughed. ‘I suppose if it is important it will come to me again.’

’Tell me what’s what,’ Lobelia ordered. ‘I heard your Samwise has been all over the Shire planting trees and sprinkling them with fairy dust, and that they finished that new row to take the place of Bagshot Row, and the folk have moved in already. What about the trees along the Avenue, did he re-plant those?’

They were deep in the doings of Hobbiton and Bywater when Alyssum returned with the tea tray. ‘Here you are!’ she carolled. ‘Tea and all the trimmings!’

’Thank you, my dear,’ Lobelia said, politely for her. ‘Leave the tray. I’ll ring if we want anything.’ Her hand touched an ornate bell on the table beside her. ‘Frodo, will you pour out?’ It was more demand than request, but Frodo jumped up from his chair to do the honours as Alyssum smiled and took herself off.

Frodo fixed a plate for Lobelia and poured out her tea to her satisfaction, then helped himself and settled back in his chair.

’How is that young rebel?’ Lobelia asked, picking up a sandwich, putting it to her mouth, and putting it down again untasted. The gesture reminded Frodo of something he couldn’t quite remember.

’Rebel?’ he asked.

’Young Fredegar Bolger,’ she snapped. ‘Pay attention when I’m talking to you!’ Frodo had been paying attention, but that was beside the point. ‘I heard his folks took him back to Budge Hall.’

Frodo noticed that Lobelia was curiously tense, awaiting his answer.

’He is not well, I’m sorry to say,’ he answered slowly.

’Dying!’ she gasped, a hand over her heart.

’Not quite, but it was a near thing,’ Frodo said. He found himself telling Lobelia about the apparent spell that Freddy and everyone around him had been under.

’Not eating, but thinking he’d eaten,’ Lobelia said slowly. She looked down at the sandwich in her hand and suddenly took an enormous and not very ladylike bite, chewing and swallowing before she spoke again. ‘I know I find myself robbed of appetite. Much of the time I have to remind myself to eat. Humph.’ She looked at the rest of the sandwich in her hand, then back to Frodo. ‘I don’t want Bag End,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m afraid the same thing would happen to me.’

’What?’ Frodo said, leaning forward, forgetting his own food.

’Eat!’ Lobelia said sharply. ‘You don’t have to starve yourself to listen to the tale!’ Frodo looked down, selected a sandwich, and ate. Lobelia nodded in satisfaction.

’Freddy was starving himself,’ Frodo said. ‘Is that what you meant?’

Lobelia nodded. ‘Slow starvation,’ she said. ‘Just like ...He said,’ she added. ‘...He said, “Death by slow starvation is exquisite torture. Most suited to hobbits, don’t you believe?” With that lad lying in my lap, dying, still the wizard felt the need to curse him with a terrible curse. The hobbits in that place told me how ...He’d come around, promising that they’d go home to die an agonising death. Curse him, wherever he’s ended up, that Sharkey!’ In her agitation, she knocked the bell over, and soon Alyssum popped her head in the door.

’Did you need anything?’ she asked cheerily.

’Just warm up the teapot, if you don’t mind, my dear,’ Lobelia said, covering her earlier distress, though pink spots still burned in her cheeks.

’Very well, Auntie,’ Alyssum said, taking the pot and leaving again with a wink for Frodo.

’Death by slow starvation,’ Frodo said slowly. Freddy’s troubles were becoming clear to him. Unconsciously he sought the comfort of the white jewel that hung at his neck, even as he heard Lobelia mutter about “pure evil”.

’What’s that?’ Lobelia asked sharply. ‘I thought you said Bilbo’s treasure was all gone!’

’This was a gift,’ Frodo said.

’Who’d give such a gift?’ Lobelia said, peering more closely. ‘Looks elvish, or somewhat.’

’It is,’ Frodo said. There was a pause, broken only by the crackle of the little fire and birdsong outside.

’May I see it?’ Lobelia said, uncharacteristically polite, her voice softer than usual. Frodo found himself, to his surprise, lifting the chain from his neck and handing the white jewel to the elderly hobbit. She cupped it in her hands, staring into its depths.

’Peaceful,’ she said. ‘It’s very... quite... refreshing.’ She took a deep breath, and then another. ‘It drives the evil from one’s memory most effectively.’ She looked up then. ‘How much do you want for it?’

Frodo was taken aback. ‘I—I couldn’t—‘ he stumbled.

Lobelia smiled, a tight little smile. ‘I’ll give you a bad bargain price for it, between friends,’ she said, and he realised it was her curious version of a joke. ‘Here,’ she said, holding it out to him. ‘Take it, before I’m tempted to put it away with Bilbo’s silver spoons.’

Frodo slowly took the jewel, hanging it around his neck again. Lobelia seemed quite cheerful now. ‘I’m famished!’ she announced. ‘Serve me a pile of those sandwiches, if you please!’

They continued to eat and talk, the discussion ranging from serious matters to comical ones. Amongst the serious matters was the rebuilding of the Shire, especially creating new holes for hobbits left homeless by the ruffians.

’I wish I could do more,’ Frodo said. ‘We’ve torn down all the ruffians’ works and are using the materials for the benefit of hobbits, and many have worked for no pay at all, which isn’t right. They ought to have something for their labours, for they have families to feed, but where the coins are to come from is beyond me.’

Alyssum brought back the teapot and poured them both fresh cups. Her eyes widened to see the denuded platter. ‘Would you care for more?’ she asked.

’Certainly,’ Lobelia said pleasantly. ‘That would be very kind of you, my dear.’

’I’ll have some fresh sandwiches made up right away!’ Alyssum said. ‘My, cousin Frodo, you ought to come around more often! I haven’t seen Auntie Lobelia with such a fine appetite in quite awhile!’

’Never, you mean!’ Lobelia said sharply. ‘I don’t usually make a hog of myself, but Frodo and I are celebrating!’

’What are you celebrating, Auntie?’ Alyssum said. Frodo wondered the same thing.

’Never you mind! Just fetch those sandwiches!’ Lobelia said. She lifted her teacup towards Frodo. ‘To—to—‘ she said, grasping for a toast, ‘To whatever!’ she ended triumphantly.

Frodo held up his own teacup. ‘To whatever!’ he agreed. They all laughed, and Alyssum left, promising more sandwiches and a fruit plate besides.

Toward the end of the meal, Lobelia turned the topic back to Freddy once more. ‘You’re sure he’ll be well?’ she said.

’As sure as I can be,’ Frodo said. ‘The healer said in another few days it might have been too late for him, seeing how fragile his health was after the Lockholes, but we brought him out of Bridgefields in time. He’d been taking broth for a full day when I left, and they expect he’ll be eating more substantial fare by the time I return. I as much as threatened to stuff the food down his throat for him if he doesn’t take care of feeding himself.’

’That’s good,’ Lobelia said softly. ‘I’m glad... one less victory for Sharkey.’ She sighed. ‘He killed my precious Lotho, you know. Ordered him killed, anyhow. If only I hadn’t been in the Lockholes...’

’If you had been at Bag End you couldn’t have saved Lotho; Saruman would have ordered you killed as well,’ Frodo said gently. ‘If you hadn’t been in the Lockholes, there’d be many more grieving mothers this day. We rescued over a hundred hobbits, you know, and many told how you stopped the beatings and made the guards give the prisoners more food and water, enough to keep them going until we got them out.’

Lobelia nodded, tears spilling over onto her cheeks. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘But Lotho was all I had. My sweet little lad,’ she whispered. ‘O I know they called him Pimple, and he was an unpleasant fellow when he died, but he really was sweet when he was little. He was only reflecting my own greed, you know. I raised him up to it, always wanting what I couldn’t have... O Lotho!’ she sighed again, and was silent.

’Lobelia,’ Frodo said quietly, but the old hobbit wasn’t done.

’All my pride, and foolishness,’ she said, ‘I was so proud of him for making something of himself. Certainly the Men were unpleasant, but they bowed to him and did his bidding. He owned nearly half the Shire, he boasted, though it couldn’t be that much, really—but still, he looked to be owning more and more! I never saw past my own comfort, to the misery of the hobbits around us... until that day they hauled me off to the Lockholes. Me! The Boss’s mother! But he wasn’t the Boss, not really.’

’No, he wasn’t,’ Frodo said gently.

 ‘Hobbits sleeping on the floor like Otho’s hunting dogs!’ Lobelia snapped. She took a sharp breath, held it for a moment, let it out in a long sigh. ‘That’s what opened my eyes, you know. I saw that lad, young Fredegar, dying on the cold stones, not even a blanket for comfort, far from the arms of his loving mother, and I thought of my precious Lotho, and how I would feel were he the one dying there. Ah, my boy. At least he was stabbed in his sleep, warm in his bed, and didn’t know the pain of the Lockholes.’ She bowed her head.

’You eased that pain for a great many,’ Frodo said. ‘You brought them through, Lobelia. Hold to that.’

’I do,’ Lobelia said, head still bowed. ‘It’s all I have left, you know. My Otho is gone—ah, how he loved me. “My beauty!” he used to say. My Lotho, precious little lad, so bright, so much promise. All I have left,’ she said. ‘I’m tired, Frodo.’

’I understand,’ Frodo said quietly.

She raised her head then, looking into his eyes with a curious expression. ‘Yes,’ she said after a moment. ‘I’m sure that you do.’

Chapter 45. The Wizard's Curse

When Frodo returned to Bywater a week later, the Bolgers had returned to Budge Hall, reassured that their son would do better now that he was away from home. Frodo peeked into the bedroom to find Freddy sitting up in bed, being badgered to eat by an exasperated Estella.

’Just like old times!’ Frodo laughed, leaning in the doorway.

’Cousin Frodo!’ Estella snapped. ‘It’s about time you returned!’

’We were thinking of sending out a rescue party,’ Freddy drawled.

’Freddy is being impossible!’ Estella flared.

’It is what I do best,’ Freddy confessed, pushing away a bowl of cooling stew.

Frodo took up the tray, saying, ‘Come, midge.’ Estella followed him into the hallway. ‘You ask Mrs Cotton to heat this up again,’ he said, ‘and I’ll make sure Freddy gets it down. You take the day off,’ he added kindly. ‘Go have tea with the Gamgees or something of the sort.’

’I’m not allowed,’ Estella said. ‘Freddy doesn’t think it proper.’

’Freddy has problems of his own,’ Frodo said grimly. ‘And I am planning to advance to the top of the list.’ He raised his voice. ‘Mrs Cotton! Mrs Cotton!’

The farmer’s wife bustled into the kitchen from the dairy, where she’d been setting pans of milk to let the cream rise to the top. ‘Mr Baggins!’ she cried. ‘Welcome back! I didn’t hear you come in, you were so quiet about it. Does Samwise know you’ve returned?’

’Is Samwise here?’ Frodo said.

’He’s up at Bag End,’ Mrs Cotton said. ‘They’re getting very close, you know. He’s very pleased with how the work is turning out.’

’That’s fine,’ Frodo said. ‘I’ll go up to Bag End after I see this stew gets into Mr Freddy, if you could heat it up again, please.’

’That’s good to hear,’ Mrs Cotton said briskly, taking the stew and doing the honours. ‘We could use another body to badger and bully the lad. It’s unnatural! He doesn’t seem to want to eat, even though he’s not at home anymore.’

’Where’s Rose?’ Frodo asked. ‘Is she up at the Gamgees' taking tea?’

’As a matter of fact, she’s just bringing in the wash we pegged out this morning, such a beautiful day for March, can you believe this weather we’re having?’

’She hasn’t had her tea yet?’ Frodo said. ‘That’s good. D’you suppose Miss Estella could borrow an old dress and kerchief and have tea on the meadow with Rose, just be “Tillie” again for the afternoon? I think she needs a rest.’

’But Freddy—‘ Estella protested.

’You listen to your ancient and venerable cousin, midge,’ Frodo said sternly, and then, seeing how tightly wound his young cousin was, he added more kindly, ‘If Freddy chides you, just send him to me and I’ll tell him what’s what.’

’But you said—‘ Estella began again.

’If you’re “Tillie” on a picnic, no one would look at you twice, and Rose will not be snubbed by those who think she’s stepped out of her place,’ Frodo said firmly. ‘It’ll be all right, won’t it Mrs Cotton?’

’Course it will,’ Mrs Cotton said firmly. ‘Here you are,’ she said, ladling the warmed stew back into the bowl. ‘Now come with me, Miss Estella, and we’ll make it so your own brother wouldn’t know you.’

Healer Finch entered the kitchen. ‘Mr Freddy’s having seconds?’ he asked, seeing the bowl in Frodo’s hand.

’No, we re-warmed his firsts,’ Frodo said. The healer shook his head. ‘Why aren’t his parents here?’ Frodo asked.

Finch said grimly, ‘He made an effort to eat while they were here, and they were reassured that he was on the road to recovery, but since they left the day before yesterday—Mr Odovacar wanted to make sure the quarry goes back into operation, you know, hobbits have been out of work for so long, and all. Anyhow, since they left it’s been the old story.’

’Will you send for them?’ Frodo asked.

Finch shook his head. ‘I hate to have them just reaching Budge Hall and having to turn round again,’ he said. ‘They’re not getting any younger, you know.’ He took a deep breath, adding in a determined tone, ‘If we can just get the food down Mr Freddy there’s no need to alarm them again.’

’I’ll do my part,’ Frodo promised, hefting the bowl. ‘Might as well get started.’

’No time like the present,’ Finch agreed, and Frodo returned to the bedroom.

’Here we are,’ he said cheerily.

’Perhaps I could pretend to be sleeping and you could assault me later,’ Freddy said, eying the bowl.

’Perhaps you could pretend to be sleeping,’ Frodo agreed, ‘and if you open your mouth wide enough to pretend to snore I could just shovel the food in.’

’On second thought, perhaps I ought to pretend to be awake instead,’ Freddy said hastily.

’Eat,’ Frodo said, ‘or do you want me to feed it to you?’ He lifted the spoon. ‘Here’s the old owl,’ he said, ‘coming with a fat mouse into the hole in the old oak tree...’

’Give me that!’ Freddy said in irritation, snatching the spoon and shoving it into his own mouth. He chewed and swallowed and his eyebrows went up. ‘Hits the spot,’ he said in surprise.

’Of course it does,’ Frodo said. ‘Have another bite.’

’I’m not sure I could,’ Freddy said.

’O yes,’ Frodo said. ‘You don’t have to eat the whole bowlful, but you have to have as much as would fill a teacup. However, I’ve news for you.’

’What’s that?’ Freddy said wearily.

’If you eat the whole bowlful, they won’t make you eat again in an hour.’

’Won’t they?’ Freddy asked.

’No, you may go two entire hours before you must eat again. However, if you put this off, I’ll be bringing you more food before you finish this!’

Freddy shuddered and applied himself to the stew. Finally, he sighed and said, ‘Is that a teacupful, would you say?’

Frodo took pity on him. ‘Nearly,’ he said. ‘Would you like a cup of tea to wash it down?’

’Must I?’ Freddy said dolefully.

’No,’ Frodo answered. ‘Not for nearly an hour, at least.’

’Then take it out of my sight, please,’ Freddy pleaded. ‘I don’t want to look at it or smell it or even think about eating until I must.’

’I’ll be right back,’ Frodo promised, taking bowl and spoon and walking slowly to the kitchen, deep in thought. Looking out the kitchen window, he saw two girls in patched dresses and bright kerchiefs swinging a basket between them, walking into the meadow behind the barn.

’Well now, he ate a bit of it anyway,’ Mrs Cotton said, looking into the bowl. ‘Did he fight you for every mouthful?’

’No,’ Frodo said. ‘He worked at it with a will until he’d eaten as much as he could.’

’Wonders will never cease,’ Mrs Cotton said. ‘I think Finch was considering tying him hand and foot and forcing the food down him.’

’I’d like to see that,’ Frodo said with a smile.

’You might yet,’ Mrs Cotton said darkly.

’I hope it won’t come to that,’ Frodo said. ‘Forcing a hobbit to eat! The very idea!’

’Humph,’ Mrs Cotton said, turning to dump the rest of the bowlful into the slop bucket for the pigs prior to washing up.

’Thank you, Mrs Cotton. He did tell me to tell you that it “hit the spot”,’ Frodo said. She nodded, keeping her back turned, and he realised she was fighting tears. ‘Very well, I’ll take the next shift,’ he said. ‘You just bring the tray when it’s time and leave the rest to me.’

Mrs Cotton nodded, and Frodo heard a sniff as he turned away.

When he got back to the bedroom, Freddy said, ‘Well?’

’That’s a deep, dark place filled with water,’ Frodo answered, taking a seat.

’What about Lobelia? Did she lock you up? Why did you extend your visit? I thought you’d only stay a day!’

’Cousin, I’m shocked!’ Frodo said. ‘To think of such a thing! Why, I had a pleasant time, indeed.’ Freddy reached out suddenly and Frodo fended off his hand. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded.

’Checking for fever; you’re obviously delirious,’ Freddy said solemnly. ‘A pleasant time? With Lobelia Sackville-Baggins?’

Try as he might, Frodo could not convince him that Lobelia was changed, and for the better.

Finally Freddy changed the subject. ‘How much writing have you done?’ he asked. ‘Got any good words for me?’

’None at all,’ Frodo said.

‘None?’ Freddy asked, flabbergasted.

’You said yourself, there’s a lifetime to write the story,’ Frodo said. ‘Why should I beat myself down to get it all written in only a year or so? I’d have to work hours each day to do that. Five years—ten, even, will be plenty.’ Maybe even twenty, or thirty, he thought privately. After all, if he were to marry and raise a family, well, that would take time away from writing. It might take forty years to get the story written down in its entirety, if he had little hobbits underfoot. Some of the tale—not all, of course—would make good bedtime stories in the bargain.

Not all, he thought again, and found himself unconsciously fingering the jewel. He suddenly remembered its impact on Lobelia.

’Freddy,’ he said slowly.

’At your service!’ his cousin said brightly, though Frodo had awakened him as he was slipping into a doze.

’Freddy, you know why you cannot eat, don’t you?’ Frodo said, eyeing his cousin closely.

’Is it because I’ve been ill, and the food doesn’t appeal?’ Freddy said dryly. ‘Or are you going to go into that nonsense about the wizard’s spell?’

’It isn’t nonsense,’ Frodo said. ‘You of all people ought to know that. You thought you were eating, stuffing yourself with good food—‘

’Wasn’t I?’ Freddy said sharply. ‘I only have your word for it that I wasn’t!’

’Mine and everyone else’s,’ Frodo said, ‘and the evidence of your own body. You nearly died, Freddy, you nearly starved yourself to death.’

’I don’t believe it,’ Freddy said stubbornly. ‘I ate something that disagreed with me, that last night at Budge Hall, had a violent case of food-poisoning, I believe, and nearly died of it. No wonder I have trouble eating now! You know how it is after you’ve eaten some bad food... remember that picnic we had?’

’I remember,’ Frodo said.

’Our bodies forgot which was the insides and which was the outsides, and even after we got rid of all the food we were still trying to bring something up! I do believe I retched up my toes! And then we couldn’t eat, properly eat, for days afterwards,’ Freddy said.

’It wasn’t bad food this time,’ Frodo insisted. ‘Freddy, Lobelia sent you a message. She said you could fight, if you’d only remember...’

’Remember what?’ Freddy asked curiously.

’Remember the wizard’s curse, his words to you,’ Frodo said.

’I don’t know what you are talking about,’ Freddy said, but he shivered and pulled the coverlet higher.

’He said, “Death by slow starvation is exquisite torture. Most suited to hobbits.” Do you remember?’ Frodo said softly.

’No,’ Freddy whispered. ‘No, I don’t remember.’

’But I heard you use those words yourself, in the early days,’ Frodo insisted. ‘ “Most suited to hobbits”, don’t you remember?’

’Suited,’ Freddy echoed, dumbfounded. He raised haunted eyes to meet Frodo’s. ‘His Voice is inside me still? How do I fight this? I don’t even know I’m hearing it!’

Frodo took the jewel on its chain from his neck. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘This helps to drive the evil away, at least for a time. Perhaps it will help you to perceive the truth from the lie.’

Freddy took the jewel slowly, looking into its depths. ‘The lie,’ he breathed. He stiffened. ‘Evil,’ he said.

’Yes,’ Frodo answered, clasping his hands round Freddy’s. ‘Let it burn away the evil; see the truth, Freddy, seek it!’

The jewel brightened in their hold. ‘It shines like white fire!’ Freddy said in wonder. After long moments—neither Freddy nor Frodo could have told how long it was, afterwards—he relaxed and slowly pulled his hands away as the jewel dimmed to ordinariness again. ‘I feel... clean,’ he said. ‘Clean and... fresh, as if I’ve been made new.’

Frodo smiled, settling the chain once again about his neck. ‘How about a bite to eat?’ he asked, striving for a casual tone.

’O yes,’ Freddy said, his own smile growing. ‘I’m absolutely famished!’

’I’ll be right back,’ Frodo promised, and rose to go to the kitchen, to tell Mrs Cotton to dish up a fair portion of her fine cookery.

Chapter 46. While Samwise was Away

Freddy began to improve rapidly now that there was no barrier to his eating generous portions of nourishing food. Within two or three days he was already able to walk again, with assistance, and began the daily journey down the hall to the bath room, loudly anticipating the day when he’d be allowed to walk down the lane to Bywater and its attractions: the Green Dragon and the Ivy Bush. Those who watched him relaxed, though not completely. They’d seen improvement before, after all.

Frodo convinced Estella to go back to Great Aunt Camellia, for he’d seen lines of strain on the young face, and the look in her eyes was too old for one of her years. Great Aunt Camellia was a lively old hobbit, and though she was over a hundred years old, in her heart she remembered what it was to be a tween.

’I’ll watch over him, midge,’ Frodo said on the eleventh of March, escorting Estella to the door. The Boffins’ coach waited to take her to Waymeet.

’You can count on cousin Frodo,’ laughed Zinnia, Folco Boffin’s older, married sister, who had arrived with the coach to provide a proper escort. ‘He’s the responsible sort!’

’Indeed,’ Frodo said dryly. ‘You don’t know the half of it.’ Zinnia laughed again, and Estella smiled faintly. She had heard too much of the Story to speak lightly of Frodo and responsibility.

’You’ll take care of your ancient and creaking bones, I hope,’ she said softly.

’If I don’t, then faithful Samwise will!’ Frodo said cheerily. ‘Don’t you worry about Freddy and me. The Cottons are the finest hosts in the Shire.’

’Don’t you listen,’ Zinnia said to Estella. ‘The Boffins are out to prove him wrong!’ She looked at Frodo. ‘You tell Freddy we’ll take good care of his little sister, and that he’d better be on his toes by the time she comes back!’ Taking Estella’s hand, she ran lightly with her charge down the steps to the waiting coach, waited for Estella to step in, and stepped up herself, turning to wave. ‘Good bye!’ she called.

’Safe journey!’ Frodo called back. He joined the Cottons in singing the coach down the lane, then went to seek out Freddy.

’She’s off?’ Freddy asked. Frodo nodded. ‘Good, that’s one less worry,’ he said.

’Now you sound like Merry,’ Frodo commented.

’Of course I do not!’ Freddy said, insulted. ‘Merry never worries about worrying, he just does it!’ His face brightened as he saw a face peek in at the door. ‘Samwise!’ he called. ‘I thought you were off already!’

’Just hitching the pony; the waggon’s all loaded,’ Samwise said, entering the room. ‘I came to see if Mr Frodo wanted to come along this time.’

’Mmm, perhaps the next journey, Sam,’ Frodo said. ‘I have to keep an eye on this miscreant, you know, or he might take it into his head to pop out of bed without notice.’

’I’m half Took, after all,’ Freddy said complacently.

’You might have to sit on him, then,’ Sam said. ‘Are you up to the task?’

Frodo patted his belly. ‘I’ve been eating extra portions in anticipation,’ he said. ‘I ought to make quite a proper weight if put to the test.’

Young Tom’s voice was heard calling through the open window. ‘He’s all hitched and ready to go, Sam!’

’I’d better go,’ Samwise said. ‘I want to check on those plantings in the far Northfarthing; they ought to be growing at a fair pace, considering the way things are going in Bywater.’

’Safe journey, Sam and swift return,’ Frodo said.

’You take care of yourself, Mr Frodo,’ Sam said in answer. ‘Don’t try to get the whole story written before I get back; I’ll only be gone a fortnight.’

’We’ll see you on the twenty-fifth, Samwise my lad, and I promise to keep a watchful eye on your master,’ Freddy said cheerily.

’I’ll make it easier for him, by staying near to keep a watchful eye on him!’ Frodo said, poking Freddy on the arm with the stem of his pipe. ‘And by the time you get back, we’ll be ready to fetch my things from Crickhollow, for Bag End may well be completed in the next week or ten days’ time!’

’We’ll have a grand old hole-warming, shan’t we, Sam?’ Freddy said, rubbing his hands together. ‘I can hardly wait!’

Sam paused in the doorway to take a good look at his master. Frodo had filled out on Mrs Cotton’s good cooking since he had laid his writing aside for the nonce. There was a brightness to his eyes, a relaxation in his stance as he stood by his cousin’s bed, one hand slipped casually into a pocket, the other holding his pipe. ‘We shall indeed,’ Sam said in answer to Mr Freddy’s question. ‘It’ll be the finest hole-warming since my old gaffer moved into Number Three.’

’Well then, you’d better hurry back!’ Frodo laughed, ‘...and you cannot do that unless you depart.’

’Yes sir, Mr Frodo,’ Sam said, and with a last nod to Freddy he was gone. They heard the farewells of the Cottons, Sam’s call to the pony, the fading clip-clop of hoofs in the yard, and then Frodo sighed.

’What was that for?’ Freddy asked curiously.

’I hate goodbyes,’ Frodo said. He put his pipe in his mouth again for a long draw. In truth, he was glad to be out from under Sam’s watchful eye for a space, but he’d never say so in all the world. He knew Sam had got in the habit on the long, terrible journey, but surely, safe in the Shire, they could relax their vigilance at last?

The two cousins spent a restful afternoon playing at Kings, and after teatime Freddy took a nap without much insistence on anyone’s part. He got up from his bed to have supper at the Cottons’ kitchen table, another milestone on the path to recovery, and after supper he sat for a bit in the parlour with Frodo and Mr Cotton and the Cotton sons, smoking companionably and discussing the spring planting.

The next day was beautifully warm and sunny, and Freddy persuaded the Cotton lads to carry him down the steps to the yard. There, leaning on Frodo’s arm, he walked slowly into the meadow behind the barn, and the two cousins had a picnic luncheon, spending the afternoon dozing on a blanket in the sun. Mrs Cotton and Rosie brought their tea to them there, and at the cousins’ insistence joined them, for they’d brought enough food for a Shiremoot, or so Freddy maintained.

As the Sun sank lower in the western sky, Frodo persuaded Freddy to walk with him back to the house. When they reached the steps, Freddy insisted on climbing them himself with only Frodo’s arm to steady him. Flushed and exhausted, he paused at the top to savour his accomplishment. ‘Shall we go to the Green Dragon on the morrow, cousin?’ he asked when he’d got his breath back.

’Only if you allow us to take the waggon,’ Frodo answered. ‘I’m drained from all the exercise we’ve taken this day.’

’Very well, my venerable and ancient cousin,’ Freddy said. ‘I defer to your superiority of years.’

’You, defer? This is an historic occasion!’ Frodo said. ‘Let us celebrate by taking supper in bed.’

’An excellent suggestion,’ Freddy said, and Frodo glanced at him in alarm.

’What’s this?’ he said. ‘You haven’t gone and overdone, have you, and this after I promised the midge I’d watch over you!’

’O yes,’ Freddy said. ‘You’ll watch me all the way to my ruin, no doubt.’

’Come,’ Frodo said more seriously. ‘Put your arm over my shoulders and lean on me; we’ll soon have you tucked up.’ Mrs Cotton looked up sharply and came over to take Freddy’s other side, and between them, they got him onto his bed.

’I’ll see to his night-shirt, Mrs Cotton, whilst you dish up his dinner,’ Frodo said. ‘Whatever it is, it smells delectable.’

’Quite,’ Freddy agreed, and Mrs Cotton breathed a sigh of relief. The lad might have overdone, but he hadn’t gone off his feed, thankfully.

When Freddy was fed and tucked up, he fought his closing eyelids long enough to hold a hand out to Frodo. ‘Many thanks, cousin,’ he said sleepily. ‘I think I will get better.’

’Of course you will,’ Frodo said sternly, taking the hand and giving it a squeeze.

’I don’t know how I’d do it without your help,’ Freddy said. A yawn distorted whatever he meant to say next, and Frodo patted his shoulder.

’Go to sleep, cousin,’ he said softly. ‘I shall see you bright and early in the morning.’

***

The next morning Farmer Cotton poked his head in at Freddy’s door to say good morning. ‘You’ve not breakfasted yet?’ he asked.

’I was waiting for Frodo,’ Freddy said. ‘He seems to have overslept; at any rate, he has not brought my breakfast tray as he promised. Perhaps he meant for me to fetch it myself.’

‘Nay, lad,’ Farmer Cotton said hastily, ‘I doubt that. I’ll go see what’s what—you stay in the bed!’ He’d heard from Mrs Cotton how the lad had overdone the day before.

Farmer Cotton went to the next door along the passage and tapped lightly. There was no answer. Perhaps Mr Frodo was in the bath room, making his early morning ablutions. The good farmer found the bath room empty, however, and in the kitchen neither Mrs Cotton nor Rosie had seen the gentlehobbit up and about. The Cotton sons were all out in barn or byre or field, no use asking them. Perhaps Frodo had overslept, but it certainly wasn’t like him to do so.

Farmer Cotton went back to Mr Frodo’s door, tapping a bit louder. ‘Mr Frodo!’ he called. ‘Mr Frodo?’ He eased the door open. Ah, it was as he’d suspected. Mr Frodo had overslept this morning. The room was still dark, there was a lump in the bed, the only sound was the soft breathing of a sleeper. ‘Mr Frodo?’ the good farmer said, not wanting to startle the gentlehobbit. He frowned when no answer came; he hadn’t thought Mr Baggins a deep sleeper.

He crossed to the window to throw open the shutters, letting in the bright morning sun which flooded the room and sparkled on a white jewel that the sleeping hobbit clutched tightly. Mr Frodo wasn’t asleep, for he hadn’t wakened to the call or the light and his eyes were partway open, but he seemed half in a dream.

‘Mr Frodo?’ Farmer Cotton said, feeling the first faint stirrings of alarm. ‘Mr Frodo, are you all right?’

’It is gone for ever,’ Frodo said, his half-open eyes staring into nothingness, his hand tightening on the jewel until the knuckles shone white, ‘and now all is dark and empty.’

’Not dark at all, ‘tis a beautiful spring morning!’ Farmer Cotton said, but Mr Frodo didn’t hear him, not at all. The farmer was just about to find one of his sons to send for the healer when Mr Freddy spoke from the door.

‘Is aught amiss?’

’Your cousin’s not himself; I think he’s ill,’ Farmer Cotton said worriedly.

With the help of his heavy walking stick Freddy made his way to the bed and sank down. His keen glance took in the jewel, clutched in a desperate grasp, and knowing the jewel’s function, he put up a restraining hand. ‘No healer,’ he said. ‘It would only grieve my cousin and be a bother to him.’

’Do you know what’s wrong with him?’ Farmer Cotton said.

Freddy nodded. ‘I have a good idea,’ he said. ‘I’ll sit with him as long as he’s ill; you can bring me my breakfast here as easily as you do to my own bed, after all.’

’Yes, Mr Freddy,’ Farmer Cotton said. He didn’t feel right about leaving Mr Frodo so, not calling in the healer, but then he didn’t exactly look sick. Farmer Cotton wasn’t sure just how he looked. The word lost came to mind, and he shook himself in irritation for letting his mind wander into fancy. ‘How long do you suppose...?’

’O I’d imagine this will last only a day or two,’ Freddy said confidently. In truth he had no idea, but he didn’t want a healer or a lot of well-meaning folk bothering Frodo in his present state. ‘I’ll sit with him until he wakens. Don’t you worry, Farmer Cotton, he’ll be fine.’

’Very well, Mr Freddy,’ Farmer Cotton said, reassured by the gentlehobbit’s self-possession.

Fredegar waited through the day with Frodo. Some instinct kept him talking of all the good things he could think of: the taste of bread fresh from the oven, the sky on an autumn evening, the scent of rain on parched ground, the feel of a cool breeze on a hot day. He was terribly worried, though he did not show it to Mrs Cotton or Rosie when they’d bring him yet another meal or cup of tea. Either the jewel had lost its potency, which he doubted, or the memory of evil which had assailed Frodo was so strong that the power of the jewel waned by comparison.

He wished Samwise were here, but there was no way to get a message to the gardener. Sam was somewhere in the far Northfarthing, and who knew where? By the time a message reached him, this might be over, for good... or for ill. Merry, Freddy thought, but no. Merry kept his own delicate balance. Frodo would not want him worried over something he had no power to affect. Freddy did not even consider calling Pippin, a child still in Freddy’s estimation, but then, he’d had little waking time with his young cousin since that last evening at Crickhollow. He’d like to take the time to get to know Pippin better, hear the story from his and Merry’s and Sam’s perspective someday... but his thoughts were wandering.

Freddy was still weakened from his own fight, but stubbornly he stayed by Frodo’s side throughout the day and into the night, turning aside the Cottons’ inquiries with a smile and brief reassurance. Farmer Cotton, finding him dozing in the middle night, exhaustion writ plain across his features, privately resolved to call the healer for the sake of both gentlehobbits on the morrow.

Mr Freddy must have known what he was talking about, for though Mr Frodo had showed no sign of hearing or seeing anyone that day, he was up early the next morning as if nothing had happened. He wakened with surprise, as a matter of fact, to find Freddy dozing on a chair drawn up next to his bed.

’What’s this?’ Frodo said. ‘What’s happened?’

’You had a bit of a bad spell,’ Freddy said. ‘Scared the good farmer half out of his wits, and it was only my silver tongue that kept them from pouring draughts down your throat in an effort to ease your distress or whatever their aim might be. Personally, I always think draughts quite distressing on their own merit.’

’A bad spell?’ Frodo echoed, confused. ‘What, in the night?’

’No cousin, the whole and entire day. It’s tomorrow already, you see.’

’You’re not making any sense,’ Frodo grumbled, sitting up and swinging his legs to the side of the bed. He put a hand to his head and grunted. ‘Dizzy,’ he murmured.

’I expect you’re light-headed from lack of sustenance,’ Freddy said. ‘Do you want me to bring you a tray?’

’Can you walk that far and back again, balancing a tray in the bargain?’ Frodo said acidly.

‘No,’ Freddy said. ‘I just thought it would be nice of me to offer.’

In spite of himself, Frodo laughed, and at the sound Rosie Cotton stuck her head in at the door. ‘Ah, you’re awake!’ she said brightly. ‘Ready for breakfast?’

’Bring it on!’ Freddy said. ‘I’m not sure I could walk to my room this morning without a bit of aid, so I’ll just have mine here in the company of my esteemed and ancient cousin.’ He jumped as Frodo poked him, and swatted at Frodo’s hand.

’ ‘ere now, watch out!’ Frodo creaked in his best imitation of an elderly gaffer. ‘Ye’ll bother me rheumatics, ye will, and I’ll gi’ ye what for if’n ye do, young whippersnapper! Show some respect for yer elders!’

’Now, now, gaffer,’ Freddy soothed. ‘We’ll have some nice thin gruel for you shortly, just the way you like it, won’t we, lass?’

’Yes Mr Freddy,’ Rose said with a smile at his nonsense. It was good to see him on the mend, nearly his old self again, though it would take some months before he’d be able to assume the name “Fatty” again. ‘I’ll be right back,’ she promised, and went to the kitchen to inform her parents that both their charges seemed to be on the mend.

Chapter 47. Fighting the Darkness

Freddy was halfway through his own breakfast when he looked up to see Frodo staring down at his untouched plate. ‘What’s the matter, cousin, would you like something else? I could call Mrs Cotton to—‘

’No,’ Frodo said, looking up. ‘I’m not very hungry, it seems.’

’Feverish? Liverish?’ Freddy said with concern. ‘It’s not like you to be off your feed.’ Frodo smiled faintly. He hadn’t dared to be off his feed, returning from the Quest, with Samwise watching him closely and Merry and Pippin ready to jolly him into eating more than he wanted whether he felt like eating or not.

’It’s not as if I’m about to waste away,’ Frodo said, then cursed himself for his incautious choice of words. Freddy looked at him quizzically. ‘I’m sorry, Freddy, I didn’t mean—‘

’No offence taken,’ Freddy said quietly. ‘It’ll do you no harm, I imagine, to miss one meal, but you were dizzy when you awakened. You ought to at least try to eat.’

Frodo did try, but laid his fork down after only a few bites. ‘I’m sorry, Freddy, I seem to be taking a page out of your own book. I truly cannot eat another bite. What I would really like is a nap.’

’Then you shall have it!’ Freddy said.

’Why don’t you seek your own bed?’ Frodo suggested. ‘You look exhausted.’

’That’s what I admire about you, cousin, the way you choose your words so carefully, always such an encouragement to a sick hobbit,’ Freddy said lightly.

’Go on with you,’ Frodo said, but he put a hand to his head while clasping the jewel with the other. ‘All I want is a bit of peace.’

’Very well, Frodo,’ Freddy said. He rose from the chair. ‘Call if you need anything.’

’I will,’ Frodo said, lying back on the pillows and putting his arm over his eyes.

’Miss Rose!’ Freddy called. Frodo seemed to be asleep already.

’Yes Mr Freddy,’ Rose said, poking her head in. She’d evidently been listening outside the door.

’You may clear away, lass,’ Freddy said. ‘Excellent victuals, my dear, but my cousin is more tired than hungry I fear. He spent a restless night,’ (this was not the exact truth, Frodo had lain as still as a stone, scarcely seeming to draw breath), ‘and I think he needs sleep more than food at the moment.’

’Yes Mr Freddy,’ Rose repeated, and swiftly gathered the dishes, cups, cutlery, jam pots, salt and pepper, teapot and other accoutrements onto the tray.

When she was gone, Freddy laid his hand over Frodo’s, still clasping the gem. ‘Peaceful dreams, cousin,’ he said. He shuddered suddenly, having a disquieting vision of a shrouded Frodo, his cousins taking their leave with the traditional words: May your dreams be all of peace, and then picking him up to carry him to the burial. Squeezing Frodo’s hand, he said firmly, ‘Sleep well, Frodo, and I shall see you at elevenses.’

Frodo sighed but seemed to smile in his sleep, and subtly reassured, Freddy made his way slowly to his own room, collapsing on the bed, asleep the instant after his head hit the pillow.

***

Frodo was still “off” to Freddy’s eyes for a good week afterward, though he always turned a cheerful face to the Cottons, knowing that Samwise would have an earful on his return if the Cottons thought anything was amiss. He ate well enough, laughed heartily, wrote a few more pages of the story, rode Strider to inspect progress on Bag End; in short, did all he’d done before the bad spell. Still, there was something Freddy couldn’t put his finger on...

A few days before Samwise was due to return, a letter came from Southfarthing for Freddy. Recognising the handwriting, he said to Frodo, ‘It’s my turn, now.’

’Lobelia’s written to you?’ Frodo said.

’First time since the Troubles,’ Freddy said. ‘I cannot imagine what she’d have to say to me of all people.’

’Open it and find out,’ Frodo suggested.

Freddy grinned at his cousin. ‘You’re dying of curiosity,’ he said cheerily. ‘Shall I stretch out the suspense?’

’I’ll be dying of old age,’ Frodo said, ‘if you keep me waiting any longer.’

Freddy laughed and opened the letter. His expression grew puzzled.

’What is it?’ Frodo asked.

‘She’s asking me to come and visit her,’ Freddy said. ‘Why? She never had much use for the Bolgers before. Was always trying to tell my father how to make the Quarry more profitable, and invariably scolding my mother and advising her how to bring us up properly. Of course my parents never listened to her nor heeded her advice and it drove her wild.’

’Perhaps she wishes to offer her advice at first hand,’ Frodo said.

’Undoubtedly,’ Freddy said.

’Are you going?’ Frodo asked.

‘Have I a choice?’ Freddy retorted. ‘From all accounts she saved my life.’ He made a sour face. ‘Of all the hobbits in the Shire, to be beholden to Lobelia Sackville-Baggins!’

Frodo laughed. ‘I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time.’

’Are you having a relapse?’ Freddy said acidly. ‘You sound delirious.’ He rose to find Farmer Cotton to make the travel arrangements. Although he was walking much more easily, he didn’t trust himself to ride a pony for that distance, and so Farmer Cotton borrowed a phaeton from a wealthy neighbour and arranged for Young Tom to drive Mr Freddy down to Hardbottle. He’d return home to Bywater and wait for a message to fetch him back again when the visit was done.

***  

Shortly after second breakfast on the Twenty-fifth of March, the day Sam was due to arrive home, a farm lad on a lathered pony rode into the Cottons’ yard. As the Cottons came from byre and barn to greet him, he shouted, ‘Mr Frodo Baggins! I’m lookin’ for Mr Frodo Baggins! Is he hereabouts?’

’He’s up Hobbiton-way, at Bag End,’ Farmer Cotton answered, shading his eyes. With the barest thanks, and no further word, the lad wheeled the pony and sent him at a smart pace back down the lane.

’What was that all about?’ Mrs Cotton said, wiping her hands on her apron as she came down the steps.

’I don’t know,’ Farmer Cotton admitted, scratching his head. ‘Too young for a quick post rider, and no horn, neither.’

’I’d’ve sworn that was Mr Pippin’s Socks he was riding,’ Nibs said. ‘Nick would know better, of course.’ That brother was off to the pony market that day, having left just after early breakfast was done.

’Grey ponies aren’t that common,’ Farmer Cotton agreed, ‘but I couldn’t imagine why a farm lad would be riding Mr Pippin’s pony, now, could you?’ The Cottons agreed it was a mystery, and that Mr Frodo would probably have a tale to tell them at supper, and then all scattered once again to their work.

Not long after, a waggon came down the lane at a good clip. Jolly was the first to identify the driver. ‘Samwise!’ he shouted. ‘Sam’s back!’

Sam pulled the pony to a stop and jumped down, hurry in every line of his body. He nodded to Farmer Cotton and said, ‘Mr Frodo needs to be off, and he wants me with him. Do you have a fresh pony I could ride?’

Farmer Cotton was a practical hobbit. ‘Nibs!’ he called. ‘Take the pony and waggon; Jolly, saddle Whitefoot, quick as you can!’ Both hopped to obey. Turning to Sam, Farmer Cotton said, ‘Do you have time for a bite?’

Sam shook his head. ‘Mr Frodo wanted to be off within the hour. I’m glad I stopped by Bag End first to check on the repairs before coming here or I’d’ve missed him.’

Turning from the kitchen window, Mrs Cotton said, ‘Rosie! He’s to be off again! Quick, girl, pack up a sack o' bread and cheese and some o' those dried-apple tarts you baked for tea yesterday! I’ll fill a water bottle.’

As Jolly was leading Whitefoot from the barn, Rosie ran down the steps, sack in hand. ‘Hullo and goodbye, Samwise,’ she said pertly, thrusting the sack at him. ‘It’s getting so I don’t know if you’re coming or going!’

’I’m sorry Rosie,’ Sam said. ‘I’ll hope to make it a longer visit next time.’

‘You do that!’ Rosie said. Sam fastened the sack to the saddle, mounted quickly, and turned the pony’s head towards the lane.

’Thanks!’ he shouted. ‘I’ll bring him back to you soon’s I can!’

‘Safe journey, and swift return!’ Farmer Cotton called back. Whitefoot, fresh from the field, was full of spirit and carried Samwise rapidly out of sight.

Just before elevenses, Mrs Cotton caught sight of a familiar figure walking down the lane. ‘Rosie!’ she cried. ‘Marigold’s on her way! P’rhaps she came to invite you to tea this day.’

’It’s my turn to invite her,’ Rose said, puzzled. ‘I wonder what she’s about...’ She hurried to change out of her old work-dress, suitable for scrubbing floors but not for receiving visitors. Coming down the steps, she felt her heart turn over. Marigold’s face was streaked with tears. Had something happened to Sam?

’Mari!’ she gasped, running up to her friend. ‘What’s happened?’ She was aware of her mother coming up behind, laying steadying hands on her shoulders, and her father and brothers crossing the yard.

’O Rosie,’ Marigold sobbed, ‘O it’s awful, just terrible news!’

’What is it, lass?’ Farmer Cotton said soberly, reaching them.

’It’s Captain Merry Brandybuck—he’s dying!’ Marigold said brokenly. At the shocked exclamations from the Cottons, she nodded, gulping back tears. ‘A farm lad came on Mr Pippin’s pony from Long Cleeve,’ she said. 'He rode through the night to fetch Mr Frodo to take leave of his cousin.'

’We saw him,’ Jolly said. 'What happened?' 

The girl could not answer. Grief washed over her anew and she buried her face in her apron. 'So bright,' she said brokenly. 'So bright and fair, singing as they rode...'

’Come in, lass,’ Farmer Cotton said, gently taking Marigold’s arm. ‘Come, sit down, have a cup o' tea. It won’t make the news any better, but it’ll help in the taking of it.’ Chores forgotten, they all walked silently up the steps and into the house, settling at the table while Mrs Cotton quickly made tea and Rose, numb with shock, set the cups around.

All the while, Marigold wept, wiping her eyes with her apron. As the tea was poured out, Farmer Cotton took her hand. ‘Now, Marigold, tell us. What’s happened to Mr Merry?’

’I heard the lad tell Mr Frodo,’ she said, trying to calm herself enough to speak. ‘He and Mr Pippin were racing their ponies acrost a field. Mr Merry’s pony—he stepped in a hole.’

The Cottons gasped. ‘Kilt outright?’ Farmer Cotton asked gravely.

’No, the pony broke a leg and had to be put down, and Mr Merry was badly hurt. Mr Pippin sent word that he was dying...’ Sobs overcame Marigold once more, and she covered her face with her apron once more.

Rose sank down on the bench, realisation sinking in. ‘Dying,’ she echoed in a whisper. ‘O Mum...’ All her annoyance with Mr Merry turned to grief as she dissolved in tears. She felt her mother’s arms envelop her and she clung tightly in return, weeping bitterly. ‘I never wished him so ill,’ she cried. ‘O Mum!’

’I know, my love, I know,’ Mrs Cotton murmured, rocking and soothing. There was really nothing else to be done. When Rose had calmed somewhat, her mother sent her to wash her face, and then told her to walk with Marigold back to the Gamgees. If Sam had gone with Mr Frodo, fresh news might reach Number Three before it came to the Cotton farm. If no news came by suppertime, Young Tom would fetch Rose back home.

There was no news, and the Cottons ate a silent supper. There was no singing during washing-up, and the farmer and his sons smoked in silence until it was time for them to take themselves off to bed.

The next day dragged on with no news as well. The Cottons kept themselves busy with all the necessary chores that are found on a farm, but still the hours seemed to creep by. After the noontide meal, Jolly rode up to Number Three to invite the Gamgees to tea.

The Gaffer, always one to look on the worst side of a matter, surprised everyone by saying, ‘It must be good news if Samwise is not back yet. Why, if Mr Merry had died yesterday, Sam would’ve been back here today!’ No one wanted to say what all were thinking, that Mr Merry might have lingered a day after the urgent summons, might be breathing his last at this very moment. They wouldn’t know, would they, until Sam returned.

Near the end of another long day, a messenger arrived at Number Three. Beyond all hope, Mr Merry had rallied and would be returning to Bag End with Mr Frodo to recuperate. They’d be bringing Mr Frodo’s furniture back with them from Crickhollow, and would the Gamgees kindly see to furnishing one of the bedrooms by procuring an extra bed and all the necessary trappings thereto, so that they could put Mr Merry right to bed when they arrived?

’Why wouldn’t he convalesce amongst his own?’ Rose said when Marigold brought the joyful news to the farm.

’Perhaps Mr Frodo figures he’d get more attention here,’ Mrs Cotton said briskly. ‘I’ve heard Brandy Hall is a regular warren!’ The others nodded sagely. They’d heard the same.

The Cottons loaded up their waggon with the contents of one of their guest rooms, featherbeds and all, and carted all off to Bag End. The smial still smelled of new paint, but opening all the windows wide to catch the spring breeze soon took care of that problem.

Word soon spread amongst the residents of the area that Mr Frodo was coming home to stay. A steady stream of hobbits presently made their way to Bag End, carrying various and sundry items. Within a day, the pantry was stuffed with good things and the smial was practically furnished. ‘I do hope there’s room for Mr Frodo’s things!’ Mrs Cotton remarked to Marigold as they hung the donated curtains at the windows.

’He only sent one waggonload off to Crickhollow, you know,’ Marigold answered. ‘It was just a small house, I understand. He left quite a bit behind, and of course...’ Of course, little if anything had been salvaged of what he'd sold with the smial to the Sackville-Bagginses. Mr Frodo would be bringing Mr Bilbo’s old desk and all of his books back, of course, but as far as furnishings went, it was just as well that the neighbours had been generous.

Nick was set to watch the Road on the day they expected the arrival. Sure enough, around teatime he came galloping up the Hill, shouting, ‘They’re coming! They’re on the way!’ Hobbits quickly gathered round, and as the waggon drove into the row they burst into song.

Rose hardly recognised Mr Merry, dressed as he was in ordinary attire and well wrapped up despite the warm spring day. Mr Frodo and Samwise helped him out of the waggon and into the smial, where they settled him in the parlour with a cup of tea whilst all hands set to unpacking the waggon. Mrs Cotton and Rose welcomed Mr Frodo home and then made their excuses; the work of a farm is never done, and the Cottons must return home to take care of the evening chores. Mr Frodo was touched by the warm wishes expressed in words and more tangible ways and could hardly speak for the gratitude that welled up in him.

What with the excitement and all, the Cottons missed teatime altogether. They had just finished the evening chores and were getting ready to sit down to their evening meal when Jolly looked out the window. ‘Put another plate on, Mum!’ he said. ‘Looks as if Samwise is coming to supper.’

Mrs Cotton hurried to set another place, but not before she looked Rosie over and told her to run a brush through her hair. Rose complied and was back at the table, trying to look composed, when Sam’s knock sounded on the door. He was welcomed in and sat down at the table, to be peppered by questions as soon as he’d finished his first plateful of Mrs Cotton’s good cooking.

Samwise explained how Mr Merry had been near death when he and Mr Frodo arrived at Long Cleeve, but somehow Mr Frodo had been able to call him back.

’Call him back?’ Farmer Cotton asked curiously.

Sam shook his head. ‘I cannot explain it,’ he said. ‘Mr Merry was lost in darkness, and Mr Frodo brought him back to the light, and that is all I can tell you about it.’ The Cottons continued their meal, digesting his words along with their meal. All remembered how Mr Freddy had suddenly started eating again after Mr Frodo had a talk with him.

‘Perhaps he’s going to study to become a healer,’ Jolly said.

’Why study?’ Nick countered. ‘Sounds as if he’s already healing folk.’ Sam made no further comment, simply tucked into his third helping with a thoughtful look.

After supper, Samwise invited Farmer Cotton to join him on the steps for a pipe. Sharp glances were exchanged amongst the Cottons at this, and the sons made sure they were busy elsewhere about the barn or house, in order not to throw Sam off his stride. Darkness was falling when Farmer Cotton re-entered the house.

’Samwise on his way back to Number Three?’ Mrs Cotton asked, hanging the dish towel on its peg.

’No, not quite yet,’ Farmer Cotton said. He walked over to stand behind Rose, who was hanging the last of the cups on their hooks. When she finished, he put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her cheek. She turned in surprise. ‘Rosie,’ he said. ‘Sam has something he’d like to say. He’s waiting on the steps.’

Mrs Cotton took a sharp breath, her hand at her heart, and the farmer crossed to his wife to put an arm around her waist. ‘Go on, Rosie. Don’t keep the hobbit waiting,’ he said.

Rose nodded and walked across the kitchen to the doorway, her heart pounding. Had the moment finally come? She took her shawl from its peg and threw it around her shoulders, then slipped out the door.

Chapter 48. Lobelia's Bequest

The next morning, Merry wakened to Frodo pulling back the curtains. ‘Good morning, sleepyhead!’ Frodo greeted him. ‘It is shaping into a lovely day.’

’Is it?’ Merry said groggily as Frodo helped him to sit up.

’Of course it is! The sun is shining, the birds are singing, Samwise and Rosie are getting married, the mallorn in the Party Field looks as if it’s about to burst into flower—‘

’Wait, wait,’ Merry interrupted, grasping Frodo with his good left hand. ‘What was that?’

’Samwise came whistling up the lane to tell me that he expects the mallorn, and it is a mallorn, will wonders never cease? He expects the mallorn to flower any day now.’

’Not the tree!’ Merry said in irritation, and Frodo grinned. ‘Samwise and Rosie!’

’Isn’t that what you expected when you sent Sam off yesterday, telling him not to come back until he’d asked the girl to marry him?’ Frodo held a basin for his cousin to splash his face, and then supplied a towel. ‘At least they’ll both move in with me after the wedding; I’ll have two fine cooks in the bargain instead of one!’

’Let’s hope you don’t starve in the meantime,’ Pippin said from the doorway. ‘Congratulations, Merry! Do me a favour...’

’What’s that?’ Merry asked, slipping his right arm into its sling.

’If you take it into your head to marry me off, give me some warning so that I can make a nice long journey to Gondor...’ The cousins laughed together, a fine way to start the day.

They made a leisurely breakfast, then Frodo seated Merry on the bench before the smial to drink in the spring sunshine while he and Pippin did the washing up. The cousins ate elevenses on the bench together, took a slow walk to the party field to admire the budding mallorn with a picnic basket for the noon meal, returning to Bag End for tea. After tea, Merry sat on the bench again to watch the colours of the setting sun.

There Freddy found him as the Bracegirdles’ waggon pulled up before Bag End. ‘Merry!’ he cried, and seeing the sling added, ‘But what have you done to yourself, cousin?’

’I nibbled my nails down to the nubbins,’ Merry said. ‘The sling is just a precaution.’

’Did you nibble your head as well?’ Freddy said, eyeing the stitched wound there after Horatius Bracegirdle had helped him down from the waggon.

’I tried, but I had to leave off, it is so difficult to reach, you know. Cousin Horatius! You’re looking astonishingly well this evening. What brings you to Bag End?’

’This troublemaker here,’ Horatius said. ‘Sit down before you fall down, Freddy, or I won’t answer for the consequences.’ He turned back to the waggon to help down Alyssum. ‘Cousin Merry, I’d like you to meet my wife.’

’Your wife!’ Merry said. ‘However did you convince a lass to marry you?’

Alyssum took her husband’s arm and smiled up at him. ‘He and a band of Bracegirdles rescued me from a group of ruffians who thought they’d take some spoils with them from the Shire.’

’You, spoils?’ Merry said gallantly. ‘You look more like a north-Took to me!’

’I was a north-Took,’ Alyssum laughed. ‘I’m a Bracegirdle now.’

’O I hope it won’t make you all sour and liverish,’ Merry said, and Horatius snorted.

’You Brandybucks take things all too lightly,’ he said. ‘No sense of responsibility.’

’Too lightly!’ Merry said. ‘What about the Tooks?’

’I’m astonished they don’t float away altogether,’ Horatius said. ‘It’s getting cold out here, Freddy; let us get you into the smial.’ He released his wife to help Freddy up from the bench, then eyed Merry. ‘You don’t look all that well yourself, cousin. Take my other arm.’ He helped both Merry and Freddy into Bag End, where Frodo met them and took Freddy's arm from Horatius; Freddy was tired, he saw, and needed either a bed or a comfortable chair without delay.

’Come in to the parlour! I thought I heard ponies.’ He looked past Horatius to see Alyssum. ‘Welcome, cousin Ally! What brings you all the way from Hardbottle?’ Frodo led the way to the parlour, where they settled Merry and Freddy. He raised his voice. ‘Pippin!’ Hearing a faint reply from the direction of the larder, he called, ‘Put the kettle on! We’ve guests!’ He saw Alyssum and Horatius seated, and walked to the doorway. ‘Will you stay? I’m sure we can scramble up some eggs, put some sort of supper together.’

’We had some business to conduct on behalf of Auntie Lobelia,’ Alyssum answered his first question without her usual smile.

’And how is Lobelia?’ Frodo asked.

Horatius’ long face grew even longer, if that was possible. ‘I’m sorry to say she passed away a few days ago.’

’What!’ Frodo said. ‘Horatius, my condolences.’ He forgot about supper and sank down into the nearest chair.

’She lived a good long life,’ Horatius said. ‘She was more than an hundred, you know.’

They talked quietly of Lobelia until Pippin brought a tray with teapot, cups and all the necessities. Horatius rose abruptly. ‘I left the ponies tied up outside,’ he said. ‘Is there a place where I can put them away?’

’Samwise has already taken care of your ponies,’ Pippin said, pouring out tea. ‘Sit down, cousin. Have you found your smile yet? I remember you lost it years ago...’

’As a matter of fact I have,’ Horatius said, taking Alyssum’s hand and squeezing it. ‘Right here. May I introduce my wife? Ally, this is Peregrin Took, of whom you’ve heard so much, I’m sure.’

’All bad!’ Pippin laughed.

’Not quite all,’ Allysum said thoughtfully. ‘I think I heard something good, once.’

’What’s the business that brings you here?’ Pippin asked. The savoury smells of frying bacon and toasting bread were wafting through Bag End.

’Don’t you have to attend to something?’ Horatius asked.

Pippin shrugged. ‘Sam is cooking,’ he said. ‘He put your ponies away, said it looked as if Mr Frodo had guests to supper, washed his hands and started in chopping and frying and such.’

’That’s just like Sam all over,’ Merry said. ‘He hasn’t even moved in yet and he’s already taking care of things.’

’Aunt Lobelia’s business would go better on a full stomach, I think,’ Horatius said, and, good host that he was, Frodo quickly turned the talk to other topics until Samwise called them to the table. Frodo didn’t know how he’d done it, but Sam had somehow counted noses without anyone seeing him. The proper number of places was set, two bottles of wine were breathing on the sideboard, the plates were warmed and a light supper awaited them in covered serving dishes.

When Frodo went to the kitchen to invite Sam to join them, the latter said, ‘Marigold just about had our supper ready when I stepped out to see who’d arrived in the waggon, Mr Frodo. She and I will be back to see to the washing up just as soon as my old gaffer is fed and abed.’

’Thank you, Samwise, but we can do our own washing up,’ Frodo said. ‘You’ve done so much already.’

’You enjoy your guests, Mr Frodo,’ Sam said firmly. ‘O, and I made up beds for your cousins whilst the dinner was cooking.’

’You’re a wonder, Sam,’ Frodo said, but the gardener only shook his head.

’It’s all in a day’s work, Mr Frodo,’ he answered. ‘Have a nice supper—now don’t let the food go cold!’

’I won’t, Sam,’ Frodo said, clapping his gardener on the shoulder and returning to the dining room.

When they finished eating, Marigold appeared from the kitchen as if by magic. ‘I’ll just clear away,’ she said with a smile. ‘Sam’s already laid a fire in the parlour, and I do believe the sherry’s ready to pour out.’

Freddy stared in astonishment. ‘My, Frodo,’ he said. ‘Here I thought the Bolgers were the richest family in the Shire, but I see you Bagginses have us beat!’

’What’s that?’ Alyssum laughed.

’All the servants in the Manse put together cannot match one Samwise,’ Freddy said.

’You have the right of that, cousin!’ Pippin laughed. ‘Not to mention he’s handy for carting heavy packs and slaying monsters in the bargain.’

’Now I know you’re telling tales!’ Alyssum said, and her husband nodded, sipping his sherry.

’Speaking of tales,’ he said meaningfully.

’Yes, Horatius, you said you were here on Lobelia’s business,’ Frodo said, recalling the point of the visit.

’I have here Aunt Lobelia’s Will,’ Horatius said, putting his sherry down and pulling a bulky envelope from inside his waistcoat. ‘As her nearest living relative, I am the executor of her estate.’

’I see...’ Frodo said uncertainly. ‘Does this have anything to do with Bag End?’ He thought uneasily to himself that Lobelia might have said she’d given it to him, but her Will might say otherwise. She was, after all, over a hundred years old.

Horatius smiled briefly. ‘As a matter of fact, she does mention Bag End.’ He saw Frodo tense and hastened to add, ‘if only to confirm her verbal agreement with you, that the smial reverts back to your possession.’

Freddy leaned forward. ‘Tell him the good news,’ he said.

Horatius lifted an eyebrow at him. ‘You are speaking out of order,’ he said. ‘We must do things properly.’

’I’m one of the witnesses; you’ll see my name there, right and proper, in red ink,’ Freddy said. ‘I held her hand while she was dying, for goodness’ sake, and promised to bring the news to Frodo as soon as possible. She wanted him to know!’

’What news?’ Frodo said.

’Her last words were to you, cousin,’ Freddy said. ‘ “Tell him to pay those who are working to put a roof over the heads of the homeless,” she said.’

’I would if I could,’ Frodo answered.

Seeing that he would not have the chance to read out the Will from start to finish, as was proper, until he satisfied Freddy’s demand, Horatius cleared his throat. ‘Yes, you can,’ he said. ‘Aunt Lobelia’s left you all her money, and what was left of Lotho’s, for that purpose. Of course she did not word it quite so restrictively. The exact wording is...’ and he read down through the document to find the place, ‘...”to use in helping hobbits made homeless by the Troubles”. So you see, it need not be restricted to paying the workers, but may be used towards purchase of materials and such as you find necessary.’

Frodo was flabbergasted. ‘All her money, and Lotho’s—‘ he said. ‘But you’re her nearest living relation...’

’She left us the property, of course,’ Alyssum said, 'including the fields of Longbottom Leaf and the vinyards. We won’t be amongst the homeless hobbits you need to assist.’

’I never thought I’d see the day when someone would say it,’ Pippin said.

’Say what?’ Horatius asked, frowning over the top of the Will at the irrepressible young Took.

’To Lobelia Sackville-Baggins!’ Pippin said, raising his sherry glass. The others echoed the toast, and all drank to the memory of a memorable hobbit.

’May her dreams all be peaceful ones,’ Freddy said softly, setting down his glass. When Frodo met his gaze, he added, ‘She had no son to sing her out of the world, so she asked me to do the honours.’ He swallowed hard. ‘I shall never forget her.’

’She’ll be long remembered,’ Frodo said, ‘longer, because of her generosity at the end.’

’Hear, hear,’ Horatius said, raising his glass again. They drank a final toast to Lobelia, and then it was time to retire for the evening.

Chapter 49. 'As Long as Life Shall Last'

On the Sixth of April the mallorn tree burst into flower, and all in Bag End, host and guests alike, made their way to the Party Field for a picnic in its honour. The Bracegirdles had stayed over for the blossoming of the tree, the only one of its kind in Middle-earth this side of the Misty Mountains. It was the wonder of the neighbourhood, but Sam made very sure that all understood the blossoms were not for gathering.

In its short span of life, the sapling had grown taller than a hobbit’s head, its slender branches arching out in blessing above the wondering hobbits. ‘How big will it get?’ Freddy asked in awe. He listened to the four Travellers attempt to describe the Golden Wood, and shook his head. It was something you’d have to see to believe, he thought. For the first time, he wished he’d gone with them and not stayed behind at Crickhollow.

’It would be a lovely place for the wedding,’ Sam said a little wistfully.

’And why not, Samwise?’ Frodo said. ‘We could still have the wedding breakfast at the Cottons’ farm, and the ceremony and supper here!'

’That’s more than a mile to carry the bride!’ Sam protested.

Pippin laughed. ‘I could carry her before me on Socks, if you didn’t mind, Sam,’ he said. ‘It would be like a picture out of a book of old tales, the knight in shining mail rescuing the damsel in distress and delivering her safe to the arms of her true love!’

’Just so long as you didn’t carry her off, cousin,’ Freddy remarked. He had moved into Bag End from the Cottons’ house, after expressing many warm thanks to the family that had taken him in and nursed him back to health not once, but twice. He didn’t know how he could ever repay their kindness, though they insisted that there was no debt outstanding.

’It would truly make a picture,’ Frodo said with a smile. ‘What do you think, Sam?’

’If the Cottons agree,’ Sam said. ‘As tradition goes, the wedding ought to take place on their farm, it being Rosie’s home and all.’

’Ah, but Bag End will be her new home,’ Merry said. ‘Handy, that. When the party’s over, she won’t have far to go to retire.’ He yawned. ‘Speaking of retiring,’ he said, and laid himself down on the blanket. ‘Don’t mind me,’ he added sleepily. ‘You just go ahead with your plans, and I’ll be happy to put my snore of approval on them.’

’Not a bad idea,’ Freddy said, reclining on his own blanket, and soon the two convalescents were snoring in harmony while the wedding speculations went on. Speculations they must be, and not plans, until they received a thorough going-over by Rosie and Mrs Cotton! As Rosie could hardly say "no" to Samwise in anything he asked, of course, the mallorn tree was included in the plan. 

The plans went off without a hitch: first the wedding breakfast with its songs and anecdotes and toasts in the flowery meadow behind the barn at the Cottons' farm, and then the laughing bride was borne away to the Hill above Hobbiton and the Party Field where the ceremony would take place. If the guests had to walk a bit further than was customary to go from breakfast to ceremony, there was no complaining. Farmer Cotton and several neighbours provided waggons for those who were not fit enough to walk the distance. It was quite a procession: first came the Cotton family and Hamfast Gamgee and his children come from all parts of the Shire, walking aloing, in their midst Mr Pippin on his smoke-grey pony with Rose before him on the saddle. Mr Freddy was in the lead waggon behind the wedding party. Mr Merry and Mr Frodo rode with Mr Freddy to keep him company, all three singing gustily, and they soon had the entire crowd singing with them.

Samwise and Young Tom Cotton brought up the rear, of course. Sam would have asked Frodo to stand up with him if only Frodo weren’t acting as Deputy Mayor and performing the ceremony. Someone had to witness the vows, and so Sam, after consulting with Mr Frodo, asked Tom, who was flattered and pleased.

They arrived at the Party Field to find Frodo waiting and ready, Rosie standing between her parents nearby. Tom took his sister’s hand from his parents’ handhold and placed it in Sam’s while Mrs Cotton stifled a happy sob. To think her little girl was grown and getting married! Frodo spoke the traditional vows, which Sam and Rosie repeated after him. Freddy, watching, saw his cousin’s face grow sober as he intoned, ‘...until I've drunk the last drop in the cup, and no more days remain to me... as long as life shall last, until I take my last breath of the sweet air.' He wondered what Frodo was thinking.

After the ceremony, Mr and Mrs Samwise Gamgee stood beneath the mallorn tree to receive the congratulations of the guests, and then the feasting and singing and dancing and merrymaking began, lasting well into the night. Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took distinguished themselves (if you could call it that) by composing a tune for the happy couple and singing it to them at the top of their voices, having quaffed more wine than was good for them, perhaps. As a matter of fact, Mr Merry danced upon a tabletop, all over one of Mrs Cotton’s best tablecloths, and in full sight of all the guests. It was the talk of the Shire, reaching all the way to Brandy Hall, to the distress of the Master of Buckland, who shook his head over this report of the antics of his son.

Frodo, Pippin, and Sam, on the other hand, were glad to see Merry evidently recovered from the state he’d been in a little more than a month before. Freddy, too, was in high spirits, partaking freely at the groaning tables of festive food, washing it all down with the fine wine and ale provided for the occasion. He grew a bit tipsy, indeed, and fixing Frodo with an unsteady eye, asked, ‘So, cousin, tell me, when will I be dancing at your wedding?'

Sharp Mistress Cotton, standing nearby, heard the question and saw a shadow of sorrow cross Frodo's face. Before he could formulate some sort of answer for his cousin, she swept him into the dance, crying, 'You have not danced yet at my Rosie's wedding, Mayor Frodo! I am claiming this dance!' Freddy laughed and turned back to the feast.

When the dance finished, Frodo was out of breath, and Mrs Cotton steered him to a bench. ‘Are you all right, Mr Frodo?’ she asked in alarm.

’Fine, fine,’ he waved her concern away, taking out his pocket handkerchief to wipe his face. ‘It’s rather warm for the First of May, I find.’

’Let me get you a cool drink,’ she said, and before he could gainsay her she’d moved away to complete her mission of mercy. Frodo did feel better after downing the cool water, fresh from the well at Bag End, and he sat and sang with the rest, laughing and clapping and watching the dancers swirl until the torches burned low and the morning star appeared on the horizon.

Sam and Rosie had stolen away from the party in the middle night, though they listened long to the merriment through the open windows of Bag End. About the time the last of the merrymakers were seeking their pillows, Sam and Rose were rising from their bed to face the new day. It was a day off from their duties, Mr Frodo had made that clear, and while the cousins were still peacefully slumbering, Sam and Rose packed up a picnic and walked to a secluded spot on the other side of the Hill to enjoy the first of many days... together.

Chapter 50. Tiny, but not Insignificant Pause

Elanor gave a sigh as her father finished. ‘I never tire of hearing the story,’ she said. ‘I wonder why Mr Frodo wrote it out so nicely here, but only put the barest mention in the Red Book?’

’Perhaps he grew tired of writing near the end,’ Sam said, his face sober. He closed the book and stroked a gentle hand over the cover. ‘I never knew he was failing,’ he said now, and not a little sadly, ‘I never saw, or perhaps I didn’t want to see. I didn’t know until the very end, when he was leaving. Mr Merry saw, Mr Freddy did, even my Rose, but Mr Pippin and I, we kept telling ourselves that all was well.’ He sighed.

’When do you think Mr Frodo knew?’ Fastred asked.

Sam considered. ‘I think he had an inkling after the thirteenth of March,’ he said. ‘Mr Freddy noticed that he was “off” for a time after that, but then he seemed to regain his strength. Still, when he was reciting the wedding vows, I believe the wizard’s words came back to him then. “Long life and health—but you will have neither,” Saruman said. He said it wasn’t a curse, but a kind of foreseeing, but what if that was one of his lies?’ His hand tightened into a fist upon the cover of the book.

’I do not think the Wise would have allowed such a curse to fall upon the Ring-bearer,’ Elanor said softly. ‘I remember, Queen Arwen offered Mr Frodo her place on the ship, even before he returned to the Shire to confront the wizard.’

’You’re right, Ellie,’ Sam said, his hand relaxing again to lie flat upon the polished leather. ‘Of course you are. I only wish—‘ He broke off and stared into the dying fire.

’Is the story nearly done then?’ asked Rose. ‘In the Red Book there were only a few pages more after the wedding.’

’Ah, no, Rosie-lass,’ Sam said, brightening a bit. ‘There are some chapters to go, yet, in this bundle. But it’s late, and I’ve lost half my listeners,’ he looked fondly about at the sleeping children, ‘and so I think we’ll put it off until the morrow.’

Chapter 51. “No Time Like the Present”

Life at Bag End settled quickly into a routine. Frodo would be up before the dawn, taking a cup of tea from the cosied pot on the kitchen table with a smile and greeting for Rose as she worked on early breakfast for herself and Samwise, for Mr Frodo never ate early breakfast (“I’d make a terrible bird,” he’d joke with a mock shudder. “Let all those worms slip away, indeed!”). He’d take himself off for a walk, back in time for second breakfast.

As long as Freddy, Merry and Pippin were at Bag End, the gentlehobbits ate in the dining room, while Rose and Sam took their meals in the kitchen, though Mr Pippin had more than once threatened to join them there if he could not persuade them to sit at table in the dining room. Just one of his jests, Rose thought. It was nice of Mr Pippin, not teasing, not a way of pointing out the difference in their station. In fact, he hardly seemed to notice that there was any difference between them.

However, the day after the Travellers departed for Crickhollow and Mr Freddy was carried away in a coach to Waymeet at the behest of his Great Aunt Camellia, Frodo appeared in the kitchen doorway just as Sam and Rosie were sitting down to their second breakfast.

’May I join you?’ he asked. ‘It seems echoing and empty and so terribly lonely in the dining room, with just one place setting at that table.’ He knew better than to ask Sam and Rosie to join him in the dining room. They could hardly refuse him a place at the kitchen table, however, and it became routine for him to take second breakfast and the noontide meal there, in the early days, when his cousins were not visiting.

Mornings Mr Frodo would putter about Bag End, watching Rose or Samwise about their business, asking questions as Sam told Rose he had in the old days--Sam could hardly get his work done for answering all of young Mr Frodo’s questions, back before old Mr Bilbo had left. Mr Frodo learned all about baking bread, rolling out piecrust, chopping vegetables, Mrs Cotton’s secret for making the best pork pie in the area, and various other culinary accomplishments. He’d already learned from Sam about planting and hoeing, which plants grew well together, which insects were pests and which were helpers, but he learned ever more. Sometimes he stood with his pipe in his mouth and his hands in his pockets, but more often he was on his knees with his hands in the soil, or up to his elbows in bread dough in the kitchen on those leisurely Spring mornings.

After noontide, Mr Frodo would shut himself up in the study and work away at his writing. It was a good thing that he had two good meals behind him (Rose made sure his second breakfast made up for the lack of early breakfast and later elevenses, which he almost never ate). Rose brought him his tea there, but often found it gone cold, the food untouched, when she came to clear away later, and supper was the same story, until she hit on the practice of dusting the study after bringing him his supper, distracting him with talk so that he consumed all before going back to his writing.

Some evenings he’d sit with them in the kitchen, enjoying a cup of tea during the washing up. Sam tried to get Mr Frodo to go down to the Ivy Bush with himself and his old gaffer, but on those evenings, Mr Frodo would shut himself into the study and write late into the night, until Sam's return. Samwise would turn down the lamps and knock at the study door. ‘Do you want anything else, Mr Frodo?’ he’d ask.

Frodo would put down the pen, turn from the desk and say, ‘Is it time for bed already, Sam? I lost myself again, I’m afraid.’

Sometimes he’d call Sam into the study and the two of them would talk long, especially when Mr Frodo was trying to get down a part of the story he wasn’t sure of. The long journey from Weathertop to Rivendell, for example, required much input from Sam. Frodo did not remember it much at all.

Mr Freddy returned from Waymeet in the last week of May, and after a few days’ rest he and Mr Frodo went off on their ponies to Tuckborough, for the Tookland’s annual pony races on the First of June.

Samwise took advantage of Mr Frodo’s absence to put up a chicken yard and henhouse. He hadn’t wanted to do it earlier, with Mr Frodo writing and all. Hammering was a distracting sound, though when he thought about it later he realised Mr Frodo would have been happy to help him build a new home for chickens. It just didn’t seem right, the thought of his master hammering and sawing and clipping wire.

Tom Cotton came from the farm to help. ‘So, Tom, when are you going to make things right with Marigold?’ Sam asked when they were halfway through nailing down the floorboards.

Tom looked at him in astonishment. ‘There’s naught wrong!’ he said stoutly.

’O yes there is,’ Sam said. ‘She’s been waiting ever so long for you to speak, and you hain’t shown no signs of it yet!’

Tom chuckled. This, from the hobbit who’d waited over a year to ask his sister Rose...

’What’s the rush?’ he asked. ‘The time just don’t seem right quite yet.’

’It’ll never be right, Tom,’ Sam said through the nails he held in his mouth. His old gaffer always scowled and scolded (“Ye’ll swallow them nails one day!”) but it was handy, and he hadn’t swallowed a nail yet.

’What’s that you mean?’ Tom said, sobering abruptly. ‘Do you mean old Hamfast’ll turn me down when I ask?’

’No no, not that at all!’ Sam said. ‘It’s just that...’ He selected another nail and secured the board with a well-placed blow or two. No fox or stoat would be able to push up these floorboards to get at the chickens. Tom waited. Sam was slow to speak, but worth waiting for. ‘I was a great one for waiting,’ he concluded.

’Don’t I know it!’ Tom chuckled, nearly swallowing his own mouthful of nails.

’I couldn’t ask Rose, what with Mr Frodo going off and all; I couldn’t let him go off alone and I couldn’t marry Rose and leave her,’ Sam said.

’I’d’ve followed after you and fetched you back,’ Tom said. ‘You cannot leave a bride! Why, it would be...’ Words failed him.

Sam nodded. ‘That’s why I didn’t speak,’ he said. ‘And then after we got back, there was the Shire all tattered and torn, and hobbits homeless, and trees cut down. The Lady had given me a box, and the time seemed right to use it...’

Tom nodded. Sam had told them about the Golden Wood, and while it still sounded like a fairy tale, there was no gainsaying the miraculous growth of the newly planted trees, and the wondrous mallorn in the Party Field.

’I almost spoke at Yule,’ Sam went on, ‘but then Mr Merry and his jokes, well... he put me off, he did. Made me mad, I’m sorry to say, though he meant no harm by it.’

’Well we all know you’ve a stubborn streak, Samwise Gamgee,’ Tom said, laying down another board. ‘The best way to get you not to do something is to tell you that you’ve got to go and do it! Pity Mr Merry didn’t know any better.’

’Ah well, he’s a gentlehobbit you know,’ Sam said, excusing Mr Merry’s ignorance the best he could. ‘Still,’ he said, ‘it was Mr Merry who got me to speak to Rosie after all.’

’How’d he do that?’ Tom asked curiously. He’d heard his parents say much the same thing.

’Life is short, Tom,’ Sam said in reply, ‘and it’s uncertain. One moment, Mr Merry was riding along, all brave and bright upon that fine pony of his, and the next he was lying in the grass, his pony’s leg broke and all. He nearly died! If’n it hadn’t been for Mr Frodo...’ he said soberly.

’There is no right time,’ he concluded. ‘Don’t wait until you’ve put away “enough”—you’ve a place on the farm, your parents will take Mari in and treat her like their own daughter, and the farm’ll be yours someday in the bargain. Don’t wait for things to get better. They might, but they just might not.’

Tom considered all this, his hammer poised over a nail, and then suddenly he laid the hammer down, spat out the nails into his palm, put them in a neat little pile, and got up, dusting his hands.

’Where are you going?’ Sam asked.

Tom grinned. ‘There’s no time like the present,’ he said. ‘If your old gaffer doesn’t turn a deaf ear, and if Mari will have me, would you stand up for me at the wedding?’

***

Early in the race festivities, Thain Paladin sought out Odovacar Bolger. ‘Come lift a glass with me,’ he said. ‘We’ll celebrate the return of our sons from the dead.’

Sitting in the Thain’s study, Odo waited for the Thain to come to the point. Paladin never did anything without a purpose, after all. He wondered if they were to discuss their previous agreement, though there was little point. Young Peregrin would not reach his majority for another four years, and until he did, there was no point in making wedding arrangements.

Paladin, however, turned the talk to Freddy. ‘He is not yet at home?’ he asked.

Odo shook his head. ‘No,’ he answered. ‘Nor am I sure that he ever will be.’

’What about the wedding you’d planned? When will that take place?’

Odo took a sip of the Thain’s fine ale. ‘I’ve released Melilot Brandybuck from our agreement,’ he said. ‘I don’t know if Freddy will ever be strong enough to marry. I would not see him married and the lass a widow within a few short years’ time.’

The Thain had brightened to hear that Freddy’s arranged marriage with the Brandybuck lass had been dissolved, but sobered again at the reason. If Freddy wouldn’t marry at all, then...

’But what of the title? Who’ll be the Bolger if Freddy sires no heirs?’ Paladin asked. ‘What’ll happen to your holdings?’

’I’ve named Rudivacar as my heir,’ Odo said quietly. ‘Fredegar is in full agreement. He knows as well as I do how precarious is his hold on health. The healers say that starvation and ill-treatment have strained his heart.’ He started to sip at his ale again, then put the glass down and stared at a string of rising bubbles. ‘I may have the distinction of surviving my son.’

’Quite a few Tooks have had that distinction,’ Paladin answered soberly, ‘thanks to the tender offices of the ruffians.’ He went back to the topic of interest. ‘So Rudi will inherit the title and the Bolger fortune. What about the Manse?’

’He gets that as well. Freddy will never live there,’ Odo said.

’Ah,’ Paladin said, but he kept his further thoughts to himself.

***

The pony races were as festive as ever; more so than the previous year, when Tookland had been shut up tight. Ponies came from all over the Shire to race, and all was as it ever had been.

Odovacar Bolger was glad to see his nephew Ferdibrand Took looking so well. Ferdi took fourth place overall on his dappled brown mare. ‘Wasn’t that the mare I wanted?’ Freddy said, sitting next to his father in the box. ‘The one you gave him when he came of age?’

‘That’s right,’ Odo said. ‘She came out of his father’s lines, and I thought it fitting he ought to have a pony of his own and not have to ride one of the Thain’s to perform his duties.’

’I’m glad you gave her to him,’ Freddy said. ‘From what I’ve heard, she served the Shire as well as he did. He needed a fleet-footed pony to keep him out of the ruffians’ clutches, and she saved him more than once.’ They watched the Thain’s daughters bedeck the winning pony with garlands of wildflowers. Out of the corner of his eye, Freddy saw his uncle Rudivacar watching Pimpernel Took save one of her garlands to decorate Ferdi’s pony.

’Looks as if there’s a wedding in the offing,’ he said casually, just to see Rudi’s reaction.

’I imagine so,’ his uncle said glumly, and then turned the talk immediately. ‘They’ll be serving the banquet soon,’ he said. ‘We’d best make our way there before the crowd gets the same idea.’ He helped Freddy up and the two of them began to walk slowly towards the Great Smials, followed by Odovacar and Rosemary.

Freddy had not been the only one watching Rudivacar. Paladin saw Rudi’s gaze on Pimpernel as well, and smiled grimly to himself.

After the banquet, he asked Rudi to join him for a walk. ‘Fine evening,’ he said.

’Fine feast,’ Rudi answered, patting his stomach. ‘It is good to take a walk to settle all that rich food.’

The two walked together in the meadow under the stars, listening to the singing from the hobbits gathered around the bonfire.

’I understand you’re interested in my daughter Pimpernel,’ Paladin said abruptly, when they were well away from all ears.

Rudi stopped, startled. ‘I—,’ he said. ‘I don’t—‘ He gulped and finally found the power to speak coherently. ‘Who could have said such a thing?’

Paladin chuckled. ‘I’ve eyes,’ he said. ‘I know you were to have married a Boffin girl some years back, but she died of the fever...’

’That’s right,’ Rudi said. ‘Though we didn’t know each other at all, it still struck me. I’ve never really looked for someone else.’

’But now you’re interested in Nell,’ Paladin said.

’There’s a previous attachment,’ Rudi protested.

’On your part?’ Paladin said delicately. ‘Is there a wedding in your future? Let me congratulate you!’

’No not at all!’ Rudi said. ‘I’ve seen the glances passing between Pimpernel and my sister’s son, Ferdibrand.’

’Ah,’ Paladin said, forcing sadness into his tone. ‘That one. Completely unsuitable, I’m afraid. I would never consent to their union.’

’What?’ Rudi said, thunderstruck. ‘After all he did for you, and for Tookland?’

’He’s a brave lad, indeed,’ Paladin agreed. ‘But he has nothing to his name but pride. His father lost his family’s fortune, his mother died mad, and he’s brave enough, but that arm of his is hopelessly crippled. He’ll never make anything of himself, and I doubt he’d marry the Thain’s daughter in his position, no matter what his feelings were for her.’

’I see,’ Rudi said slowly. ‘But what of Pimpernel’s feelings?’

’She’s a good girl,’ Paladin said. ‘Does what she’s told. She’ll marry the hobbit her parents pick out for her, and set herself to be content in the bargain. She’s that sort. I only wish her brother Peregrin had half her sense of duty.’

’Have you picked out a husband for her yet?’ Rudi asked dryly.

’Well now, that’s just what I asked you out here to discuss...’ Paladin said easily, taking Rudi’s arm and beginning to walk again. The Bolgers’ fortune, their holdings, the Quarry and the mines, gold amongst the takings, were all within his grasp.

***

A fortnight later, Frodo resigned his position at Deputy Mayor at the Lithedays celebration in Michel Delving. Good old Will Whitfoot, back to his original jolly plumpness, was restored to office by an overwhelming vote. It is possible that one or two hobbits mistakenly voted against him; as there were no other contenders for the office it is difficult to envisage how they managed to do so. In any event, Will was Mayor again, and Frodo retired to the quiet of his routine at Bag End once more.

***

There were two weddings on the same day in September, one in the Party Field below Number Three, and the other at the Great Smials. Frodo kissed Marigold on the cheek and shook Young Tom Cotton’s hand. ‘I wish I could stay to celebrate,’ he said, ‘but I am obliged to be in Tookland for the wedding of the Thain's daughter the day after the morrow.’

’I’ll celebrate enough for the two of us, cousin!’ Freddy said.

Frodo looked at him in astonishment. ‘What, you’re not coming? It’s your own uncle being married, not to mention he’s marrying your cousin!’

’I’m afraid I’m not up to the journey,’ Freddy answered. ‘I’m tired, Frodo. Give Rudi and Nell my congratulations, and ask them to stop by Bag End to see me on their way to Bridgefields if you don’t mind.’

’I don’t want to leave you, in that case,’ Frodo began, but Freddy put up a hand to stop him.

’I’m counting on you to represent me creditably in Tookland, cousin,’ he said. ‘I’ll be fine, with Sam and Rosie to look after me! I’ll be all the better for the rest, you’ll see.’

’He’ll be all the better, not having to share the platter of mushrooms,’ Pippin laughed, lifting his nose to sniff the air. ‘I do believe Rosie is cooking up a fine mess of mushrooms for elevenses, but if we stay we’ll be late for tea!’

’That would never do,’ Merry said from his saddle, though he gave Freddy a sharp glance. His cousin did look tired, Merry thought to himself. ‘Get yourself a good rest, Freddy.’

’Enjoy the mushrooms!’ Pippin said, stepping lightly up into his saddle as if the mail he wore weighed no more than an ordinary coat. ‘Coming, Frodo?’

’I’m right behind you,’ Frodo said, but he stopped to embrace Freddy. ‘Take care of yourself,’ he said quietly. ‘Send word if...’ He caught Sam’s eye, and the gardener nodded. If Mr Freddy showed signs of failing he’d ride to Tuckborough himself to bring word to Mr Frodo.

’I’ll send word if I think you’re missing the better celebration,’ Freddy said lightly. ‘Go on with you now, Frodo! We’ll be fine here!’ He took Rose's arm and, leaning on her, made his way back into Bag End.

’I’ll take care of him for you, Mr Frodo,’ Sam said. ‘He’ll be comfortable, he’ll eat well, he’ll enjoy the wedding, and I’ll make sure he rests.’

’Thank you, Sam. I know I can depend upon you,’ Frodo said. He mounted his pony, and the three Travellers turned their ponies’ heads towards Tookland.

Chapter 52. 'When the Leaves are Gold'

In that time of year when the leaves were gold before falling, Frodo turned to Merry and Pippin in the yard of the Great Smials and said, ‘I think I will ride with you towards Crickhollow, at least a part of the way. I can’t go far or for a long time now, of course.’

 ‘Is Freddy that poorly?’ Merry asked, but Frodo only shook his head, looking troubled.

 ‘He’ll probably outlive the healers who are predicting his early demise!’ Pippin said stoutly, to try to cheer his older cousins. ‘That’s what I’d do in his place!’

 ‘I’m sure you would at that, scamp!’ Frodo said fondly.

 ‘Too bad for Rudi that neither his niece nor his nephew could be at the wedding,’ Merry said, changing the subject as he checked his pony’s gear with his usual care.

Socks danced and tossed his head as Pippin mounted; he half-reared when he felt his rider settle and snorted, eager for the journey. ‘Coming, Merry?’ Pippin said as he always did.

 ‘I’m right behind you, cousin!’ Merry said, mounting his own Jewel.

Brown Strider stood patiently waiting for Frodo, looking half asleep with one ear cocked forward and the other back on his drooping head. As Frodo mounted the pony’s head came up and craned around, a questioning look in his dark eye. Frodo chuckled and stroked the soft neck, and then his attention was claimed by the Thain and Mistress, emerging from the Smials to see them off. A chorus of good wishes, a lilting of Tookish voices raised in song, and soon they were on their way, waving to the hobbits of Tuckborough as they rode through the little town.

 ‘Where was Estella?’ Pippin asked, when they’d finished their farewells and ridden out of Tuckborough.

 ‘Fever and sore throat, and so not allowed to come,’ Frodo said. ‘I’d imagine she was fit to be tied.’

 ‘Think of the mischief we were spared,’ Merry said, rolling his eyes.

 ‘I don’t know,’ Frodo said thoughtfully. ‘She’s growing up, you know. I think she’ll be quite a beauty.’

 ‘She made a very pretty farm lass indeed,’ Merry laughed, ‘though I’d hardly say beauty! Ornamental enough to decorate her husband’s arm, at least.’

 ‘Merry! She’d put a frog in your bed if she heard you!’ Pippin said. ‘Maybe I ought to anyhow, on her behalf.’

 ‘You should not speak with such disrespect,’ Frodo added. ‘Where are your manners, Merry?’

 ‘Forgive me, Frodo, I was just remembering how she’d follow us and pester us whenever we visited Freddy. “Midge” indeed!’ Merry said. ‘But soon she’ll be married off and her husband’s worry, thankfully.’

 ‘Married off? Who’s the lucky hobbit?’ Pippin asked curiously.

 ‘Don’t know,’ Merry said casually. ‘There’s an agreement; I overheard Odo talking about it with my father.’

 ‘Your father!’ Pippin shouted. ‘So you’re the one, eh?’

 ‘No,’ Merry said in annoyance. ‘My father would have told me. In any event, my parents have arranged no marriage for me.’

 ‘They’d leave such a thing to chance?’ Pippin asked.

 ‘They respect my judgment,’ Merry said.

 ‘Ah,’ Pippin said, shaking his head. ‘Would that my parents felt the same way.’

 ‘You have to show a little judgment first, to give them something to work with,’ Frodo said dryly, but Pippin only laughed.

They rode through the golden morning, crisp with the promise of winter to come, but by noontide the Sun was warming the land and the Travellers rolled their cloaks and fastened them to the saddles. Near midday they were passing a farmstead when a group of excited children came racing towards the road, waving and shouting.

The Travellers reined in their ponies, waiting to see what the cause of the excitement might be. None of the buildings was on fire and the fences were all in good repair, no animals straying...

 ‘Dinner-dinner-dinner! Stay to dinner!’ a small hobbit was shouting before his older brother shushed him. Breathless, the group lined up in a ragged formation under the older brother’s stern eye. When they were arranged to his satisfaction, he turned and bowed to the bemused Travellers.

 ‘Our parents’ compliments, and would you kindly consider gracing our table with your presence?’ he said, rolling his tongue with satisfaction over the elegant words. To think of it! The Travellers at their table!

Fresh, hot food sounded immensely better than cold sausage-rolls and apple pockets, not to mention the prospect of dimming eight pairs of shining eyes with a refusal. The Travellers dismounted and led their ponies to the hole, surrounded by chattering children.

They made a merry meal there in the Green Hill country, extracting themselves with difficulty to continue the journey. However, extract themselves they did, and by the waning of the afternoon they were riding gently down into the beginning of the trees. Frodo shivered, seeing the tree where he’d hid when the Black Rider had first appeared, an age ago and in what seemed another life. Merry, noticing, reached over to loose Frodo’s cloak from its fastenings. ‘Here, cousin. Don’t take a chill!’ he warned. He took up his own cloak and he and Frodo were soon warmly wrapped.

Pippin, on the other hand, rode along seeming unaffected by the growing chill under the shadow of the trees. He laughed when Merry suggested he ought to follow the older cousins’ example. ‘I’m not an old gaffer yet, feeling the chill in my bones,’ he said. ‘You two go ahead, but don’t muffle me up just because you’re cold!’

They camped that night near the ruins of the old Crowing Cockerel, former home to the best beer on the Stock road. The inn had been burned by the ruffians and not yet rebuilt. Pippin hauled some large stones from the remains of the chimney to make a circle for a fire. Frodo dug in a likely place at the base of a gnarled oak, rejoicing to find truffles there, and they roasted these with bacon on long sticks.

 ‘Seems as if some of Lobelia’s money might go to rebuilding the Cockerel’, Pippin said. ‘Travelling hobbits are homeless, after all.’

 ‘Not if they leave a home behind them,’ Frodo countered.

 ‘What about the innkeeper and his family?’ Pippin pressed. ‘They have no home at present.’

 ‘Not to mention a home for the best beer on the Stock road!’ Merry said. ‘I think Pippin has the right idea, Frodo.’

 ‘I wonder what Lobelia would think?’ Frodo said.

 ‘Otho liked the Cockerel,’ Merry said. ‘I’d heard him say so when Lobelia wasn’t nearby.’

 ‘Well then, since some of the money comes from Otho, we’ll see to rebuilding this landmark,’ Frodo said. They toasted this sentiment with their water bottles, rolled themselves in their blankets, and slept.

Frodo wakened in the night, looking for something he couldn’t quite remember. The fire had died down to embers and the wood about them was dark and silent. For a moment he thought he saw a light shining, heard an echo of song, but it must have been a lingering scrap of dream. There was no sign of Bilbo or the elves.

Chapter 53. Lease on Life

Returning to Bag End on the First of October, Frodo found the smial subdued. Freddy had taken to his bed, and Sam and Rosie were very worried indeed, though Sam said only, 'I'd like you to take a look at him before I say anything.'

’Welcome to your home, Frodo!’ Freddy said weakly, extending a hand, and Frodo crossed quickly into the room to take it.

’Freddy, what are you doing in bed? ‘Tis a beautiful autumn evening. You ought to see the sunset.’

’I can see a little,’ Freddy said, nodding at the window. Samwise had put him in the best guest room, giving him a view of the Party Field below. From where he lay he could just see the top of the mallorn tree peeking above the sill. ‘Sit down, rest your feet, Frodo, and Sam will bring you a cup of tea. Or would you prefer sherry, or brandy?’ he added mischievously. It pleased him to sound as if he were the host and Frodo the guest in his own home.

’I’ll be right back,’ Frodo said. ‘I just want to greet Rosie, and from the good smells she’s in the kitchen as we speak.’

Going out into the hallway, he heard Sam’s whispered report. Freddy had enjoyed the simple wedding, though he’d gone to bed early, before the wedding supper as a matter of fact. He’d spent the day after the wedding in bed, and arose early the next day to tell Sam and Rosie he anticipated his parents’ arrival from Tuckborough, and possibly his Uncle Rudi and new bride. Though there was no road from Tuckborough to Bywater, there was a track along which a coach might go, a bit too rough for casual travel. Only those with great need who did not care to ride pony-back used it.

Just before teatime a coach had pulled up before Bag End. Freddy was sitting on the bench in front of the smial, enjoying the autumn sunshine and watching for the arrival. He rose and welcomed his relatives, and they retired to the parlour for tea served by Rosie.

’It seems odd to be receiving guests here,’ Freddy said. ‘Perhaps you ought to pretend I’m Frodo.’

They all laughed. ’Freddy, you’re looking well,’ his mother said with a kiss for his cheek.

’I am well,’ he said firmly, embracing her, then turning to greet his father and uncle and Pimpernel. ‘And do I call you Auntie Nell?’ he said with an insouciant grin for the new bride.

’Just so long as you do not call me late to dinner,’ Pimpernel said with a smile, and Freddy laughed.

’I think I’m going to like having you in the family, Aunt,’ he answered. ‘I do believe you’re my favourite aunt!’

’She’s your only aunt,’ Rudi said dryly.

’Exactly,’ Freddy said smugly. ‘Makes things so much simpler, don’t you think?’

After teatime, they walked down to the Party Field to admire the mallorn tree, and then to the bottom of the Hill where the new Mill had been built in the image of the original torn down by the ruffians. ‘Are you sure you’re up to the walk?’ Odo asked his son.

’Of course!’ Freddy said. ‘Never felt better!’

’There’s something about a millwheel,’ Rosamunda said to Pimpernel. ‘I find it—soothing, and refreshing at the same time. I could stand here and watch the wheel turn for hours.’

’It’s ever-changing and yet always the same,’ Pimpernel answered. ‘I used to sit on the bank of the Tuckbourne when Da would take Pip fishing, and watch the water go by. Change may come—does come—and yet things stay the same. It is quite comforting, somehow.’

’I think it is time to turn back,’ Odovacar said. ‘We mustn’t be so rude as to come late to supper, especially when Samwise and Rosie have been so kind as to take us in when Frodo is not at home.’

Arm in arm Pimpernel and Rosamunda ascended the Hill, while Odo and Rudi took Freddy between them, that he might lean on them if the way proved too steep. They reached the smial to the welcoming smell of good food and Sam’s ‘Well come! You are just in time for supper.’

Their places were laid at the table, the wine was breathing on the sideboard and as they took their seats, Rose and Sam began bringing in platter after platter of lovingly-prepared food. ‘I can see why you’re staying here, nephew,’ Rudi said to Freddy. ‘I’d be tempted to stay on, myself...’

’Too close to the Great Smials,’ Freddy said complacently. ‘You’ve got to get my dearest Auntie Nell clear away, you know, and out from under her father’s thumb!’

’Freddy!’ Nell laughed, blushing, but he nodded at her meaningfully.

’You just wait and see,’ he said. ‘You’ll understand once you breathe the air of freedom in Bridgefields. The Thain hardly ever goes that far.’

They sat up late talking, and then sought their beds. Freddy was up early again, the next day, to see the travellers off.

’You look a bit tired, son,’ Rosamunda said in concern.

’I’m fine, really I am,’ Freddy protested. ‘Do not worry about me! You’re the ones who have to climb in the coach and journey for two more days—I will be staying here, waited on hand and foot by the faithful Sam and his Rose in the lap of comfort and luxury!’

Odo chuckled and embraced his son. ‘Be well, Freddy,’ he whispered. He felt Freddy’s arms tighten briefly, and then his son stepped away to say farewell to the newlyweds.

’Do not be strangers!’ Freddy said in parting. ‘I would welcome you to Bag End anytime you wish to come!’

’But would Frodo?’ Rudi laughed.

’I can talk him round,’ Freddy said, looking thoughtful and serious until he could no longer suppress his smile as the others laughed. ‘Safe journey!’ he said.

They climbed into the coach and were on their way. Freddy climbed into bed and there he remained until Frodo’s return.

Samwise recounted all to Frodo. ‘He overdid, is what he did,’ he ended. ‘Trying to show them that all was well, and no cause for worry, he wore himself out.’

Frodo returned to the bedroom with two cups of tea. Taking his, Freddy thanked him, sipping absently as he turned his eyes back to catch the last colours of the sunset. ‘What was it all about, Freddy?’ Frodo said. ‘Exhausting yourself to prove something to your parents? What?’

Freddy was silent, sipping his tea, and Frodo waited. Finally, Freddy said in a low voice, ‘I wanted to give them something to remember me by.’

’What!’ Frodo said, nearly spilling his tea in his surprise, and then he grew angry. ‘Don’t talk like that!’

’Don’t talk like what?’ Freddy said. ‘I’m tired, Frodo. No matter how much I sleep, I’m tired when I waken. I don’t want them worrying and hovering over my bedside, you cannot think how tiresome that is! Everything is tiresome these days.’

’So that’s it?’ Frodo said sharply. ‘You’re going to give up, fade away as the day fades into the night? I thought better of you than that.’

’Did you?’ Freddy said politely.

’Of course you’re tired!’ Frodo scolded. ‘You’ve been keeping late hours, walking all over Hobbiton, climbing the Hill for goodness’ sake, acting as if nothing’s wrong. Have you never heard of taking a short walk, adding to it each day, step by step?’

’Step by step,’ Freddy echoed. ‘I’ve always been more likely to take a mile when you give me an inch.’

’Start taking inches, Freddy,’ Frodo said, lifting his cousin’s hand in a firm hold. ‘Life is sweet, and it is short. Don’t cut it any shorter than you have to!’

’I’ll try, Frodo,’ Freddy said.

Frodo gave a nod of satisfaction. ‘You do that, cousin,’ he said. ‘Now get some sleep, and I will see you at second breakfast.’

The next day, Frodo went down the Hill to talk to Anise Grubb. ‘His heart has been strained,’ she confirmed, ‘but there’s no reason to shroud him just yet, if he’s careful,’ she added. ‘You say he walked up the Hill? That won’t do. Short walks, certainly, and add to them gradually, but if he wants to walk down the Hill he ought to ride a pony up again.’ She rummaged on a shelf. ‘Here,’ she said, finding a bottle and extending it to Frodo.

’What is it?’ Frodo asked.

’It’s a tonic, made to strengthen the heart. Give him just a few drops in a cup of tea when he’s feeling weak—a few drops, mind! The stuff can be deadly, taken in the wrong dose!’

’What is it?’ Frodo asked again.

’It comes from the foxglove,’ Anise said.

’That’s deadly poison!’ Frodo said.

’Yes it is,’ Anise nodded, ‘so be careful about the dosage. It can stop a heart as well as steady one, but it may well help your cousin.’

Frodo nodded. ‘It’s worth a try,’ he said. ‘Freddy’s nearly talked himself into an early grave.’

’Build him up with good food, gentle exercise, rest, and something to interest him,’ Anise said. ‘It’s amazing the hold on life our interests can give us.’

’Thank you,’ Frodo said, laying two silver pennies upon the table. ‘You’ve just given me an idea.’

Back at Bag End, he put a couple of drops of the tonic into the cup of tea Rose poured for Freddy, then told her to put the bottle on a high shelf, explaining what the healer had said. He brought the tea to Freddy, who was sitting up in bed, looking out on the bright day.

’Tea!’ Frodo said. ‘Drink up, and then I have a task for you.’

’A task?’ Freddy said.

’Yes. You haven’t gone over any of my writing in weeks. You’ve quite a bit of work before you to catch up! However can I copy it into the Red Book without your help beforehand, making sure it sounds right and correcting my spelling?’

’I—‘ Freddy said, but Frodo interrupted.

’Drink up; I don’t want you spilling on the papers,’ he said blithely. ‘I’ll be right back with the first instalment.’

Chapter 54. 'A Shadow of Old Troubles'

During the first week in October, several notable things happened.

Freddy gained in strength, slowly but steadily. His face no longer resembled the snowy linens on the bed; he regained his appetite and began to sit up and take notice. Three days after Frodo’s return, he picked up the papers Frodo had left on the bedside table and began to read. When Rose popped her head in at the door to check on him, he looked up. ‘Ah there you are, Missus Rose,’ he said. ‘Would you have such a thing as a pencil lying about?’

’I just might,’ Rose said. ‘Would you like a cup of tea to go along with it?’

’Nothing like a nice, crunchy pencil with a cup of freshly brewed tea,’ Freddy said cheerily. ‘Toothsome, that.’ He looked back down at the papers in his hands and was soon absorbed. When Rose brought the tea and pencil, he thanked her absently and leafed back several pages to jot some notations in the margin.

He looked up to see Rose still there. ‘Yes?’ he said politely.

’Your tea,’ Rose said firmly. She did not want it to go cold, not with those magic drops that Mr Frodo had measured into it before retreating into his study for the afternoon.

’Yes, yes, I’ll get to it,’ Freddy said.

’Best drink up whilst it’s hot,’ Rose said. Freddy raised an eyebrow, but put down the pencil to take up the cup. ‘Would you care for some fresh biscuits to go with your tea?’ she added.

’So that’s the lovely smell wafting through the air,’ Freddy said. ‘Indeed you are a thoughtful holekeeper, Rose, and spoil me terribly.’

’I’ll bring you a plateful,’ she said and proceeded to do just that, glad to find his teacup ready for refilling when she returned.

Bringing a cup of tea and plate of biscuits to Mr Frodo in the study, she reported Mr Freddy’s progress. ‘He’s actually picked up the papers you left there, Mr Frodo, and is reading and making jottings!’

‘Well that’s fine!’ he said. Freddy had politely taken the sheaf of papers that first evening, glanced at them, and then laid them aside, saying he’d get to them later. It seemed that “later” had come at last, meaning Freddy was feeling well enough to sit up and notice things outside himself, and Frodo breathed a sigh of relief.

Eyeing Rose, he added, ‘but I think you’re working too hard, Rose. You’ve been looking a bit peaked lately. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Have Samwise take you to the farm for supper. I’ll scare up something for Freddy and me.’

He managed to argue her into agreeing to go to the farm for supper, though she laid out cold supper in the dining room before departing. She could just imagine what Mr Frodo would “scare up”, a hunk of bread and a chunk of cheese, most likely, if he even remembered to eat at all! And poor Mr Freddy, confined to bed, unable to lift a finger to get his own meal... She looked in satisfaction at the platter of meats and cheeses, the slices of bread alternating brown wholemeal and snowy white on another platter, the artfully arranged vegetables, the dishes of pickles, the large cold jug of creamy buttermilk, and the bowl of apples polished to high sheen and grapes bursting with juice.

‘Looks good enough to eat,’ she said in satisfaction, even as her stomach gave another lurch. She could cook and serve the food well enough, ‘twas eating that was giving her the trouble these days. She’d ask her mum about it this evening at the farm.

***

Darkness had fallen when Frodo heard a voice behind him. ‘A fellow could starve to death in this place, and such a waste!’

’Freddy!’ he said, turning. ‘What are you doing out of bed?’

’Looking for sustenance,’ Freddy added. ‘I licked the last crumbs of biscuit from my fingers hours ago.’

’I’m sorry, cousin,’ Frodo said contritely, rising hastily to take Freddy’s arm. ‘Let us get you back to bed and then I’ll see what I can do.’

’Let us stop off at the dining room on the way,’ Freddy said. ‘Little fairies have left us a treasure, it seems, and it would be a shame to let the magic go to waste.’

’Go to waist, rather,’ Frodo said, catching a glimpse of the laden table. ‘That Rose!’ he said with a shake of his head. He seated Freddy and then himself and the cousins made a hearty repast, complete with contest to see who could build the tallest sandwich with the greatest variety of items.

’Shall we get you back to bed now?’ Frodo said when neither could eat another bite.

’I’d imagine Samwise has laid a fire in the parlour,’ Freddy said in answer. ‘Shall we let his effort go for naught?’

’Are you up to it, Freddy?’ Frodo said, studying his cousin’s face.

’Never felt better!’ Freddy said lightly, but under Frodo’s continued scrutiny he said, ‘Ah, well, I have felt better at some time in my life, but I feel remarkably well at the moment. Stronger than I have in days, and that awful breathless feeling is gone.’

’Breathless feeling?’ Frodo asked.

’Waiting to see if the next heartbeat would come; you’ve no idea how odd a feeling it is, and uncomfortable in the bargain,’ Freddy said.

’I had no idea,’ Frodo said slowly, but he began to understand Freddy’s earlier resignation, which he’d mistaken for unreasonable hopelessness. They went to the parlour, where indeed a fire was laid, just waiting for a spark, and brandy and a glass waited on a side table.

’What is in the tea?’ Freddy asked, fetching another glass and settling down to watch Frodo spark the fire. He poured out for them both and sipped appreciatively. Brandy Hall certainly lived up to its name, and Merry kept Bag End well-supplied with the Hall’s finest.

’Tea?’ Frodo said, straightening up and watching the fire catch, quickly becoming a cheerful blaze.

’Yes, the tea that Rose brings me twice each day, and stays to watch me drink. The other cups don’t matter if they go cold and must be poured out it seems, but those two cups...’ Freddy said shrewdly.

Frodo settled in his own easy chair, picked up his brandy and sipped. ‘Tea?’ he said again.

’Whatever it is, it steadies me,’ Freddy said. ‘You’re going to have to tell me eventually, if you ever want me to move out of here and leave you in peace in Bag End.’

’When are you leaving?’ Frodo asked casually.

Freddy laughed, then sobered again. ‘What is in the tea?’ he persisted.

’Medicine,’ Frodo admitted.

’What sort of medicine?’ Freddy said. ‘If we run out, what shall I ask the healer for?’

’There’s a plentiful supply,’ Frodo answered. He knew Freddy would give him no peace, however, so he finally told him what Anise Grubb had told him.

’Foxglove!’ Freddy said. ‘I knew you were trying to get your best guest room back, but do you have to poison me? Very inhospitable of you, cousin!’

Frodo laughed and sipped at his brandy. It was good to have Freddy back to himself.

They were still in the parlour when Samwise and Rosie returned. There was an air of suppressed excitement about the twain, but all Sam said was, ‘Will there be anything else you’ll be needing this evening, Mr Frodo? Mr Freddy?’ He hadn’t expected to see Mr Freddy out of bed, but then, Rose had said the gentlehobbit was much improved before they’d left for the farm.

’We have everything we need, Sam, thank you,’ Frodo answered.

’A veritable overabundance,’ Freddy added, raising his glass in a toast.

’Then we’ll just take ourselves off after washing up,’ Sam said, and soon splashing and singing could be heard from the direction of the kitchen.

’Something’s up, there,’ Freddy said.

’O?’ Frodo answered.

’Most definitely,’ Freddy said with a nod. ‘Didn’t you notice? He looked like the cat that got into the cream.’

’Now that you mention it...’ Frodo said. ‘What d’you think it could be?’

’I’ll get to the bottom of it, sooner or later,’ Freddy said. Frodo had no doubt. Freddy was a great one for asking questions and thinking about the answers until he had all the pieces put together to make a logical whole.

Two days later, Rose fainted while serving the cousins their noontide meal. She’d been looking pale, and Frodo saw her sway as she put down his plate, giving him just enough warning to catch her before she could hit her head, though the plate clattered to the floor and smashed, scattering roast and taters and gravy and vegetables.

’What’s this?’ Freddy said. ‘Cannot leave the pretty lasses alone, can we?’ He got up from his chair, took Rose’s hand between his own and patted it. ‘Missus Rose,’ he said urgently. ‘Rosie, can you hear me?’

’Get Sam,’ Frodo said. Freddy nodded and made his way slowly to the kitchen, finding Samwise ladling gravy over his own plateful, while Rose’s dinner awaited her on the well-scrubbed kitchen table.

’Sam, there’s a bit of a problem in the dining room,’ Freddy said, not wanting to alarm the gardener. He had a good idea of what ailed Rose, having put together her recent wan appearance with memories of his mother when he was very young, and now this fainting spell.

’Thank you, sir,’ Sam said, putting his plate down and taking Freddy’s arm. ‘I’ll just help you back to your seat, Mr Freddy.’

’Very kind,’ Freddy murmured and allowed himself to be helped. Sam dropped his arm when they reached the dining room, however, seeing Rose in Frodo’s lap.

’What happened?’ he demanded, nearly skidding in the gravy on the floor.

’She swooned, Sam,’ Frodo said. ‘Do you want me to go for the healer while you put her to bed?’

Freddy laughed. ‘No need for that, cousin!’ he said cheerily. Sam and Frodo turned to him in amazement. ‘Hobbits have been having babes for more years than you can count on all your fingers and toes, put together!’

’Babe!’ Frodo said.

Sam ducked his head and blushed. ‘Yes sir,’ he stammered. ‘We’ve just found out ourselves...’

Rose stirred, and Sam immediately moved to take her from Mr Frodo. ‘Where...?’ she said ‘What happened?’ Finding herself in Mr Frodo’s lap, she looked up in confusion. ‘How...?’

’It’s all right, Rose, this sort of thing is to be expected,’ Frodo said, helping her up and into Sam’s firm hold. ‘You’ve been overdoing, I suspect. You need to take better care of yourself and less care of lazy gentlehobbits! Freddy and I needn’t be waited on hand and foot.’ He fixed Sam with a stern look. ‘Sam, I’m sure there’s some lass in the neighbourhood looking for a bit of extra work scrubbing floors and chasing cobwebs.’

’Well there’s young Daisy Stubbletoes in Number Five,’ Sam said. ‘She’s a hard worker, and her mum is a fine cook.’

’Good,’ Frodo said. ‘Hire them both! Daisy can do a bit of scrubbing, and her mum can cook dinner and lay a cold supper each day. I’d expect that you can manage breakfast, Sam, which would most likely be the most difficult time for Rose these days... we’ll see she gets plenty of rest and doesn’t overdo.’

’But I—‘ Rose said.

Frodo fixed her with a stern eye. ‘There’s nothing for it but to follow along, Rose,’ he said. ‘You’re going to have to let yourself be pampered for once in your life. You may fuss, or you may enjoy it, but it’ll happen whatever you choose.’

’I’d choose to enjoy it were I you, Missus Rose,’ Freddy said with a wink. ‘Take her off, Sammy, and have her put her feet up, and bring her a cup of tea in the bargain.’

’But the mess!’ Rose protested, looking in dismay at the shattered plate and scattered food.

’Don’t you worry about the mess,’ Freddy said. ‘Did you know there are fairies about? I’m sure this will all be magically cleared away by the next time you peep into the room.’

’Undoubtedly,’ Frodo added. ‘Go on, Sam.’

’Yes sir,’ Sam answered, and putting an arm around Rose, he walked her from the room.

That evening Sam poked his head into the study to ask if Mr Frodo wanted anything else. Mr Freddy had sought his own bed several hours before. Rose had felt better at teatime and made sure the gentlehobbit had his special tea with his fresh-baked scones and cream, and then Mr Freddy had worked on Mr Frodo’s papers until supper and then asked Sam to walk with him to Number Three to look in on Hamwise. After smoking an after-supper pipe together, Sam walked Mr Freddy back to Bag End, and the gentlehobbit had made an early bedtime.

Sam tapped on the door and stuck his head in with his usual question. ‘Is there anything else I can get for you, Mr Frodo?’ His master didn’t look up; he was evidently deep in thought, not writing but perhaps thinking about what to write next. He’d laid his pen down and was sitting, unmoving in his chair. ‘Mr Frodo?’ Sam said again, feeling the vague anxiety for his master that had nagged at him most of the year, stir to fresh life as coals ignite to flames under a rush of air.

Frodo did not look up, simply stared before him. Sam crossed to the desk. ‘Mr Frodo?’ he asked softly. His master looked very strange and pale, scarcely breathing, his eyes seeming to see things far away. ‘What’s the matter, Mr Frodo?’ Sam asked, reaching out to touch the nearest hand.

’I am wounded,’ Frodo said in a faraway voice, ‘wounded; it will never really heal.’ He blinked and seemed to notice Sam’s presence for the first time.

’Sam?’ he said in his normal voice. ‘Is it time for bed already? I lost myself again, I’m afraid.’

’Yes sir,’ Sam faltered. ‘It’s late.’

’Ah,’ Frodo said, getting up from the chair and stretching as if he were stiff from sitting in one position for hours. ‘Then I will bid you good night, Sam.’ The turn seemed to have passed, and he was quite himself the next day.

It was not until afterwards that Sam recalled that the date was October the sixth. Two years before on that day it was dark in the dell under Weathertop.

Chapter 55. Echoes out of the Past

Frodo awakened the next morning feeling possibly more drained than when he’d stumbled to his bed the previous night. It had taken nearly all the strength of his considerable will to conceal the depths of his distress from Sam, and he wasn’t quite sure how he’d manage the rest of this day. With any luck, Sam would be preoccupied with Rose and domestic affairs. Frodo would take himself off for his usual morning walk and shut himself safely in the study for the rest of the day and evening, alarming no one. He did not want sympathy, he did not want to see worry, even alarm, in the eyes of those who loved him. He wanted to continue as always, in the ordinariness of the everyday. The only problem with his plan was Freddy. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to evade his cousin’s sharp eye. It had been easy enough when Freddy was too sick to notice, but now...

The darkness that had seemed to grasp him in a great claw had retreated to its usual lurking place at the edge of thought. The cold laughter that had surrounded him as he struggled, helpless in an unrelenting grip, was again subdued to a painful tickle, an itch beyond scratching. The Shadow that sought to pull him down into the darkness had retreated, awaiting its next opportunity, ever patient, ever watchful. And the wanting, the empty, lost feeling, the craving that never quite went away, that last March and then again yesterday had swelled to an overwhelming flood that threatened to drown him... Frodo shuddered. As long as he stayed strong, he could continue to fight. He fingered the white jewel that hung at his breast.

He stretched cautiously. The pain and stiffness in his shoulder and side had eased and the sense of frozen chill was nearly gone. He considered missing second breakfast, but Freddy would surely suspect something was amiss if he did. No, the best course was to muster his strength and follow his usual routine.

Splashing his face with cold water, Frodo noticed anew the missing finger. Wounded with wraith-blade, sting and tooth, he was a battered and bedamned fellow indeed. He raised his face from the basin, to meet his own haunted eyes in the mirror. He tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace than a grin. With a stern look at the poor pathetic hobbit reflected there, he said, ‘Get a hold of yourself, Frodo son of Drogo. One would think the cares of the world have fallen upon your shoulders!’ He bent over the basin again and scrubbed at his face until he thought the skin might possibly wear away then looked up again. The dripping face before him was reddened from rubbing; better than dead-white at any rate. Briskly he dried his face and dressed.

Frodo forced himself to step quickly down the corridor to the kitchen, past Freddy’s door. Freddy never rose until second breakfast, which gave Frodo a space to recover himself. He stopped in the kitchen, poured himself a cup of tea, exchanged greetings with Samwise—thankfully his voice was firm and cheerful, no sign of the weakness he felt. ‘How’s Rosie?’ he asked casually.

’Wretched,’ Sam said, shaking his head.

’I remember at Brandy Hall they were always trying to get eggs or cheese or meat into the young mums suffering the all-day-long sickness,’ he said. ‘It seemed to help once they got past the initial difficulty.’

’Rosie’s mum said much the same,’ Sam replied. ‘I’ve stirred up a nice custard and I’m going to coax it into her one way or another.’

Frodo laughed. ‘You do that, Sam!’ He drained his tea. ‘Well, I’m off to see what Nature’s wrought this day. Should be some glorious colour yet. If the wind keeps on as it did last night, the trees will be bare soon enough.’ That last might have been a mistake. Sam gave him an odd look. Perhaps the rushing he’d heard had not been outside the shutters after all. ‘At least I dreamed a rushing wind,’ he added hastily, to cover his unease. ‘I’ll find out if there was a wind in truth on my morning walk, I suppose.’

’I wouldn’t know,’ Sam said. ‘I slept like the rock before it got pried out of the garden bed.’

’Ah,’ Frodo said briskly, setting down his empty cup. ‘Well then, Sam, I’ll see you after my walk!’

’Yes Mr Frodo,’ Sam said. ‘I’ll have your breakfast laid out for you when you get back. Anything you want in particular?’

’Just as long as it’s hot and plenty!’ Frodo said cheerily, though his stomach turned at the thought. He took his cloak from the peg, threw it around his shoulders, and let himself out with relief, walking briskly until out of sight of the smial, where he stopped to rest and catch his breath. Odd, to be out of breath when he’d barely begun. He decided not to walk down the Hill to the Mill as he often did, for he was not sure whether he’d manage the climb to return to Bag End. Instead, he walked slowly up the road towards Overhill. At least it would be downhill all the way home.

Reaching the crown of the Hill, he paused. The Shire spread out on all sides dressed in her autumn finery. The fields were mostly stubble now, golden-brown in the morning light. The trees still bore many of their leaves, and a carpet of gold spread about their feet. Washing already flapped on lines, spots of bright colour in the landscape. Frodo watched a flock of sheep moving along the road far below him; a farmer’s cart piled high with colourful produce stopped to let them flow around it, a brown-orange-green-gold island in a sea of white. He heard the tinkle of a cowbell as a hobbit lad drove the neighbour’s cows to fresh pasture, and the harsh caw of a crow.

Frodo took a deep breath of the fresh crisp air, seasoned with woodsmoke and the smell of burning leaves. How he loved the Shire, in all her moods and seasons. At moments like this, he was glad that they hadn’t died upon that Mountain after the Quest was completed. Perhaps he’d failed, ultimately, but the Quest had not failed. The Ring had gone into the Fire (he felt a twinge of loss and firmly pushed it down) and the Shire remained.

He sank down on a handy boulder a little ways from the road. He didn’t feel like walking any further this day. Pulling his cloak more securely about himself, he sat and drank in the beauty around him, finding solace for his weary heart even as the jewel clenched in his fist drove the last of the shadows from his conscious thought.

When it was nearly time for second breakfast, Frodo rose, feeling stiff from sitting so long in the chill of the morning, on cold hard rock in the bargain. He shook his head at himself, saying, ‘You’ll catch your death!’ in perfect imitation of one of the old aunties at Brandy Hall. The opposite was true; he felt much better than he had upon arising. He retraced his steps down the Hill, and the odd breathless feeling he’d had earlier did not return. Of course, there was much less effort going down the Hill than ascending, and there was not far to go to reach Bag End, but still, he entered the smial feeling fresh and rejuvenated.

’Did you have a good walk?’ Sam said, turning from the oven with a pan of freshly-baked breakfast buns.

’I did indeed, Sam,’ Frodo said, putting his walking stick in the stand and hanging his cloak. ‘It’s a glorious autumn day! You ought to take Rosie out for a walk; there is something marvellous about the air this morning!’ Sam nodded and smiled, and Frodo was glad to see the last traces of worry wiped away.

Sitting down to breakfast with Freddy, Frodo maintained a casual mien, though he felt not at all like eating. Each time he felt Freddy’s eye upon him, he’d smile and force himself to take another bite, washing the tasteless food down with flavourless tea that had the mercy of being hot at least. The cousins chatted about things of little consequence as Sam was in and out of the room, refreshing the teapot and making sure the food was hot and plentiful. Once he’d cleared away and was busy at washing-up in the kitchen, Freddy and Frodo got out the papers that Freddy had worked on the previous day and began to go over them.

They were finished by the time elevenses were served, cooked by the energetic Mrs Stubbletoes from Number Five, and Frodo took himself off for a ride on brown Strider. He never ate elevenses, after all, odd though that might be for a hobbit. Sam was used to his master’s eccentricities, but Mrs Stubbletoes was a bit startled, not to say put out. Freddy ate enough for two in an effort to pacify her.

Frodo and Freddy shared the midday meal. Once again, Frodo forced himself to eat. He felt Freddy’s quizzical eye on him more than once though Frodo kept his attention on the food, keeping to safe comments such as the lightness of the roasted taters and the juiciness of the meat.

’Are you well, cousin?’ Freddy said at one point, out of the blue, and Frodo laughed in surprise.

’Couldn’t be better!’ he answered cheerily. ‘However, the day’s a-wasting, and the story won’t write itself! I had better shut myself up and get back to work!’ He rose and threw down his serviette.

’Will there be anything else, Mr Baggins?’ Mrs Stubbletoes said, entering with more taters to replenish the serving plate.

’No, I couldn’t eat another bite!’ Frodo said truthfully, patting his stomach. He only hoped he’d be able to retain what he’d forced down. Though retching was to be expected of Rosie at this time of her life, it would generate unwanted concern were Frodo to exhibit the same symptoms. ‘Excellent meal, Mrs Stubbletoes, top-notch!’ Looking back to his cousin, he said, ‘Have a good nap, Fredegar, and I’ll see you on the morrow.’

He’d take tea and supper in the study, and if he didn’t eat much, well, that was nothing out of the ordinary. Writing gave him a wonderful excuse. Sitting in the chair, he pulled out a fresh sheet of foolscap and picked up his pen, but the trembling in his fingers forced him to lay it down again. Burying his head in his hands, he allowed himself to sink back into the unthinking state he’d achieved the previous day when the Shadow had begun to tighten about him, and there he remained until the tap on the door that meant teatime.

’Come!’ he forced out, managing to sound abstracted and deep in thought. Seizing his pen, he dipped it and was busily writing when Sam entered with the tea tray.

‘Tea and biscuits, Mr Frodo,’ he said cheerily.

Frodo waved the quill to an empty spot on the desk, as he usually did, and grunted. Sam laid down the tray, poured out the cup, put it at Frodo’s elbow, and touched his master on the shoulder.

’Eh? What? Did you want something, Sam?’ Frodo said, looking up, giving a most convincing performance of having been interrupted in the midst of a sentence.

’Yes,’ Sam said. ‘I want you to take at least a sip of this tea before you forget it altogether and leave it to go cold on the desk.’

Frodo chuckled. ‘You and Rosie know me too well,’ he said.

’Indeed we do,’ Sam agreed, but he waited. Heaving a sigh, Frodo put the pen down and took up the cup. Once again, he tasted nothing, but at least the beverage was hot and stimulating. He sipped and set the cup down. ‘Have a bit more,’ Sam said.

’I’ll float away!’ Frodo joked, but he took up the cup again.

’How is the work coming?’ Sam said. ‘Do you need any help?’

’No, I’m working on the part about Cormallen, after we awakened, so I remember everything quite well,’ Frodo said. ‘I thought I’d skip over some of the darker stuff this day; the sun is much too bright to think on gloomy things!’

’A fine idea, Mr Frodo,’ Sam said, taking up the teapot to freshen his cup. ‘Well then, just call if you need anything.’

’Be sure that I will,’ Frodo said. He waited until Sam had let himself out, waited quite a bit longer as a matter of fact, in case the gardener had a sudden thought and opened the study door again to voice it. Once he was sure he would not be disturbed until supper time, Frodo laid his pen gently down and once again buried his face in his hands.

Chapter 56. Thoughts of the Future

Frodo awakened the next morning feeling more like himself. He’d suffered no dark dreams in the night, had slept peacefully, as a matter of fact, which he had not expected. His fingers caressed Arwen’s gift. He thought about Strider—Elessar now, King in Gondor. Perhaps he’d make a trip to Gondor one of these days... a holiday excursion. He laughed aloud; the farthest a hobbit of Bywater might go on holiday was to Southfarthing for the new wine celebration, and that was considered a great journey! Yes, Frodo decided, as soon as he finished writing the history of hobbits in the War of the Ring, he’d go to Gondor. Perhaps he’d invite Pip to come along, get the lad out from under his father’s thumb for another year or two. Merry was growing stronger, he thought, and if he could not come along, yet he might be able to spare Pippin. The tween was not so angry as he had been, but could use more distance from Paladin, in Frodo's opinion.

He stretched luxuriously, feeling none of the stiffness of the day before. These anniversaries were difficult, he mused, but they were getting better, or he was stronger, better able to fight. Soft bedding, regular meals, fresh air and exercise, and keeping busy—all these were helping him keep the darkness at bay. It helped to have Sam and Rosie living with him. The two of them were invariably singing or laughing; Rosie danced through the days. She wasn’t doing quite as much dancing these days, but of course, in a few months a babe would grace Bag End with new life and new hope.

At second breakfast, Freddy fixed Frodo with a piercing gaze. ‘How are you, cousin?’ he asked.

Frodo laughed. ‘I might ask you the same!’ he said. ‘It’s a marvellous day!’ He laughed again at Freddy’s expression. Rain had arrived in the night, and the out-of-doors was dripping in the mist of a grey dawn.

’Either you’re better than you were yesterday, or you’ve lost your wits,’ Freddy said acerbically, pouring cream over his baked apple. He held his spoon in the air, stopping to inhale the fragrance of apples and cinnamon. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘That Samwise is a wonder. Squashes overlarge arachnids and bakes apples to perfection.’

’Ah you’ve got to Shelob in the notes, then,’ Frodo said, pouring cream over his own apple and digging in with his spoon.

’Mmmm,’ Freddy said, both in appreciation of the apple and answer to the question. After washing down the morsel with a swig of tea, he repeated his first question. ‘How are you, Frodo?’

’I am well,’ Frodo said, his attention on his breakfast. Something about the quality of Freddy’s silence struck him and he looked up to see his cousin looking stern.

’You’ve never been able to lie convincingly, cousin, so do not start now,’ Freddy said severely, wagging his spoon at Frodo.

’All right, then, I’m better,’ Frodo said. ‘Does that suit?’ He took another bite and said through a mouthful. ‘I was a little “off” the other day, but it’s passed. But I might ask the same. You look a bit tired this morning, Freddy. How are you?’

’Well enough,’ Freddy said. He had relaxed again, Frodo saw, and the two cousins made pleasant conversation for the rest of the meal.

Sitting down at his desk after sharing midday dinner with Freddy, Frodo noticed that his papers were not in the same order as he’d left them. He made a mental note to mention it to Samwise. Rosie knew better than to disturb his desk when she dusted the study, but young Daisy Stubbletoes wouldn’t know unless she’d been specifically instructed.

What should he do this day? Copy the rewritten material into the Red Book, or tackle something new? His eye was caught by the description of Cormallen he’d written out when fighting off the darkness; reading it over, he crumpled the paper and tossed it towards the large waste-paper basket in the corner. He could do better than that. Taking out a fresh sheet, he dipped his pen and was soon lost in the memory of deafening cheers and the echoes of Praise them with great praise!

The writing went so well that by the time Samwise came in with his tea, Frodo had filled several sheets and greeted the gardener cheerfully. ‘Stop, Samwise, and read these over,’ he said. ‘You don’t think I’ve over-exaggerated things, do you?’

Sam sat down obediently and took up the papers while Frodo sipped his tea and slathered butter and marmalade on the accompanying crumpets. He read slowly, a furrow in his brow as he concentrated. Frodo had finished his meal and wiped his fingers; actually, he had just poured out a third cup of tea when Sam put the papers down and sighed.

’Well?’ Frodo asked.

’Not exaggerated at all, Mr Frodo,’ Sam said with a smile. ‘Rather understated, in my opinion.’ He shook his head with a grin. ‘Those Men! I thought I’d go deaf from the shouting and cheering—they made a thunder with their voices. And the swords, glittering in the light of the Sun, the bright colours of the banners, the shining armour...’

’It went on forever, or seemed to,’ Frodo said, his eyes faraway. ‘And Strider, looking so... kingly’s the only word I can think of, but it’s not enough of a word to describe him.’

’And the feast!’ Sam said. ‘And to think we hobbits pride ourselves on our vittles! Never have I eaten such fare as we had that day.’ He grew thoughtful. ‘Still,’ he said practically. ‘One couldn’t eat that way every day, or there’d be no wonder to look back on.’

’No indeed!’ Frodo laughed, and sipped his tea as Sam went back to reading.

’You ought to put in the part about Gimli and the hobbit’s foot,’ Sam said suddenly. ‘Young Mr Pippin would have been lost that day, had Gimli not known the look of a hobbit’s foot, as he said himself.’

’You’re right, Sam,’ Frodo said, taking that page back and making a note in the margin. ‘Is there anything else?’ he asked.

Sam looked through the papers again and shook his head. ‘No Mr Frodo, you’ve done a remarkable job of capturing it on paper. I never could.’

’Don’t sell yourself short, Sam. I’ve heard you spinning tales for Rosie about the Golden Wood and the White City.’ Frodo put his cup down and pulled his chair back to the desk. ‘Thank you, Sam! Delicious crumpets—as good as Rosie's!’

’Rosie made them,’ Sam said, picking up the tray. ‘She feels a bit better this time of day, and if she cooks up something for teatime it keeps her from fretting about the work she’s not doing.’

’Ah then, give her my compliments,’ Frodo said. He was already writing again, and Sam quietly let himself out of the study without further comment.

Freddy was not at the noontide meal the next day when Frodo returned from his ride on brown Strider. At his questioning look, Sam said, ‘He said he had something to do, Mr Frodo, and asked me to make up some bread and cheese and save him a plate of stew for later.’

’Something to do?’ Frodo said, but Sam couldn’t tell him any more than that.

Entering the study after the meal, he stopped short to see his cousin sitting at the desk. ‘Freddy?’ he said. ‘What are you doing?’

Freddy looked up. ‘Ah Frodo,’ he said. ‘Is dinner over already? Come in.’

Frodo crossed to sit in the chair beside the desk, bemused at being invited into his own study.

Freddy said, ‘It’s taken me some time to find what I was looking for—I assume you burned the notes I went over when you copied the material into the Red Book.’

’Yes, there’s less confusion that way,’ Frodo said. ‘Once I don’t need the notes anymore I destroy them.’

’Ah,’ Freddy said, opening the Red Book to a page he’d marked. He began to read. “ ‘I should say,’ answered Strider, ‘that they stood for G3, and were a sign that Gandalf was here on October the third: that is three days ago now.’ ” ’ He looked up to catch Frodo’s eye. ‘That was two years ago,’ he said.

Frodo nodded, wondering where Freddy was going with this.

’I asked Samwise if you were ill on October the sixth, the last,’ Freddy said. ‘He had to think back, but remembered at last that you crossed the Ford of Bruinen that day, on your return journey, and that you admitted to Gandalf that you were in pain.’

’Sam heard that?’ Frodo said in astonishment. ‘That was a private conversation.’

’It is why he made such an excellent spy,’ Freddy said with a faint smile. ‘He has the hearing of a bat.’ He straightened. ‘When I read the notes on Shelob, I began to understand.’

’Understand what?’ Frodo said.

’You were ill this past March, on the thirteenth to be exact,’ Freddy said, putting his fingertips together and tapping his lips.

’Let us be exact,’ Frodo said dryly.

Freddy put his hands down on the desk and leaned forward. ‘You encountered Shelob on that date, a year previously.’ He paused to scrutinise Frodo. ‘What is it about anniversaries?’

Frodo nodded. ‘You have the right of it,’ he said slowly. ‘There is some power to dates. Why do we celebrate Yule? And Lithe? And birthdays?’

’Don’t change the subject,’ Freddy said.

’I’m not,’ Frodo answered. ‘There is some power to anniversaries. Ah, Freddy, you know how you must fight the Voice of Saruman, how he haunts your thoughts though he’s been dead for nearly a year now.’

’Yes,’ Freddy said soberly. ‘This is true.’

’I have much the same struggle with my own dark memories,’ Frodo said. ‘They are like dogs, always sniffing at my heels.’ This was not something he’d tell anyone else—he had told only Merry, who had his own continuing fight—but he thought Freddy of all hobbits would understand.

’Yes,’ Freddy said.

’But I’m getting stronger,’ Frodo went on. ‘This year was better than last. I won’t say it was easier—but I’m stronger than I was. I expect that when the thirteenth of March rolls around once more, I will not be as affected as I was this year.’

’Each year a little better?’ Freddy said.

’Better than each year being a little worse, wouldn’t you say?’ Frodo answered lightly.

’The darkness is still there, this very day, but you are able to fight it,’ Freddy said, more statement than question.

’Saruman’s Voice is still there, whispering, but you are able to ignore it,’ Frodo countered.

Freddy gave him a long look, then rose from the desk. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I will not fear for you, cousin. You seem to have the fight well in hand.’

’My thanks,’ Frodo said dryly.

’Don’t mention it,’ Freddy said. ‘I must return to Bridgefields next week.’

’Bridgefields!’ Frodo said. ‘But—‘

Freddy put up a hand to stop him. ‘I won’t be staying at Budge Hall,’ he said. ‘As a matter of fact, I don’t know if I will ever darken its door again. My father has built a new hole for me, not far from the Hall. The hole is new, the furnishings are new, there is nothing to remind me of “home”.’

’But—‘ Frodo said again.

’I will spend a week there, then travel to Buckland with the Brandybucks, who are at present visiting my parents,’ Freddy continued. ‘If the Brandybucks see a terrible change, I will have to resign myself to living in exile from my family and home for the rest of my life.’

’Freddy,’ Frodo began.

’I have plenty of relations to fall back on,’ Freddy said firmly. ‘The Tooks of the Great Smials, the Boffins in Waymeet, the Travellers at Crickhollow—marvellous parties, I hear—the Brandybucks at Brandy Hall...’

’The Bagginses of Bag End,’ Frodo said.

’Why yes, Bag End, I’d nearly forgotten,’ Freddy said. ‘D’you suppose old cousin Frodo would allow me to sponge off him for a time?’

’I’d say there’s an excellent chance,’ Frodo said with a smile.

Chapter 57. Changes and Plans

 ‘So, cousin, are there any other anniversaries I need to be aware of?’ Freddy asked. It was his last morning in Bag End. His father had arrived two days previous with the family coach to fetch him away, but Frodo had persuaded Odovacar to stay over a day before making the two-day journey back to Bridgefields.

 ‘Anniversaries?’ Odovacar said, helping himself to more sausages.

Frodo made a great show of thinking. ‘There’s May the First,’ he said finally. ‘Sam and Rosie’s anniversary. Other than that one, and the others we’ve already discussed, I cannot think of any.’

 ‘Ah,’ Freddy said with a nod. ‘But how can I remember that day? I’d send flowers from the hothouse, but Sammy’s will undoubtedly be larger and smell sweeter. What do you give the gardener who grows everything?’

 ‘I’m sure you’ll think of something,’ Frodo said. ‘You always do.’ He sipped at his tea. ‘Are you sure I cannot persuade you to stay longer?’ Though he would not say it, he worried about his cousin’s return to Bridgefields.

 ‘No,’ Freddy said, shaking his head. ‘Remembering Day is approaching, and I must be there. Finch’s oldest son, Jay, fell to a ruffian’s arrow as you know.’

 ‘He was a brave lad,’ Odovacar said. ‘All of you were. The hobbits of Bridgefields would have starved without your efforts, and they shall never forget.’

 ‘Let us hope not,’ Frodo said. ‘That is why I am writing it all down.’

 ‘And I am helping,’ Freddy said importantly. ‘Spelling, and usage, and clever turns of phrase, and all that. History can be dull as ditchwater, but between us Frodo and I will make it something to remember.’ He fixed Frodo with a stern eye. ‘Now remember, cousin, “travelling” has two Ls in it; remember that and you’ll go far.’

 ‘As does “travellers”;, yes I remember,’ Frodo sighed. ‘You’ve told me often enough.’

 ‘You’ve been working on your book for nearly a year now,’ Odovacar said. ‘What more needs to be done?’

 ‘Ah but Bilbo worked on it for a lifetime—you think I ought to finish in a matter of mere months?’ Frodo said.

 ‘Of course!’ Freddy said. ‘With my help, you ought to be able to finish it off quite well.’

 ‘You’re a good whip, Freddy,’ Frodo said, and to Odovacar added, ‘He’s always saying, “Well I’ve finished that bit, what more do you have for me?” ’

 ‘Indeed,’ Freddy said. ‘I have finished all you’ve written thus far. I’d say the notes are ready to copy into the Red Book but for one thing.’

 ‘And what is that?’ Frodo said.

 ‘In the part about Cormallen,’ Freddy said. ‘Lovely description, by the way, shouting and cheering and feasting and all. Makes me wish all over again I’d gone with you.’

 ‘Cormallen?’ Odo said, mystified. ‘Who is he?’

 ‘Cormallen is a place, not a person,’ Freddy said dismissively. ‘I’ll tell you all about it on the journey home. I think you’ll find cousin Frodo’s journey quite riveting—I know I did.’

 ‘So what is lacking?’ Frodo persisted.

 ‘You have Gimli—he’s a dwarf,’ Freddy said in aside to his father, ‘spouting some nonsense about a hobbit’s foot, and heaving a troll—a troll, mind!—off our little cousin.’

 ‘A troll!’ Odovacar exclaimed. Bilbo had dined enough times at Budge Hall, recounting his experience with trolls, for the Bolger to wonder how young Pip had ever survived to return to the Shire.

 ‘Yes, he stabbed it as it sought to slay the Man who stood beside him,’ Frodo said, ‘and it fell upon him.’

 ‘That must be quite a story,’ Odo said.

 ‘My point exactly,’ Freddy nodded, draining his teacup and placing it back on the saucer, shaking his head when Sam offered to refill it. ‘You’ve finished yours and Sam’s story, from the start all the way to Cormallen, but after the breaking of the Fellowship there’s no hint of what happened to Merry and Pippin.’

 ‘You’ve finished our story?’ Sam said in astonishment. ‘Shelob, and the Crack of Doom, and all?’

 ‘Yes Sam,’ Frodo said. ‘It’s all done, gone over, corrected, and ready to copy into the Red Book.’

 ‘Well before you do that, you had better fill in Merry and Pippin’s story,’ Freddy said sternly, ‘or you’ve told only half the tale!’ He quoted, ‘ “But I can see there’s more tales to tell than ours.” ’ He looked to Samwise. ‘Your own words, my good gardener.’

 ‘My words!’ Sam said, shaking his head. He still had trouble believing he’d been put into a book, even though he’d read many of the pages with his own eyes.

 ‘It is a good thing you’ve only copied into the Red Book the part of the story as far as the breaking of the Fellowship,’ Freddy said. ‘That’s a good place to stop, take a deep breath, lift your head and look around.’ Sam quietly picked up the empty platter that had held sausages and left the room.

There was a silence as Odovacar and Frodo applied themselves to their seconds. Freddy had finished a plateful and sat back, replete, letting Frodo think on his suggestion.

 ‘Look up from the path I trod, you mean,’ Frodo said at last. He took a deep breath. ‘I heard much of their tale on the long journey home, sitting about the campfire, and more when we were at Rivendell telling Bilbo about our adventures, but I wonder if I could get it all down properly, at that!’

 ‘Ask them!’ Freddy said promptly. ‘They visit you often enough. Make them sing for their supper!’

 ‘I hate to make them relive any of that,’ Frodo said slowly.

 ‘Sammy,’ Freddy said. Samwise had just entered with another platter of sausages.

 ‘Yes Mr Freddy?’

 ‘Sam-full-wise, for I refuse to say “Samwise”, has it been painful for you to relive the Quest, as Mr Frodo’s been writing it down?’ Freddy said. ‘I know there are parts you had to tell him, for he didn’t remember them himself, some very nasty parts to put it mildly.’

 ‘I can see our journey home will not be a boring one,’ Odovacar said as Sam stopped to think.

 ‘It has not been easy, Mr Freddy,’ Sam said, ‘but I think it’s been needful. This story oughtn’t be forgotten, you know. It’ll be one o’ the Great Tales one day, and we who lived it are the only ones to make sure the facts are set down right and proper.’

 ‘You see, cousin?’ Freddy said meaningfully. ‘Sam here lived through the worst I can imagine, as did you, and yet he thinks it worth writing down, as you must or why would you have put all this work in? Would you do your cousins any less honour?’

 ‘Ah, Freddy, you’re right,’ Frodo said, ‘though it grieves me to remind them of all they went through.’

 ‘I think they would remember without your help,’ Freddy said quietly.

 ‘You’re right,’ Frodo said again. ‘I will write what Sam and I can remember, and have them fill in the rest.’

 ‘I will look forward to reading it,’ Freddy said. ‘Since they will be passing by Budgeford on their way to and from Bag End, they can serve as messengers!’

 ‘You’ll continue to correct my spelling?’ Frodo chuckled.

 ‘But of course!’ Freddy said. ‘Who better? And besides, it will give me something to do with my time.’ He smiled at Odovacar. ‘Since Uncle Rudi has become my father’s heir, I am freed of all sorts of tiresome responsibilities.’

 ‘I’m sure Rudi would be happy to share the load,’ Odo said, returning Freddy’s smile.

 ‘Ah,’ Freddy said. ‘I’m afraid I will be otherwise engaged. Cousin Frodo’s writing requires much work, you know.’

 ‘Perhaps you ought to write the story, then, cousin,’ Frodo said.

 ‘No, writing is much too much work!’ Freddy said. ‘You may do all the perspiring, Frodo, and I shall add polish and rub gently to bring out the grain.’

 ‘Very kind, I’m sure,’ Frodo said.

Odo finished his last sausage and declined another cup of tea. ‘Excellent breakfast, Sam,’ he said. ‘Thank you, but we really ought to take our leave. I imagine Sandy has the ponies hitched and ready by this time.’

 ‘Yes sir, Master Bolger, he does indeed,’ Sam said. The coachhobbit had breakfasted earlier with him in the kitchen. ‘The coach is loaded, the ponies are hitched, and he is ready to depart whenever you are, sir.’

 ‘Very well,’ Odo said, rising from the table.

 ‘I will see you in March, Frodo,’ Freddy said, throwing down his own serviette, rising and embracing his cousin.

 ‘March?’ Frodo said.

 ‘If not before,’ Freddy answered, releasing him. ‘Your pantry ought to have recovered from my depredations by then, I figure.’

 ‘I don’t know,’ Frodo said. ‘The way Pippin eats, it may still be suffering from shock by your next visit.’

 ‘Just keep those chapters coming and I won’t complain,’ Freddy said. ‘Take good care of your master for me, Sammy!’

 ‘I will, Mr Freddy,’ Sam said.

 ‘I’ve no doubt,’ Freddy answered.

Chapter 58. Nearly the Last Pause

Samwise stopped reading and took a deep breath. The log on the fire cracked and sent a shower of sparks upward as it split. Fastred rose from his seat, put a poker to good use, and added another log. He glanced over Sam’s shoulder.

’The handwriting changes,’ he said.

’Yes,’ Sam sighed. ‘That’s the last of what Mr Frodo wrote, before he misplaced these pages. The rest was finished by another hand.’

’Whose? Yours?’ Elanor asked.

Her father smiled at her. ‘A little of it,’ he said. ‘But someone else did a bit of writing, to finish the story. See if you can guess.’

’Master Merry!’ Elfstan guessed. ‘He likes to write. He wrote all those books on herb-lore and history...’

’That would be a good guess,’ Sam said, ‘but listen to the last few chapters before you offer an opinion.’ He looked to Elanor. ‘There’s not much left,’ he said. ‘We ought to finish before the middle night, unless you want to send them off to bed now and finish on the morrow.’

There was a clamour of pleas from the young hobbits while a glance passed between Fastred and Elanor. She smiled and said, ‘I don’t think we ought to stay up into the middle night, Dad.’

A disappointed chorus greeted her words, dying down at Fastred’s stern look.

’Can you stay over one more day?’ he asked Rosie and Leotred.

’We would hate to miss the end of the story!’ Rose said with a look at her husband.

’One more day,’ he agreed.

’Very well,’ Sam said. ‘We’ll finish on the morrow.’

Chapter 59. A Visit to Bag End

Freddy departed Budgeford on a bright, brisk spring day. He was so much improved from the winterlong rest and devoted care that he elected to ride rather than drive the two-day journey to Hobbiton. His parents came to the small but luxuriously appointed “Midge Hall” to breakfast with their son and bid him farewell.

’So, off to Hobbiton,’ Odovacar said. ‘Do you think it wise to impose upon Frodo at this time?’ Rosie Gamgee was close to the end of her confinement. Surely Samwise would be preoccupied with his wife. It seemed hardly polite to impose the extra burden of guests upon him at this time.

’I can find my way around a kitchen,’ Freddy said complacently, ‘and Budgie here,’ he gave his faithful companion a nudge, ‘excels at cookery as much as he does at healing.’ Budgie had finished his apprenticeship under his father in the months that Freddy spent in Bywater and Hobbiton, and he had moved into Midge Hall to attend Freddy full time when the latter returned to Bridgefields.

’My wife will certainly appreciate not having us underfoot,’ Budgie said, finishing his cup of tea and pushing himself back from the table. ‘Midge Hall will be a whirlwind of spring cleaning ere we’ve ridden through the gates.’

’You have the right of it!’ Mrs Smallfoot said, setting her own cup down and rising from her chair. ‘I’ll just make sure that Cook has packed up a few bites for you two, in case you grow peckish between inns.’ She’d grown used to dining with the gentry, though it had given her a turn at first. Budgie is as close to me as any brother might be, Freddy had said at the wedding. You’ll be more sister than holekeeper, Viola—may I call you Viola?

The sky was bright blue with fleecy clouds playing “I hide and you seek me” with the Sun; the emerging Sun turned the morning grass to brilliant green jewelled with the morning dew, and wild primroses peeped shyly from the verdure. The ponies were infected by the freshness of the wind, and Freddy and Budgie sang as the road disappeared beneath the prancing hoofs.

’Just put us in mail shirts and we could cadge a free meal at the next farm,’ Freddy said at the end of a song. ‘The Travellers have nothing on us!’

’Yes, and you could turn a few pretty heads,’ Budgie said with a sidelong glance. ‘Has Melilot Brandybuck found a husband yet?’ It was great satisfaction to him to see Mr Freddy looking more like himself each day.

Freddy laughed. ‘Marrying me off already, and here I’m fresh from the deathbed!’ he said. ‘That’s the problem with you newlyweds; you think the condition ought to be universal!’ He sobered. ‘D’you supposed Melilot would be content to marry a nobody with nothing?’ Though his health was not as precarious as it had been, Finch and Budgie had decreed that he would never be up to the strain of daily business. Rudivacar continued as Odo’s heir, taking on more of the running of the Quarry and the mines as time passed.

’If she were to tire of your cramped little hovel, you might always move into Brandy Hall as Drogo Baggins did eventually,’ Budgie replied. ‘Just so long as you had the sense to stay out of boats...’

’Ah well, it’s probably all moot anyhow,’ Freddy said. ‘I cannot imagine why Mellie’s not married yet.’

’Perhaps she got used to the idea of marrying you,’ Budgie said. ‘The dress was made, the flowers ordered, the feast arranged, and what do you do? Get yourself thrown in the Lockholes.’

’Careless of me,’ Freddy said dismissively, and they rode on in silence to the next inn, where they stopped for elevenses before taking up the journey once more. They stayed overnight at an inn about halfway to Bywater. The next day’s ride was equally pleasant, and just before four o’clock they rode up before Bag End.

’Hail and well met!’ Frodo said, rising from the bench before the smial. He was enjoying the bright spring sunshine. ‘Tea is laid in the parlour. Your timing is, as ever, impeccable.’

’Of course it is!’ Freddy laughed, getting down from his pony to embrace his cousin. Frodo was thinner than he remembered, and looked tired. ‘But you didn’t need to put Sam and Rosie out! I’d planned to take you to the Ivy Bush for tea.’

’Put them out I did indeed!’ Frodo said. ‘I gave them the week off, I’ll have you know, and sent them to the farm for a bit of cosseting. Rosie’s not sleeping well these days, and so of course Sam isn’t either.’

’You didn’t tell them you were having visitors?’ Freddy laughed.

’Of course not!’ Frodo said stoutly. ‘They’d never have agreed to go! The last thing they needed was the worry of caring for guests.’ He looked sternly at Freddy from under his eyebrows. ‘Your timing...’

’We’ve already established my timing,’ Freddy said smoothly. ‘But I fear Sam and Rose will be distressed when they find we’re baching it at Bag End while they’re living in the lap of luxury.’

’You may choose to stay at the farm instead,’ Frodo said nonchalantly. ‘Mrs Cotton did say you were welcome at any time.’

’Hah,’ Freddy said. ‘And miss this golden opportunity to live the simple life once more, unencumbered by servants and well-meaning relatives?’ He glanced from Frodo to Budgie. ‘Present company excepted.’

Budgie laughed. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I will be “brother” more than healer this week, if that is the way the wind is blowing. Or is that encompassed by “well-meaning relatives”?’

’We’ll make allowances,’ Frodo said smoothly. ‘Come in; the kettle has just begun to whistle.’ Indeed the high-pitched sound came clearly through the open kitchen window.

Frodo had laid a simple but filling tea. The cousins did the washing up while Budgie took himself off for a walk, leaving them to talk freely.

’How goes the fight?’ Freddy asked.

’It goes,’ Frodo said. His cousin nodded.

’You look tired,’ he said bluntly. ‘Are you sleeping well?’

’Well enough,’ Frodo said. ‘I’ve been writing much, you know.’

’Yes, Merry and Pippin had been quite busy playing at post,’ Freddy said. ‘I brought the latest batch back with me, and expect you have more?’

’That’s the rub,’ Frodo said. ‘I had quite a nice batch for you, but cannot put my hands on it! I was up very late, as a matter of fact, looking for the dratted papers.’

’Ah well,’ Freddy soothed. ‘They’ll turn up. Just you wait until Rosie has this babe, and recovers... she’ll turn the study downside-up very nicely, and the papers will fall out of wherever it is they’re hiding.’

Frodo nodded gloomily.

Freddy went on. ‘In the meantime, there’s quite a bit of material for you to copy into the Red Book. I take it you’ve been making notes from conversations with Merry and Pippin, and writing draughts all the winter through.’

Frodo brightened a bit. ‘This is true,’ he said. ‘There is all the copy-work to get through; that’ll take weeks if not months! Surely the missing draughts will come to light in that time.’

Budgie returned from his walk in time to bake a loaf of quick bread and scramble some eggs for a simple supper. Sitting down at the kitchen table, he waited until the cousins had started on their seconds before he got down to business. ‘Tomorrow’s the day, is it not?’

Frodo looked up in surprise, but Freddy nodded. ‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘That’s why we’re here,’ he reminded Frodo.

’You brought your personal healer for my benefit?’ Frodo said dryly.

’No, but he’ll be a help if you start fighting imaginary spiders,’ Freddy said.

’Yes, imaginary spiders interest me immensely,’ Budgie agreed, buttering another piece of bread.

’Is that what I did the last time?’ Frodo said in astonishment. ‘Farmer Cotton never mentioned that.’

’Probably slipped his mind,’ Freddy said, then chuckled.

’You’re having me on!’ Frodo said suddenly.

’Yes I am,’ Freddy confessed, ‘but do try to be more interesting than you were last time, cousin. All you did was lie like a stone, clutching that jewel of yours.’

’I’ll do my best,’ Frodo said.

***

The next morning, Freddy and Budgie found Frodo lying insensible on his bed, clutching the white jewel. Budgie examined him as gently as he could. ‘His heart is racing as if he’s just run down the Hill and back,’ he said. ‘Mr Baggins? Can you hear me?’

’It is gone,’ Frodo breathed. ‘All gone,’ he added.

’Yes I know, and all is dark and empty,’ Freddy said in a matter-of-fact tone, trying to reach his cousin. ‘Come, Frodo, we have some tea for you.’

Budgie sat him up, and Freddy coaxed him to sip the heavily sweetened beverage until it was gone. ‘D’you think we can get him to eat something?’ he asked the healer.

Budgie had closed his hand over Frodo’s wrist once more and was shaking his head. ‘I do not like this,’ he said. ‘Did his heart labour so, the last time?’

’I hadn’t the wit to call in a healer,’ Freddy said slowly. ‘In truth, I didn’t want him poked and prodded, and draughts forced down him as if he were a sick pony.’ He raised his voice slightly. ‘Frodo, are you with us?’

There was a long silence, and then Frodo breathed, ‘Freddy?’

’That’s right, cousin, I’m here,’ Freddy said. ‘Good, he knows me at least,’ he said to Budgie. ’That’s an improvement over the last time. Perhaps these spells will get better over time, as he predicted.’

’Keep talking to him,’ Budgie said, getting up. ‘I’ll see what I can stir up for breakfast.’

They took turns talking to Frodo, nagging him to eat and drink (food is the hobbit’s answer to most of the world’s ills, after all), singing songs, keeping him warm and encouraging him. ‘It’s a good thing he sent Sam to the farm,’ Freddy said. ‘He’d be fit to be tied with Rose so close to her time, and Frodo seeming so ill.’

’He was himself the next day?’ Budgie asked.

’Nearly so,’ Freddy replied. ‘It took him a week or two to recover completely, but he dissembled so well I don’t think the Cottons noticed anything after he got up again.’

Mid-afternoon, the visitors were startled to hear Sam’s voice in the kitchen. ‘Mr Frodo?’

’I’ll go,’ Freddy said. He patted Frodo on the arm. ‘You had better brace yourself up, cousin, or your secret will be discovered.’ He rose and went to the kitchen.

’Mr Freddy!’ Sam said in shock. ‘When did you get here?’

’Yesterday,’ Freddy said. ‘I had a few questions on the writing and I really needed to talk to my cousin face-to-face. It is ever so much faster than sending letters back and forth, you know.’

’But—‘ Sam said in consternation. ‘He should have let us know! Rosie and I are down at the farm, and—‘

’Yes, yes,’ Freddy said dismissively. ‘We’ve managed not to starve to death in the meantime. Actually it’s been rather peaceful, and I’m sure your Rosie could use the holiday. Don’t you worry about us, Sammy, we’ll be fine.’

’But—‘ Sam said again, hardly reassured.

’Samwise,’ Frodo said from the door. He was dressed, and on his feet, though Budgie hovered at his elbow.

’Mr Frodo, just let me send word to the Cottons and I’ll be back to get you a proper tea,’ Sam said.

’No need,’ Frodo said with a smile, though his face was pale and his eyes shadowed. Thankfully Sam was too flustered to notice. ‘My cousin and I are quite comfortable. You go back to Rosie, enjoy your holiday. We’ll probably be down to see the Cottons on the morrow.’

’Yes, I’m still exhausted from the journey,’ Freddy said smoothly as he allowed himself to wilt slightly, ‘but by the morrow I’ll have rested sufficiently, I’m sure.’

’Very well,’ Sam said doubtfully. What he really wanted to do was get back to his work, but Mr Frodo evidently wanted some private time with his cousin, who must be ill indeed to be travelling with a healer. ‘If you’re quite sure, Mr Frodo.’

’Quite sure,’ Frodo said.

’Mrs Cotton will probably want to invite you to come to dinner,’ Sam said.

’Undoubtedly,’ Freddy said. ‘Tell her I am looking forward to her marvellous cooking once more.’

’I will,’ Sam said.

’Was there anything else you needed, Sam?’ Freddy asked, affecting to catch his balance by grasping at Samwise's arm, all the while deftly steering him towards the door.

’No, I just came to check to see how Mr Frodo is doing,’ Sam said.

’As well as can be expected,’ Freddy said honestly. ‘I always unsettle him so, you know. Keeps him on his toes.’

’We will see you on the morrow, Sam,’ Frodo said as the gardener turned at the door.

’Yes Mr Frodo,’ Sam replied.

’I’ll walk you down the Hill,’ Budgie said suddenly, leaving Frodo leaning against the doorway. ‘If you don’t need me, that is, Mr Freddy.’

’I’m sure Frodo can watch over me adequately,’ Freddy said, releasing Sam's arm and leaning against the doorframe. 'Indeed, cousin, I'm all for a nap, I find.' 

’Indeed,’ Frodo said. Sam nodded, and made as if to change his mind, but Budgie crossed to the door and before he knew it, Sam was on his way down the Hill, answering the visitor’s many questions about Bywater’s recovery from the ruffians.

’Come, Frodo,’ Freddy said. ‘I’m exhausted. Let us get you back to bed.’

Chapter 60. The Very Next Morning

The next morning Budgie came whistling down the Hill, through Hobbiton and Bywater and on to the Cotton farm.

’Good morning, all!’ he said cheerily to the Cottons, who were just sitting down to second breakfast.

’Good morning, Budgie,’ Farmer Cotton answered. ‘Welcome! Sit yourself down and join us. Samwise said you’d arrived with Mr Freddy.’

’We’re looking forward to seeing him at dinner,’ Mrs Cotton said.

Budgie allowed his face to fall into sober lines. ‘Ah yes,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid—I’ve come to express Mr Freddy’s regrets, and that he’s not quite up to it yet. I expect he’ll spend much o' the day abed.’

’In bed!’ Rosie Gamgee said, starting up from her chair despite her heavy burden. ‘I ought to—‘

’You ought to sit right back down in that chair and eat!’ Budgie said kindly. ‘I’ve a loverly stew bubbling away up at Bag End, for noontide, and I left Mr Frodo and Mr Freddy jabbering over that-there story the two o’ them are writing down.’ This was the truth, though he’d misled the Cottons and Gamgees somewhat. Frodo was the one in bed, not Freddy.

’Listen to the lad, Rosie; he’s a healer after all,’ Farmer Cotton said, and Rose sat down.

’Perhaps I ought to—’ Sam said.

’It would distress Mr Frodo no end if you cut your holiday short,’ Budgie said stoutly. ‘I can do all the cooking and fetching what’s needed, Sam. You and Rosie enjoy the rest of your week. You’ll have precious little rest after the babe arrives!’

’Would Mr Freddy be well enough to come on the morrow?’ Mrs Cotton asked.

Budgie thought this over. Frodo had shown a marked improvement this morning over yesterday, though he was still distressingly weak to the healer’s way of thinking, and he had no appetite. ‘I’d say, perhaps, the day after,’ he said cautiously.

After the meal was over, Mrs Cotton pressed a freshly-baked pie upon the visitor. ‘You can have it for tea,’ she said. ‘And be sure to give our best to Mr Freddy.’

Inhaling the lingering fragrance in the kitchen, Budgie said, ‘I’m sure this’ll do him no end o' good, Mrs Cotton, and I thank you as well.’

’I’ll walk part way with you,’ Samwise said. The farmer and his sons walked out the door with them, on their way to the barn. It was time for plowing and planting, and there was much to be done before the setting of the sun.

Walking down the lane to Bywater, Sam said, ‘How’s Mr Frodo?’

Budgie said at once, ‘He seems to be glad to have his cousin visiting, and Mr Freddy is just as glad to see him. I left the two o’ them jabbering away, as I said. I think they were delighted to get me out o' the hole and out o' the way so they could get some work done, as a matter of fact!’

’Ah,’ Sam said, and was quiet for a few moments before he spoke again. ‘What’s different about you?’ he finally asked frankly.

’Different?’ Budgie said.

’You’re different,’ he said, ‘than when you came partway down the Hill with me. What is it?’

’You’re the observant one,’ Budgie said with a searching look at Sam. ‘But then Mr Freddy has always spoken of you in the highest terms.’

’Well?’ Sam said.

’It bothers you?’ Budgie said.

’It’s an itch I cannot scratch,’ Sam said.

Budgie nodded. ‘It’s the dress,’ he said. ‘I’ve taken off the waistcoat and rolled up my sleeves.’

Sam looked at him in surprise. ‘You have!’ he said. ‘What a difference it makes! But that’s not all of it...’

’Oh yes,’ Budgie said, ‘I’m more relaxed, like, not standing so straight and proper...’

’Ye-es,’ Sam said slowly, ‘but that’s not all...

’You’re a sharp one, Sam,’ Budgie said. ‘The talk is different as well.’

’That’s it!’ Sam said. ‘When I was up at Bag End, you looked and sounded like... like...’ He stopped, at a loss for words.

’I seemed like one of the gentry, you’re saying,’ Budgie said quietly. ‘Exactly. It’s something my father taught me. Mr Freddy’s not comfortable amongst common hobbits, you know; he’s not free to speak his mind or to be himself. He just doesn’t know any better, and your Mr Frodo’s the same.’

Samwise bristled in defence of his beloved master, but Budgie said, ‘Meaning no disrespect to Mr Frodo, mind, but he’s never been taught any different.’

’What do you mean?’ Sam asked.

’Were I to wear a waistcoat and sleeves with buttoned cuffs and talk fancy at the Cottons', what would they have said about me after I’d gone?’ Budgie said.

’They’d’ve said you were putting on airs,’ Sam said.

’Too true, and they’d be right!’ Budgie said, well pleased with Sam’s perspicuity. ‘Fancy dress and fancy talk don’t cut any ice with Farmer Cotton! Not from a common hobbit, anyhow. He puts up with it from the gentry, for it’s what he’d expect, so long as they don’t look down their noses at him for being a hobbit of honest labour.’

He stopped, for they were approaching the outskirts of Bywater and he did not want to be overheard. ‘But rolled-up sleeves and plain talk, they don’t cut any ice with the gentry, you see?’

He looked intently into Sam’s face. ‘If I, as a healer, want them to mind my words, I’ve got to get them to do more than half-listen to me,’ he said.

’Half-listen,’ Sam echoed, puzzled.

’I have to talk their talk,’ Budgie said, ‘but if I’m looking plain and speaking fancy it makes them uncomfortable, so I take pains with my appearance so as to make it easier for them to listen. Poor souls, they don’t know any better, and so I make the effort.’

He grinned suddenly. ‘It’ll be a good thing for you to keep in mind, should you ever go for Mayor.’

’Mayor!’ Sam said in shock. ‘Why should I ever do that?’

’Mr Freddy seems to think you’d fill the position well,’ Budgie said. ‘He keeps saying, “That Sam! He keeps the post moving so well between Bag End and Midge Hall, he ought to put his hand to overseeing the messenger service for the Shire!” That’s the Mayor’s job, you know.’

Sam was silent, digesting this thought.

’Anyhow,’ Budgie finished, ‘as Mayor you’ll have quite a bit of doings with the gentry. They’ll listen better to you if you talk their talk, and set them at their ease. And that’s not putting on airs! It’s only if you act the part amongst common hobbits, who know better...’

’I see,’ Sam said.

’Well, you’d better get back to your lovely wife,’ Budgie said suddenly. ‘Looks to me as if she’s due to pop any time now, and you wouldn’t want to miss it!’

’D’you think so?’ Sam said.

’I’m a healer, am I not?’ Budgie said. ‘Don’t you worry about your Mr Frodo, I’m quite capable of looking after him as well as Mr Freddy.’

’Yes, well, thank you,’ Sam stammered, his thoughts on Rose. ‘I hope to see you day after the morrow.’

’As do I!’ Budgie said. He and Sam parted, and he made his way through Bywater and Hobbiton and back up the Hill, whistling again.

The smell of good stew met his nostrils as he put the pie down on the kitchen table, unwrapping it and taking a deep whiff. ‘Mmm, that’ll be good,’ he said aloud. He rolled down his sleeves and buttoned the cuffs, then donned his waistcoat once more. The bread he’d set to rise before leaving was ready for the baking, and soon the aroma was wafting through Bag End, and the teakettle was singing a cheerful song.

’Something smells good,’ Freddy said, emerging from Frodo’s room.

’Did you get a lot done?’ Budgie said. ‘The Cottons send their regards, and a pie for our enjoyment.’

’A pie!’ Freddy said, and gazed at the masterpiece gracing the table. ‘And such a pie! I thought you’d baked it with your two little hands.’

’Not I,’ Budgie said. ‘I’ve been too busy reassuring Sam that his master is well.’

’A morning well spent,’ Freddy said. ‘Frodo is well, as a matter of fact. I left him sleeping peacefully.’ He sat down at the table while Budgie dumped the warm water out of the teapot and added leaves and boiling water.

’I’ll have a lovely mushroom omelette for you in three shakes,’ Budgie said cheerily, ‘right about the time the first of the buns come out of the oven.’

They sat down to elevenses, talking quietly while they ate. ‘I told the Cottons we’d be down the day after the morrow,’ Budgie said.

’Will Frodo be well enough, d’you think?’ Freddy asked.

’I hope so,’ Budgie said. ‘His heart—I do not like the sound of it, still.’

’What is it?’ Freddy said. ‘A heart seizure?’ His face was very sober.

’No,’ Budgie answered. ‘It doesn’t sound that way. It’s just—I cannot put my finger on it. A slushy sound where it should sound crisp and clear, but so slight... perhaps I am only imagining it.’ He took a sip of his tea. ‘He seems very tired. It may be no more than that.’

’We shall ride our ponies down the Hill to the Cottons,’ Freddy said, ‘for “my benefit”, of course.’

’Yes, spare both of you the walk back up,’ Budgie said. ‘An excellent notion.’

’Did you mention to Sammy my idea of him going for Mayor?’ Freddy asked after polishing off his omelette and pouring another cup of tea for Budgie and himself.

’I did,’ Budgie said. ‘He took it about as you thought he would.’

’We’ve got to give him plenty of time to get used to the idea,’ Freddy said.

’I’d say six years is plenty of time,’ Budgie chuckled, then sobered. ‘Old Will has the position that long, though I’d imagine he’ll step down at the end of this term. He may look like the “old” Will, but the Lockholes left their mark on him. He won’t live past an hundred, I’d say, and he owes his wife a few years of quiet retirement before he leaves her.’

’You don’t miss much, do you, old friend?’ Freddy said. ‘And what about me?’

’You probably won’t live past an hundred, either,’ Budgie said candidly. ‘But that still leaves you a good fifty or sixty years to give to a wife, now, doesn’t it?’

 Chapter 61. Of a Hot Summer's Day

Post continued to move efficiently between Bag End and Midge Hall. However, on March the twenty-fourth the daily letter did not arrive. ‘I wonder if it’s a boy or a girl?’ Freddy mused at supper that day.

Viola looked up with a pretty blush. ‘However did you know, Freddy?’ she asked shyly.

Freddy regarded her with astonishment then threw back his head to laugh. Wiping his eyes, he met Budgie’s sheepish grin. ‘Congratulations, Budgie!’

’Thanks,’ the healer said. ‘We were only just sure of it in the past few days.’ He freshened everyone’s tea. ‘But you weren’t talking about us, I gather.’

’No, I wasn’t,’ Freddy said, nodding thanks, sugaring his tea and adding milk. ‘There was no note from Frodo this day.’

’Ah, you’re right, there wasn’t!’ Budgie said. ‘Perhaps all are busy about other matters.’

’No doubt,’ Freddy said, ‘and that’s all to the good. I can sit down today and catch up on the corrections to the final draught so that Frodo can copy it all into the Red Book. I’ve never seen such a stickler as that cousin of mine! You’d think he was trying to finish the writing before the Year’s out.’

’Is he close?’ Budgie asked.

’No, there’s a fair amount of work to be done yet,’ Freddy said, getting up from the table and taking up cup and saucer. ‘I had better get to it so that I can send back a batch of papers with the next messenger.’ He retired to the little study and worked with a will until Budgie came in to snuff the lamps.

’Is it that time already, Budgie?’ Freddy said, sitting back and stretching. ‘I’m afraid I lost myself again.’

’Easy to do,’ Budgie said. He’d heard parts of the story that raised the hair on the back of his neck, and other scraps that tantalised and made him wish for more. It would be something indeed to hear it all from start to finish in proper order, though he’d overheard Meriadoc Brandybuck arguing with Mr Freddy. It seemed he thought parts of the tale unfit for hobbit hearts.

***

’You needn’t read it,’ Freddy had finally said in exasperation. ‘But do stop trying to discourage Frodo from writing it down! You’ve been no end of trouble and grief to our ancient and venerable cousin with your reluctance to tell of your memories!’

’I’m sorry,’ Merry had said, his usually cheerful face sober. ‘I don’t mean to cause him grief. On the contrary, I thought I was sparing him dark thoughts.’

’Saving him from himself?’ Freddy said wryly. ‘You’ll never do that. He has enough dark thoughts of his own. He won’t take yours on himself, but he will write them down so that they will not be forgotten and lost. These are great events, Merry, and without Frodo and Sam’s efforts—and Pippin’s, and yours for that matter—much that I and other hobbits hold dear would have been lost. We must never forget at what cost our beloved Shire was saved.’

He sighed. ‘I must admit, cousin, that I hope he’ll purge himself of the darkness with the writing. He can get it all down, and out of himself, and put it away.’

’Now there’s a cause I can believe in,’ Pippin broke in, raising his glass. ‘To putting it all behind us!’

’Hear, hear,’ Merry said, raising his own glass high and gulping down the contents. Putting his glass down, he waved away Freddy’s offer of a refill. ‘No, I think I’ll take a ride,’ he said.

”At this time of night?’ Freddy said in astonishment.

’His pony is half owl, you know,’ Pippin said with just the slightest warning shake of his head. ‘My Socks is the early bird who must needs have a ride before breakfast or he’ll kick out his stall. Merry’s Jewel, on the other hand, has been known to wander the night through.’

’Don’t be late for breakfast,’ Freddy said lightly to hide his concern, and Merry laughed.

’Jewel never lets me miss breakfast,’ he said. ‘We’ll be back well before.’

***

Budgie came back to himself with a start. ‘What was that, Freddy?’ he said. ‘I’m afraid I was gathering wool.’

’I have a small bundle ready to send off to Bag End in the morning,’ Freddy repeated, tapping a neatly wrapped package atop the desk. ‘Will you see to it?’

’I’d be happy to do so,’ Budgie said. ‘Now,’ he added, with an arm about Freddy’s shoulders, ‘How about a glass of warm milk to top off the evening?’

’Just what the healer ordered,’ Freddy said cheerily as they left the study.

After supper on the next day they heard the clatter of a pony on the stones of the yard, and soon there was a knock at the door. ‘Quick post!’ Viola sang out.

Freddy came from the study. ‘Yes, what is it?’ he said.

’Message from Hobbiton, sir,’ the rider said, extending a folded paper. Freddy broke the seal and scanned the contents. A wide grin spread itself across his face. ‘It’s a girl!’ he said. ‘A fine, strong, healthy lass who came into the world this morning about the same time as the Sun arose from her sleep! ...and Rose is already fretting to be up and about her business, though of course they will make her rest and enjoy the babe a few days before she goes back to baking and cleaning.’

’That is good news!’ Budgie said. ‘You were right!’

’I’m always right,’ Freddy said stoutly, then put a hand to the side of his face as if telling secrets and lowered his voice. ‘Excepting, of course, for those times I’m wrong!’ They all laughed. He handed the messenger a few pieces of silver for his trouble. ‘Thank you very much, my good fellow. Do you need to go back to Hobbiton this night, or can we offer you a room for the night and breakfast in the morning?’

’Thank you, sir, very kind of you,’ the messenger said.

’I’ll just put the pony away,’ Budgie said. ‘Perhaps you’d like a bite?’

’I couldn’t put you out,’ the messenger started to protest, but Viola interrupted.

’There’s always soup simmering on the back of the stove,’ she said, ‘and plenty of bread baked fresh today. Come along now, you must be weary after riding the day through.’

’I could use another mug of soup myself,’ Freddy said with a nod to the messenger. ‘Come along, laddie, I’ll join you.’

***

Letters from Bag End were not quite as frequent, for some reason, nor did the bulky packets of pages come as often as they had.

’Consider yourself forewarned, Budgie,’ Freddy said complacently. ‘There’ll be precious little work done around here when that babe of yours arrives, I can see it now!’ He drank the last of his breakfast tea with a sigh. Mid-year’s day was behind them, and no letters or packets had arrived from Bag End in nearly a fortnight.

’Is aught amiss?’ Budgie asked.

’I’ve no more work to do,’ Freddy said. ‘I’ve finished going over the last of the papers sent me by my illustrious cousin, and until he sends more I have no distractions to keep me occupied.’

’We’ll have a picnic,’ Viola said firmly. ‘It’s a lovely day, and summer goes by all too quickly as it is!’

’Quite right, my dear,’ Budgie said, setting his own cup down. ‘I’ll just do the washing up whilst you pack the hamper and we’ll spend the day on the meadow. A little fresh air will do you good, Freddy, and you’ll be all the fresher for the sunshine.’

’Who am I to argue with a healer?’ Freddy said. Budgie refrained from snorting, but only just.

They had a lovely day on the meadow, returning reddened from the Sun and weary with laughing, the good kind of tiredness that comes after a day in the open air. That night as he was retiring, Freddy said, ‘D’you know, Budgie, I think we shall make another visit to Bag End next week if I do not hear from my cousin beforehand. He was supposed to visit Brandy Hall sometime this month, but I’ve heard nothing! Surely he’d stop in, seeing how we’re on the way.’

’I should think so,’ Budgie said. ‘On the other hand, he may be unable to tear himself away, being an Honorary Uncle after all.’

’Ah yes,’ Freddy said. ‘I wonder how one would arrive at that distinction?’

’O I’d imagine it involves being in the right place at the right time,’ Budgie said. ‘It is not inconceivable that such a thing might be in your future.’

Freddy chuckled. ’I’ll hold you to that,’ he warned.

’Be sure that you do,’ Budgie said. ‘Sleep well.’ He turned the lamp low, set it in the window, and let himself out of the room.

Two days later, Freddy sat on a blanket beneath the apple tree, reading aloud. Budgie sat nearby, holding a skein of yarn on his outstretched hands while Viola wound it off onto a ball for the knitting. It was a very warm day, and Budgie had fetched a block of ice from the icehole to chip into the pitcher of water on the tray.

Viola put down the ball of yarn to pick up her glass and sip from it. ‘Ah,’ she said. ‘That ice was a good idea, Budgie-love. I think I’m as likely to melt as the ice if this heat keeps on!’

’We mustn’t have that!’ Freddy said, taking the glass she poured for him with a nod. A cloud of dust rose from the lane below. ‘What’s this?’ he said. ‘Visitors?’

Budgie put down the yarn and rose, walking to the edge of the bluff, shielding his eyes to gaze down the lane. ‘Some four!’ he said. ‘Travellers, from the looks of it! I can see two mail shirts glinting in the sun!’

’Two cousins and two more,’ Freddy said with satisfaction. ‘Perhaps they’ve had word from Frodo, or are on their way to Bag End. We really cannot allow him to shut himself up like some sort of hermit!’ They rose to return to Midge Hall, Freddy carrying book, Budgie with the blanket and Viola’s basket of yarn, and Viola carrying only herself and the babe she bore.

As a matter of fact, Frodo was amongst the riders, but a very different Frodo from the cousin Freddy had visited in March. He was pale and limp, leaning heavily on Samwise who rode beside him. Merry rode protectively at his other side.

Pippin, seeing the little group standing before the hole, legged his pony ahead of the others. ‘I’m glad to find you at home,’ he said, jumping down from his pony. ‘Frodo’s sick with the heat! We need to get him lying down, out of the sun!’

’At once!’ Budgie said, all healer now. Under his competent leadership, they soon had Frodo safely off of brown Strider, carried into the hole and into a bed. Budgie opened the fine linen shirt and sponged Frodo with cool water while he gave orders. ‘Stir some salt and a little sugar into a glass of water,’ he said. ‘Once he’s had some of that, and we’ve gotten him cooled down a bit, he ought to be better.’ He said nothing about the swollen feet; that could come later.

***

’We were riding part way with him,’ Merry explained to Freddy later in the parlour. Budgie had harried them out of the bedroom, muttering about them breathing all the air there was to be found. They had huddled in the hallway, waiting, until Budgie emerged to say Frodo was awake and feeling much better, and they ought to take themselves off and have a cool drink before they all required the remainder of the beds in the smial. Only Sam had been allowed to stay, and he remained by Frodo’s side for the rest of the afternoon. ‘He and Sam had spent a week at the Hall, and were on their way back to Bag End.’

’Part way?’ Freddy asked.

’We were on our way to Long Cleeve,’ Pippin said, ‘just to stop off and see my relatives, the north-Tooks, you know.’

’Ah,’ Freddy said wisely. ‘I hear they have several pretty daughters.’

’I’ve heard something to that effect myself,’ Merry said casually. ‘At any event, Frodo was feeling the effects of the heat when we got to the Bridge, but you know him; he didn’t say anything.’

’I felt it a bit myself, rather,’ Pippin put in.

’I don’t know why you must wear a mail shirt in this weather,’ Freddy said. ‘Surely good sense would win out over vanity!’

’Not in Pip’s case,’ Merry said. ‘However, if you were to ask me, I’d say I’ve grown so used to the mail I hardly notice it anymore. As a matter of fact, I’d feel quite undressed without it.’

’We mustn’t have that,’ Freddy said. ‘Besides which, it helps in the cadging of free meals.’

’You have the right of it, cousin!’ Pippin said. ‘On some days we manage two dinners!’

’Speaking of food,’ Viola said from the doorway, ‘I have a cold supper laid out in the dining room. Don’t let it go to waste!’

 ‘Certainly not, Viola, dear,’ Freddy said, rising. He led the guests to the supper and all had a fine time building sandwiches after being reassured that Frodo was much improved, but sleeping too peacefully to allow visitors. Sam came in partway through the meal and quietly built himself a sandwich.

’How is he, Sam?’ Merry asked.

’Still asleep,’ Sam said. ‘Budgie chased me out, told me I wouldn’t do Mr Frodo any good if I made myself ill from worry. He’ll call me when Mr Frodo awakens.’

’I’ve made up beds for you all,’ Viola said briskly, bringing in another pitcher of cold buttermilk. ‘Of course you’ll stay the night.’

’Of course they shall!’ Freddy laughed. ‘I want to hear all about Pip’s relatives, the north-Tooks. Name their daughters after precious gems, I hear. Let me see now, there’s Diamond and Ruby and Emerald...’

The next morning, Frodo was much improved, though still pale. Budgie insisted on keeping him in the bed, but he was sitting up and fretting to return to Bag End for Sam’s sake. ‘I can ride, really I can,’ he said.

’Today is promising to be just as hot as yesterday was,’ Freddy said sternly, ‘if not hotter. You ought to stay here in the cool of the smial until you’re quite recovered, Frodo. You know that heat sickness is always worse once you’ve had a taste of it.’

’He’s right,’ Budgie said.

’But Sam—‘ Frodo protested.

’Sam needs to get back to his Rosie and little Ellie,’ Freddy said. ‘And why can he not go off this morning? He’s not sick from the heat!’

’But—‘ Sam said with a protest of his own.

’You go on, Sammy,’ Freddy said. ‘You know Frodo’ll never rest unless you do; he’ll just keep fretting about you getting back to Rosie and the babe! I’ll bring him back to Bag End in the coach when this heat spell breaks, you see if I don’t.’

’I think I can take nearly as good a care of him as you do,’ Budgie said diffidently. ‘I am a healer in the bargain, which comes in handy when treating heat sickness.’

’It’ll be nice to have some of his attention drawn away,’ Freddy said, fanning himself dramatically. ‘You would not believe how difficult it is to survive living with a healer!’

Chapter 62. Heart-to-Heart Talk

When all the arguing was finished, Sam set out for Bag End alone. Merry and Pippin stayed over another day and then rode off to Long Cleeve, and Midge Hall became a place of peace and rest once more.

Frodo improved slowly, save the swelling in his feet. Budgie gave him herbal mixtures to drink to help flush the extra fluid from his body, and had him soak his feet in a solution of salts, but the swelling abated slowly. Freddy took to sitting in the bedroom, slouched in a chair, his own feet up on the bed as the two cousins alternated between talk and companionable silence.

’I really must be getting back,’ Frodo said two days after the Travellers left. ‘There is so much work to be done yet! Not only copying the finished work into the Red Book, but half the scouring of the Shire, and what came after.’

’O yes,’ Freddy said. ‘You mustn’t leave me languishing in the Lockholes, cousin!’

’I haven’t even got you in the Lockholes yet, cousin!’ Frodo countered.

’Good, keep me out altogether if you don’t mind,’ Freddy said. ‘Would you like another cup of tea?’

’I might just float away,’ Frodo said, and smiled. ‘Budgie tells me if I keep drinking copious amounts it’ll help the swelling go down faster. It doesn’t make any sense to me: drink more to reduce fluids, but he’s the healer.’

’Ah,’ Freddy said wisely, not having anything else to contribute. Healer’s orders did not always make sense to him, either, but Budgie’s instincts were usually spot-on. He upended the teapot over Frodo’s cup. Only a few drops came out. ‘I’ll have to fill it up again,’ he said.

’See if you can bring something to go along with it,’ Frodo said. ‘A bit of bread and butter would not go amiss.’ Freddy nodded. Frodo had eaten very little since his arrival; his host was glad to hear this request.

As he approached the kitchen he heard Budgie talking quietly to Viola, and something about the healer’s tone made him stop just short of the doorway. ‘...times like this that I wish my father were a carter, or a stonecutter, or a fuller, and I’d been able to follow in his footsteps.’

’Aw, Budgie,’ Viola answered, and Freddy could envision her rubbing her husband’s hand soothingly. ‘Folk would still be a-dying, were you not a healer.’

’Who’s dying?’ Freddy said, entering the kitchen. He had a terrible feeling that they were discussing either himself or Frodo. The look on Budgie’s face confirmed his fear.

’We none of us knows our end,’ the healer said now, but Freddy interrupted as Viola smoothly rose from the table and took the pot out of his hands.

’Healers ought to know better than others,’ he said sharply. ‘Who’s dying?’

’Sit down, Mr Freddy,’ Budgie said in reply. Freddy sat down slowly. Budgie must be truly upset to have forgotten and used the honorific in front of his name.

’What is it?’ Freddy said, his breath catching in his throat.

’Now, don’t put yourself out, Freddy,’ Budgie said, remembering this time. ‘It won’t make it right for you to work yourself up and put yourself in a bed.’

’It’s Frodo, then,’ Freddy said. ‘Tell me what you know.’

Budgie sighed. ‘I don’t know enough,’ he said, and added wryly, ‘and yet I know too much for my own peace of mind.’ Before Freddy could ask further, he said, ‘You’re right, Freddy. Your cousin’s dying.’

While waiting for the teakettle to boil, Viola had poured out a glass of water and measured a few drops from the bottle they kept on a high shelf. Now she placed it in front of Freddy and said, ‘Drink up, Freddy.’ He drank without protest.

Putting down the glass, he said, ‘Dying?’

Budgie nodded. ‘There’s a marked change from the Spring,’ he said. ‘Then his heart sounded...’ he paused to think back.

’You said it was squishy or slushy or some such,’ Freddy said helpfully.

’It’s a more common problem than you’d think,’ Budgie said. ‘My father told me a fair number of hobbits, one in a hundred say, maybe a few more, are born that way, and it never troubles them for all of their lives.’

’Yes,’ Freddy said. ‘Go on.’

’That is what I hoped I was hearing,’ Budgie said. ‘Something that would just settle back into obscurity as soon as he got over that bad spell, just something to watch for in case of illness.’

’But it wasn’t,’ Freddy said.

Budgie sighed. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t the kind of thing that lasts a hobbit all his life yet troubles him not at all, or rarely. It was the early sign of the failing of his heart.’

’His heart!’ Freddy said. ‘He’s had a seizure?’ He stiffened, his hand unconsciously seeking his own breast.

’No,’ Budgie said firmly. ‘Your heart is not failing, Freddy, for all it was damaged by the ruffians’ treatment of you. Though you’ve had a heart seizure, or two, even, with care we can keep you going in relatively fine health for a good many years to come.’

’My heart is not failing,’ Freddy said, ‘but Frodo’s is? I do not understand.’

’I don’t understand it, completely,’ Budgie said. ‘Perhaps if healers knew more about it, we’d be able to do something.’ He leaned forward. ‘The swelling in his feet is a bad sign, Freddy. The racing of his heart last Spring was alarming, but I hoped it was related to the bad spell, and in truth it did pass within a few days.’

’Tell me more,’ Freddy said.

’His heart is labouring ever harder,’ Budgie said. ‘Somehow, to fight the difficulty, his body pours extra fluid into the tissues. I’m not sure how it works, only that it is what we healers see as this sort of thing takes its course. Not only is fluid building in his limbs, but it is building in his chest, making breathing difficult.’

’That is why you have him sitting up to sleep,’ Freddy said. ‘And why you keep forcing ever more vile concoctions down his throat, and tell him to keep drinking.’

’Fight fluid with more fluid,’ Budgie said. ‘It’s working; the swelling is going down, albeit slowly.’

Freddy wanted to ask why this was happening, but Budgie had already admitted the limitations of healers’ knowledge. Instead, he toyed with his glass, thinking awhile, before he finally raised his head to meet Budgie’s eyes. ‘How long?’

’You know better than to ask such a question,’ Budgie said.

’Tell me the best and the worst,’ Freddy said. ‘You can do that much, surely! You told my parents as much about me.’ Best, he could live to see his ninetieth year, perhaps a bit more. Worst... well, he could fall on his head this very day and be buried on the morrow. In truth, no hobbit knows how many sips are in the cup.

Budgie shook his head. ‘I cannot say,’ he said. ‘He has failed markedly since the Spring; he could stay as he is now, or he could continue to fail at the same rate, or he could go even faster. I do not see any improvement in store, in any event.’ He met Freddy’s eye steadily. ‘At best, he could last until his next bad spell. They happen in March, you said? I do not think his heart will survive the strain of another.’

Freddy sat stunned. ‘March,’ he whispered. ‘And October. He’s told me of two anniversaries that he observes, whether he cares to, or not.’

’I’m sorry, Freddy,’ Budgie said softly.

Chapter 63. Breaking the News

As Freddy entered the bedroom, teapot in hand, Frodo said cheerily, ‘I was beginning to think you’d gone out to pick the tea leaves by hand!’

 ‘I had to dig another well and haul water up the hill into the bargain,’ Freddy said, but his heart wasn’t in it. Silently he poured fresh tea into Frodo’s cup and added milk and sugar.

 ‘Have you threshed the wheat yet, for the bread? Or is it that you have not yet milked the cow and churned the butter?’ Frodo asked lightly.

 ‘My most ancient and venerable cousin!’ Freddy said in chagrin. ‘Your bread-and-butter slipped my mind completely. I must be growing as old and senile as you!’ He jumped up from his chair and hurried from the room, but once in the hallway he stopped and leaned his forehead against the smooth, curved wall.

Viola saw him there as she crossed from the dry sink to the table. ‘Budgie,’ she said softly.

Her husband rose instantly from his chair, turning to catch sight of Freddy just outside the kitchen. He hurried to take Freddy’s arm. ‘Come, sit down,’ he urged.

Freddy straightened, wiping at his eyes. ‘I am well,’ he said. ‘I forgot; my cousin wanted some bread-and-butter to go with his tea.’

 ‘Do you want me to—’ Budgie began, but Freddy shook him off.

 ‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s just that—no, Budgie, I’ll tell him. I can do that much. I hadn’t the courage to go with him from the Shire, when every stranger’s hand was against him and only two young cousins and a gardener followed, but I can do this little thing for him, at least. It’s my place to tell him; I’m his cousin after all.’

As they talked, Viola cut slices of bread and buttered them, arranging them attractively on a flowered plate with a little pot of honey and another of her own raspberry jam. She held the plate out to Freddy with a sympathetic smile. ‘Bread-and-jam,’ she said simply. ‘Enough for the both of you, and I’ll stir up some nice currant scones and bring them to you hot out of the oven, in a bit.’

 ‘Thank you, Viola,’ Freddy said, taking the plate. As he exited the kitchen, Budgie sat down again with a sigh.

Entering the bedroom, Freddy held out the plate with a flourish. ‘Your bread-and-butter, sir!’

 ‘Indeed,’ Frodo said. ‘More than I asked for—honey and jam besides.’ He took the plate and spooned some jam onto a slice of bread, took a bite and closed his eyes. ‘Mmmm,’ he said. ‘Tastes just like what my mother used to make.’

 ‘How can you remember that far back?’ Freddy asked. ‘It’s nigh on an hundred years ago!’

 ‘I can see why Rudivacar’s taken over the Quarry and the mines,’ Frodo said, his eyes still closed. ‘You really need to brush up on your calculating, cousin, it’s only been half that long.’ He opened his eyes and smiled. ‘Do help me out here, Freddy,’ he said. ‘There’s enough to feed an army!’

Freddy drizzled honey over a piece of buttered bread. It made a nice accompaniment to the cup of tea Frodo poured for him. They sat companionably, as if it were any other day of an ordinary visit, instead of the day when Freddy would have to break the news to Frodo that... He shied from the thought. A few moments more, what would be the harm in that?

Frodo was the first to broach the subject. ‘Something’s on your mind, Freddy.’

 ‘You noticed,’ Freddy said.

 ‘How could I help noticing? You’ve a face as long as a rainy day,’ Frodo said. ‘Not that a little rain wouldn’t be welcome, to break this heat spell we’re having.’

 ‘Frodo, there’s something I have to tell you,’ Freddy said. ‘Budgie says—’ He swallowed hard, unable to force the words past the lump in his throat.

 ‘I’m dying, yes, I know,’ Frodo said quietly, meeting his eyes with a steady gaze.

 ‘You know?’ Freddy said, dumbfounded. ‘How?’

 ‘Freddy,’ Frodo chided gently. ‘You don’t think I’d noticed that my walks grow shorter each day—for I haven’t the breath to go as far, nor as fast as I used to just a few short months ago?’

 ‘But—’ Freddy said.

 ‘I’m not sure quite what the problem is, but each morning when I arise I’ve lost a little more ground.’

 ‘You’re not sure—you never went to a healer?’

Frodo spread his hands, cup in one and bread in the other. ‘What would a healer tell me that I don’t already know?’

 ‘They might—they might have some medicine, some potion—’ Freddy countered, but Frodo shook his head with a smile.

 ‘Healer’s potions aren’t magical, Freddy,’ he said. ‘If they were then nobody’d die now, would they? Hobbits would live as long as the Elves do.’ He took another bite of bread and set it back down on the plate, and then sipped at his tea. ‘O I was upset at first when I realised, even railed a bit against my fate. Why now, when the Shire is saved and I’ve my whole life ahead of me?’

Freddy was silent, and Frodo continued after another sip. ‘But the memories are so dark, Freddy, and they are always there. I think they’re growing stronger as I grow weaker. The jewel—’ he fingered Arwen’s gift, ‘—the jewel is becoming less effective, or else it’s just that I’m less able to fight.’

 ‘Frodo,’ Freddy breathed, grieved. ‘I’d no idea... was it the writing?’ Had he helped his cousin sow the seeds of his own destruction?

Frodo put down his empty teacup, reached out to take his younger cousin’s hand. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not at all. If anything, the writing helped. I was able to clarify my thoughts, to know that there really was no other course to take than the one set before us. I thought at first that I’d failed— To claim the Ring for my own, what a fool I was! I was mad, Freddy, driven mad by that Thing and I had no power to resist at the end.’

 ‘Frodo,’ Freddy said again, but his cousin squeezed his hand and continued.

 ‘But I see now,’ Frodo said, ‘that I did all I was meant to do. I was meant to bring the Ring to the Fire, and that was enough. The same Power that brought the Thing to Deagol in the Anduin, to Smeagol through murder and greed, to Bilbo by “chance”—hah!’ He uttered a sharp bark of laughter. ‘—and then to my hand, by inheritance, mine, the only hand perhaps that could resist claiming the Thing for the time it took to make the journey, something none of the Wise was willing to attempt. That Power arranged for the Ring to go into the Fire.’

 ‘Power?’ Freddy said, his mind feeling too small to surround this idea and take it in.

 ‘Call it what you will,’ Frodo said. ‘D’you know, when we were there in that terrible Land, Sam spoke about asking the Lady “just for a bit of water and light”.’

 ‘I remember,’ Freddy said. ‘It was in the papers I sent back to you in April or May, I think.’

 ‘We got our water, and our light, though there was no hope in us. How did that come to be? Did the Lady hear us somehow, and look upon us with pity in her heart?’ Frodo said.

Freddy saw that he didn’t expect an answer, he was musing aloud.

The elder cousin sat up straighter, smiling again. ‘In any event, the writing helped,’ he said matter-of-factly.

 ‘I’m glad of that,’ Freddy said softly. ‘How long, then? How long have you known?’

 ‘I never quite felt right after that bad spell in October,’ Frodo answered. ‘I tried to pass it off as the winter gloom, you know how you feel when the Sun hides her face for days on end, and the nights are so long and dark... but when Spring came, I felt no better. Somehow, I knew after that bad spell in March that my days were numbered. I’ve been watching myself go downhill ever since. Starting in March, I could not walk as far as I had the previous Spring, and my walks have decreased steadily ever since.’

 ‘You still walk,’ Freddy said.

 ‘Of course, every day,’ Frodo replied. ‘Sam would be alarmed if I didn’t.’

 ‘Sam...’ Freddy said. ‘You mean, Sam doesn’t know?’

 ‘I hope not,’ Frodo said.

Freddy tried to speak calmly and reasonably. ‘You’ve known you were dying, and been keeping the news from those who are closest to you?’ He thought of Merry and Pippin’s frequent visits, and Sam’s devotion to his master—Sam...

 ‘I didn’t want to worry Sam, what with the new babe and all—’ Frodo began.

Freddy found himself shaking in his perturbation, but he tried to cover his weakness by saying ironically, 'Don't you think Sam might notice, Frodo, when he finds you dead on the study floor?' He tried to take a deep breath, feeling a warning pain in his breast. 'Whom are you protecting with your silence, cousin, Sam — or yourself?' He fumbled to place his teacup back on its saucer, only to knock cup and saucer both to the floor, where they missed the soft carpet, of course, and shattered.

In the kitchen Budgie put down his teacup at the crash and rose abruptly. ‘That doesn’t sound good,’ he said. Viola nodded and took down the bottle from the high shelf as her husband hurried from the room.

Entering the guest room the healer found Freddy stiff and white, breathing in gasps, while Frodo had started up from the bed in distress. ‘Freddy, Freddy—cousin, steady now!’

Circling Freddy’s wrist with his fingers, Budgie eyed the older hobbit sternly. ‘Back in the bed,’ he ordered. ‘I don’t need the both of you falling on your faces at the same time. What mischief is this?’

Frodo had no answer as Viola bustled into the room with a glass. ‘Come, Freddy,’ she soothed. ‘Drink up now. You know you oughtn’t to let yourself get worked up this way!’

Freddy drank while Budgie encouraged him to steady his breathing, keeping his hand about Freddy’s wrist the entire time, until he finally sat back with a sigh. ‘Freddy,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I ought to pop you into bed this moment.’

 ‘No,’ Frodo said unexpectedly. ‘No, we’re not quite finished with our business yet.’

 ‘You’ve nearly finished your cousin, Mr Baggins,’ Budgie said severely, but Freddy blinked and looked up.

 ‘If you please, Budgie,’ he said mildly, though it took him an effort to speak so. ‘I promise to be good. Evidently Frodo has as much to say to me as I had to say to him, earlier.’

Chapter 64. Into the Darkness

Frodo waited until Budgie and Viola left the room before he spoke. ‘Are you well, cousin?’ he said.

’As well as can be expected,’ Freddy answered. He was comfortably propped in his chair again, his feet up on the bed, and feeling a little sleepy from the draught. ‘How about you?’ he asked with a feeling of absurdity.

Frodo threw back his head and laughed, the old laugh that Freddy had missed these many months. ‘Look at the two of us!’ he said. ‘Don’t we make a pair!’ His laugh was infectious, and Freddy found himself chuckling as well.

’You’ll be the death of me yet, cousin,’ he answered, and Frodo sobered abruptly.

’I certainly hope not,’ he said. Leaning forward, he said, ‘I want you to make me a solemn promise.’

’I do not think I like the sound of this,’ Freddy said. ‘I won’t do it, if you are going to ask me to let you walk this road alone.’

’Ah, Freddy,’ Frodo said. He poured himself another cup of tea and spent a long time stirring the sugar in until he was satisfied that it had fully dissolved. Finally he looked up. ‘I am afraid to let you walk with me, Freddy,’ he said. ‘You’re not strong as it is.’

’I will be as strong as need be,’ Freddy said. ‘Why won’t you let Merry and Pippin help you? Why not Sam? Why walk alone into the dark? It’s not our way, Frodo, not the way hobbits do things. Is this what Men have taught you? I don’t think much of their ways, if it is so.’

’No, no of course not!’ Frodo said. ‘The best Man I know sat by my side for many hours, holding my hand, when my recovery was in doubt—that is, when Merry could not be with me, and with Sam, because he had to be with Pippin part of the time. Ah, Merry! It was difficult for him to be the only one of us on his feet... The King took his place some of the time, in Cormallen.’

’The King!’ Freddy exclaimed. ‘You had a King walking with you in the darkness?’ Frodo had not written of the days of healing in Cormallen. His account jumped abruptly from Pippin’s thoughts beneath the troll, to Gandalf’s rescue of the hobbits on the side of Mount Doom, to Sam’s wakening a fortnight later. Freddy had pressed him for details, but Frodo had put his cousin off, saying he’d come back to that part later. Now Freddy wondered if “later” would never come.

’And a fine job he did of it, too,’ Frodo said stoutly. ‘I’m told he sang songs and told stories as well as any hobbit would have.’

Freddy brought him back to the subject at hand. ‘Why not Merry now? He’d gladly give his all for you...’

’He has given enough,’ Frodo said. ‘Pippin, too. And Sam—how can I ask him to watch the darkness take me? How can I ask it of any of them? The Shadow has brushed each of them, and I would not have them see it claim me at last.’

’What about...’ Freddy said, and stopped.

’Yes, Freddy?’ Frodo prompted.

’What about Arwen’s offer? Her place on the Ship? She said you could be healed of your hurts...’

’Did you know, I looked for Bilbo in the woods, last Autumn?’ Frodo said absently. ‘I was torn between going with him to see him off, and going with him to board the Ship. Ah, ‘twas difficult, the choice that I anticipated. Much as I love Bilbo, I wanted to stay here. The Shire is my home, and more beautiful than it ever was for the price I paid to keep it as it is.’

’And so you stayed?’ Freddy said soberly. That option was closed, then.

’I never saw him,’ Frodo said. ‘Did I miss him, somehow? Elves can travel so quietly that they seem to be but a swift shimmer under the trees. Or is it that I mistook Elrond’s meaning, and they haven’t left yet? I haven’t the strength to travel to Rivendell, to see if any remain there, and who would take a message such a long way?’ He sighed. ‘And now my time is running out, and I suppose I shall never know...’

’Merry would go for you, were you only to ask him,’ Freddy said, but Frodo held up a hand.

’But then he’d have to know why,’ he said. As Freddy hesitated, Frodo’s expression grew stern. ‘You are not to tell anyone,’ he said. ‘Not Merry, not Pippin, not even my faithful Samwise.’

’But Frodo!’ Freddy protested.

’No,’ Frodo said stubbornly. ‘I won’t have them hovering about, dreading the end, haunted by Shadow. I’d rather ride off without a word to anyone, my fate a mystery forevermore, than to torment those that I love.’

’Torment?’ Freddy said. ‘You think not knowing would not be a torment?’

’Freddy,’ Frodo said intensely, putting a hand on his cousin’s. ‘You have seen only the smallest sliver of Shadow, the echo of darkness in Saruman, yet it haunts you still. Think on what Merry, Pippin and Sam have been through! You’ve read the accounts, but they don’t begin to describe their suffering!’

’So Merry wished it,’ Freddy said low.

’And Merry was right,’ Frodo said more gently. ‘There’s no need to darken the hearts and minds of hobbits with more than the details I’ve already written.’ He met Freddy’s eyes with his own, his gaze demanding attention. ‘I will not put my cousins through it,’ he said. ‘Do you understand me, Freddy?’

Freddy met his gaze for several breaths. ‘I understand,’ he said at last, ‘but do not expect me to abandon you. I will keep your secret, but I will not let you walk alone.’

’Freddy, you’re not well...’ Frodo began.

Freddy, incongruously, laughed. ‘So what is the worst that can happen? We die together, and walk into the darkness hand-in-hand,’ he said. ‘I’m not afraid!’ He took Frodo’s hand in a firm grip. ‘And if I survive, at least I can hold my head up, knowing I did not let you walk alone.’

’And you say you stayed behind at Crickhollow because you hadn’t enough courage,’ Frodo said, shaking his head. ‘Ah, cousin, you’ve enough courage for two.’

***

Frodo stayed another week, until the heat broke. Freddy spent the time scrupulously following Budgie’s orders: eating well, sleeping long, taking light exercise, talking and laughing much, now that all secrets were behind them. Thus it was when a day of cool rain came, Budgie allowed that he was strong enough to ride in the coach to Hobbiton, to see his cousin home.

They made an easy three-day journey, travelling slowly, the curtains rolled up that they might watch the countryside passing. Frodo drank in all the sights, ever thirsty for more of his beloved Shire. He especially enjoyed pointing out Sam’s trees, but found pleasure in many other things as well: children splashing in the puddles left by the rain, a brilliant rainbow in the sky, waves of wind sweeping over a sea of wheat, the good-natured laughter in the common room of an inn while savoury smells filled the air.

They reached Bag End near suppertime of the third day. ‘Home!’ Frodo exclaimed. ‘There’s something about it—no place else in the world could ever be so grand, not even Imladris or Lothlorien!’

’I dunno,’ Sam said, smiling to greet them and help them from the coach. ‘Lothlorien is awfully grand.’ He welcomed Freddy and Budgie, told Frodo he was looking much better, and said, ‘Supper is about ready, if you’d like to freshen up beforehand. Would you like to lie down, Mr Freddy?’

’I am well,’ Freddy said. ‘It was a restful journey, Sammy. With Budgie along how could it be otherwise?’ Changing the subject firmly, he said, ‘Now where’s that wondrous babe? Is it true that her hair is the colour of spun gold?’

’It grows brighter each day,’ Sam said. ‘I sometimes wonder if a wandering Elf mislaid some grace hereabouts and it ended up in our cradle! She’s a beauty.’

’Every father thinks so,’ Freddy laughed, but he had to admit that little Elanor was a beautiful baby in truth when he saw her. ‘May I?’ he asked a smiling Rose.

’Sit yourself down,’ she said, indicating the rocking chair in the kitchen. ‘You can cuddle her whilst I’m putting the finishing touches on our supper.’ Freddy sat obediently, and she settled the wee babe in his arms. Elanor looked up at him in surprise, and he found himself cooing, to Frodo’s great amusement.

’You’ll have to make him an honorary uncle, Rose,’ he chuckled. ‘Ellie’s got him eating out of her hand already.’

’Indeed,’ Freddy said, tenderly kissing the little fingers that explored his face. ‘Absolutely delicious, I must say. Supper pales by comparison.’ He felt a pang as little Ellie smiled and sang him a baby’s song. Melilot Brandybuck remained unmarried; if somehow he were to survive Frodo’s coming crisis, would it be possible to return to the plans of a lifetime ago? Could someday a little one of his own rest in his arms, thus?

’She grows heavier each day,’ Rose said. ‘You must eat something of more substance if you wish to keep yourself strong enough to hold her!’ She turned back to open the oven, removing a pie that was a wonder to behold.

’Mushrooms?’ Freddy asked, taking a deep whiff.

’Rosie’s famous meat and mushroom pie,’ Sam said.

’Ah, the one Merry nearly married her for,’ Freddy said. ‘Aren’t you glad things worked out as they did, Frodo? I cannot imagine a Bag End without a Rose and an Elanor.’

’Nor can I,’ Frodo said, ‘but it’s my turn to hold her.’

’You get to hold her all the time!’ Freddy protested.

’You’ll have to make a long visit if you want more time with the baby,’ Frodo said, lifting Ellie from Freddy’s arms. ‘Who’s my little apple dumpling, then?’ he crooned. ‘Who’s my little ray of sunshine?’ The baby’s eyes lit up and she smiled winningly.

’She missed you, I think,’ Rose said as she carried the pie out of the kitchen. ‘We’re all that glad to have you back, Mr Frodo. Somehow the smial’s just not the same without you.’

’Yes,’ Frodo said to Ellie in a silly voice. ‘We must tiptoe about and never make a fuss, or “Uncle Fro” cannot get his writing done!’ He shifted Ellie to one arm and began to dance slowly about the kitchen, singing a Springle-ring song.

’It’s good to see you looking so well, Mr Frodo,’ Sam said as he pulled the cork of a wine bottle. ‘You must have had a very restful time at Midge Hall.’

’Ah yes,’ Frodo said brightly. ‘With Freddy’s resident healer hovering about, I had little choice in the matter.’

’As Freddy’s resident healer hovering about, I must insist that you hand over that babe to me and sit yourself down in the dining room,’ Budgie said with mock seriousness.

They made a merry meal and went early to bed, as early as baby Ellie, as a matter of fact. ‘Not much reason to stay up, once the sunshine’s gone,’ Frodo said as Rose made to carry the baby off.

’It’s just as well,’ Budgie said. ‘Even a slow journey is tiring, and you’re not long over your heat sickness, Mr Baggins.’ To Sam, he said, ‘Your master will have to take it easy the rest of the summer. Once you have heat sickness, you’re more likely to have it again if you overdo in the hot weather.’

’I see,’ Sam said, and Budgie nodded in satisfaction at having headed off anxiety over more serious matters on Sam’s part. He understood Frodo’s not wanting to worry Sam over his condition; his father had told him of many slowly dying patients who wanted life to continue as usual, for as long as possible. Each day was a golden coin in the treasure box of memory—better to build good memories than to fill the days with dread of what the future held. There would be a time for Sam to grieve, but not yet. Not yet, the healer repeated to himself. Not for some weeks, yet. Frodo was refreshed by the recent respite, and with care might continue as he was now for the rest of the summer, at least until the sixth of October.

The next morning, Freddy surprised Frodo by rising when he heard the teakettle’s whistle. ‘Going for your usual walk?’ he said. ‘Mind if I come along?’

’Freddy, I’m touched,’ Frodo answered. ‘I didn’t think you ever arose before second breakfast.’

’Even a wastrel can make an exception,’ Freddy said. ‘I thought I’d come and see what your fascination with the early morn is all about.’ He downed a cup of tea, smiled at Ellie, sleeping in a basket in the corner of the kitchen, and took his walking stick from the stand. ‘I’m ready when you are,’ he said.

Frodo finished his own tea. ‘Right-o!’ he said. ‘I’ll show you my favourite walk.’ To Rose he said, ‘We’ll be back in time for second breakfast!’

’Have a lovely walk,’ Rose said, kneading the bread dough she’d set to rise overnight. It’d have a delightfully sour taste to complement the shirred eggs and fried ham, the cheese-laced potatoes and herb-and-breadcrumb-stuffed baked tomatoes fresh from the garden.

’We shall,’ Freddy said, and with that they were gone. Budgie had already left on an early-morning walk of his own, down the Hill to visit the Cottons. He figured, and rightly so, that the cousins would have much to talk about, and wisely took himself out of the way. He knew Frodo would not let Freddy overdo.

The cousins walked slowly up the road leading to Overhill, pausing often to rest. ‘I’m afraid I’m not much for climbing hills,’ Freddy confessed.

’You’ll have to stay out of the Green Hill country, then,’ Frodo said.

’Not to mention the Hills of Scary,’ Freddy said. ‘Still,’ he said, looking about him, ‘it’s worth all the huffing and puffing.’

They had reached the summit. The road ran along the crest of the Hill and then dipped sharply on its way to the little community of Overhill. Frodo indicated a large, flat stone a little ways off the road. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘I often like to sit here and catch my breath before turning back to hole, hearth and breakfast.’

The cousins sat down and viewed in silence the panorama that spread out on all sides. Well-ordered fields made a patchwork below, outlined with stone walls. Here and there were little clumps of trees, promising shade and rest as the day grew warm. Smoke arose from stove-pipes and chimneys, telling of breakfast in the making. Some hard-working hobbit mums had already hung out wash for the day, though they must have been up betimes to do so. The bright colours added a festive air to the green landscape. The Water sparkled silvery blue far below, running on its course to the Brandywine.

’Beautiful,’ Freddy sighed.

’Isn’t it, though?’ Frodo agreed. ‘I’d like to be buried on this spot. O I know I won’t be able to see it, then, isn’t that silly? But any who care to remember me could always come here, sit on the rock, have a quiet smoke and think of me kindly, I hope.’

Freddy nodded without speaking. A sudden lump had come into his throat.

’Isn’t it odd?’ Frodo mused aloud.

Freddy found his voice. ‘What’s odd?’ he asked.

’Nearly a year ago, before I knew I was ill, I used to come up here and muse,’ Frodo said. ‘I decided I’d rather live and die here in the Shire than see the most beautiful places the world has to offer. I was glad, as a matter of fact, that Bilbo had passed me by...’

’And now?’ Freddy said.

’I’m resigned,’ Frodo said. ‘No, that’s not right. That sounds sad, somehow. I’ve seen so much of Middle-earth, cousin! Not just horrors, but the most beautiful places in Middle-earth, as well, and yet—I am content. The Shire is where I was born, it is the place I love best in all the world, and it seems fitting that here is the place where I’ll be buried.’ He took a deep breath and repeated softly, ‘I am content.’

’What if you could stay?’ Freddy said.

’Eh? What’s that, cousin? I don’t follow you,’ Frodo said.

’What if you could fight this, and keep on?’ Freddy said.

’O Freddy,’ Frodo sighed. ‘I’ve never stopped fighting. Every day is a new battle. I promise to keep on with the fight, as long as any strength is left to me.’ He held out a hand, and Freddy gripped it tightly, but looking down at the slender fingers, so like his own, he had the feeling that Frodo was already slipping away.

Chapter 65. Of a Birthday Remembrance

Freddy and Budgie stayed a week at Bag End before beginning the journey homewards. The last morning before Freddy's departure, the cousins walked early to the top of the Hill. They discussed for the last time their conspiracy to keep the others in blissful ignorance.

 ‘A conspiracy to end an affair that began with a conspiracy,’ Frodo said. ‘What a delightful irony.’

Budgie and Freddy would arrive at Bag End on the sixth of October for a “belated birthday” visit, sending Sam and Rose to the farm with little Ellie for a holiday. Frodo had been able to resist the onset of Shadow the previous October until the evening hours, and so he thought he’d be able to reassure Sam enough this time to send the faithful hobbit away before evening came, especially with Freddy and Budgie there. When all was over and done, Budgie and Freddy—or just Budgie, should Freddy’s heart fail him—would deal with the aftermath. It was the only plan they could think of, to keep Sam from the agony of possibly... probably... inevitably watching the Shadow take his beloved master.

 ‘What do I tell Merry and Pippin?’ Freddy said. ‘And Sam, for that matter?’

 ‘Tell them the truth,’ Frodo answered. ‘Tell them I love them, and if there is any part of me that continues, I will miss them with all my being.’ He took a deep breath, watching the sunrise turn the clouds to puffs of gold. ‘If you feel the need to tell them how I deceived them, be sure to give them the reason why. Sam will be grieved, but he will understand, I think, as will Merry... but Pip might feel betrayed, and that is not how I would leave him.’

 ‘I’ll know what to tell them,’ Freddy said. ‘You might write a note to each, just in case I’m not able...’

 ‘A good idea, cousin, I will do that,’ Frodo said. He smiled suddenly. ‘We might just be lucky, you know,’ he said.

 ‘How is that, cousin?’

 ‘I might yet die before the sixth of October, you know. Then all this will be moot,’ Frodo said lightly.

Freddy cleared his throat. ‘I think if that happens, Sam will suspect that something’s wrong.’

Frodo laughed and clapped him on the back. ‘I suppose it’s unavoidable,’ he answered. ‘Come, let us walk down to breakfast before they send the coach for us.’

***

Post moved fairly regularly between Midge Hall and Bag End for the rest of the Summer. Freddy was glad that it was such a beautiful season, for Frodo’s sake. It seemed to him as if the Shire put on her finest gown to honour the Ring-bearer as he prepared to take his leave. Freddy supposed he ought to be more worried about himself, but facing mere death seemed trifling, compared to what his cousin anticipated.

***

On the First of September, a Ranger of the North stopped at the Prancing Pony in Bree. He asked for the proprietor, and when Barliman Butterbur finally came from dealing with a minor crisis in the kitchen—something to do with the amount of salt in the gravy—the grave-faced Man asked to speak to him privately.

 ‘I have here a message that must go to the Shire without delay,’ the Ranger said, after Mr Butterbur had closed the door to his private office. ‘I am told you ought to be a reliable person to leave it with.’

 ‘Who told you that?’ Mr Butterbur wanted to know.

The Dunadan smiled, just the slightest smile, and held out a sealed envelope. In the corner was a simple G-rune, and Mr Butterbur paled.

 ‘Not—’ he said, but the Dunadan nodded. ‘Make sure it goes off at once,’ he said, and as Mr Butterbur took the envelope, he bowed, and was gone.

 ‘But—’ Mr Butterbur stuttered after him, to no avail. Swift strides had taken the Dunadan to the door and out, and by the time Mr Butterbur hurried after him, he’d already mounted his horse and was riding into the darkness.

Bob hurried up. ‘Mr Butterbur, sir, them taters we got are all spots and sprouts and I don’t know what we’ll do for the mash to go with the bangers...’ Mr Butterbur hastily shoved the letter behind a pint pot on the mantel and went into the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves in his determination to get a decent late supper on the table for the hungry diners that were soon to descend upon him.

***

On the twenty-second of September, a package arrived from Bag End as Freddy was rising from his usual nap before tea. ‘A package from your cousin, Freddy!’ Viola sang out.

 ‘Which one?’ Freddy called in return, buttoning his shirt and emerging from his room. The smial was filled with the good smells of baking: jam-filled biscuits, he’d wager, and apple pockets, if his nose wasn’t deceiving him.

A bulky package sat in the centre of the well-scrubbed table. ‘You’d best deal with that,’ Viola said, ‘or none of us will get our tea!’

 ‘Ah, Frodo,’ Freddy said, seeing the familiar firm flowing script. ‘That’s right! It’s his birthday this very day...’

 ‘How thoughtful,’ Viola murmured, coming to lay a hand upon Freddy’s shoulder. She knew very well the state of Mr Baggins’ health.

 ‘But it is not just directed to myself,’ Freddy continued. ‘Your name is there, and Budgie’s, and even the babe’s.’

 ‘What!’ Viola said in astonishment, laying a hand upon her gently swelling belly. ‘Babe’s not even born, yet!’ She could not deny the bold script, however, which read “Mr Fredegar Bolger, Master and Mrs Budgerigar Smallfoot and family, Midge Hall, Bridgefields”. ‘Would you look at that!’ she breathed. ‘I can’t say as how I’ve ever had a package before!’

 ‘There’s a first time for everything,’ Freddy said.

 ‘Well don’t just stand there, undo it!’ Budgie said from the doorway. ‘My wife is about to expire from curiosity.’

Seeing Freddy fumble with the twine, Viola took her little snips from her sewing basket and quickly dealt with that impediment. It was quick work after that to undo the wrappings...

Viola gasped as a beautifully soft knitted baby blanket appeared. ‘That’s Rosie’s work,’ Freddy said. ‘She wore a shawl of much the same pattern, some time back, the day I bought a waggonload of apples from the good farmer and sent them all off to Merry.’ He added absently, ‘Her fresh face and sweet smile stayed with me in the dark of the Lockholes; she and other hobbits like her were the reason we stood against Sharkey and the ruffians.’

Budgie laughed, pulling him back to the present. ‘I heard about that,’ he said. ‘It was the talk of the Shire—an entire waggonload of apples for the heir of Buckland. “Extraordinarily fond of apples” became a byword for quite awhile after.’

The bundle had been too heavy to contain only a knitted blanket, and so Viola unfolded it carefully lest any of the contents should fall out and break. Inside were several items with tags identifying them. The first to emerge was for Freddy, a well-thumbed little book. He picked it up, handling it reverently. ‘One of the volumes of Bilbo’s translations from the Elves,’ he breathed. ‘Frodo read to me from this during that long, dark time when he never left my side.’

 ‘Young Master Pippin brought him some of his books from Crickhollow, “to keep him out of mischief” whilst they routed out the last of the ruffians, as I recall,’ Budgie said.

 ‘Yes, that’s right,’ Freddy said. The next item he lifted was a pipe. ‘For you, Budgie,’ he said, reading the tag. ‘This is one of the pipes King Elessar had made for Frodo during his stay in Minas Tirith.’

Budgie and Viola exclaimed over the fine workmanship, the beauty of the inlaid silver that wove an intricate pattern through the carvings along the stem and around the bowl.

 ‘For Viola,’ Freddy read, taking up a carven butterfly. ‘It’s one of those things you use to decorate your hair.’

 ‘O Freddy!’ Viola laughed, taking up the delicate comb and tracing the lines with a wondering finger. ‘It’s a work of art, it is!’

 ‘It was his mother’s, one of a pair,’ Freddy said. ‘I imagine he’d give Rose the other. Oops,’ he added suddenly. ‘Nearly lost this in a corner of the blanket...’ He picked up a paper packet, of the sort hobbits fold to contain seeds saved from the garden for the next year’s planting. ‘For Viola,’ he read, and held it out to her.

She took it, and sudden tears flooded her eyes. ‘Remember me when this you see,’ she read in a whisper, touching the little blue flowers with their bright centres, drawn in ink with exquisite detail and carefully tinted. ‘I always think on him when I see that colour of blue,’ she said. ‘I know just where to plant these...’ And indeed, the descendents of those forget-me-nots bloom to this day in a little spot by the kitchen door of the smial.

There was one more paper-wrapped object, long and slender, with a warning printed on the front: Fragile! Freddy took it up and unwrapped a quill and a note. ‘I have finished the work,’ he read aloud. ‘As much as I am ever going to finish; I’ve left the rest for Sam to complete. Perhaps you can help him with his spelling, as you helped me. I thought you might like to have this, to remember our collaboration. It is the quill which wrote the final word of mine, in Bilbo’s book.’

Feeling an absurd desire to weep, Freddy straightened his back and said briskly, ‘I do believe I’ll take tea in the study today, Viola.’

 ‘Very well, Freddy,’ Viola said, wiping her tears away. ‘I’ll have it for you in three shakes.’

Chapter 66. Laying Down the Fight

Freddy and Budgie planned to depart early in the morning on the third of October, make a slow, easy journey to Bywater, where they’d stay over the evening of the fifth of October, then arrive at Bag End just after noontide. Frodo would already be in his study, Freddy would plead exhaustion, Budgie would pop him into a bed and persuade Sam to take Rose and baby Elanor to the farm for the evening, to keep things as quiet as possible for Mr Freddy. Frodo had been fairly sure that soft-hearted Sam would accede to this request.

‘There’s only one problem with the plan,’ Freddy said as the coach slowly ascended the Hill.

‘What’s that?’ Budgie said. ‘D’you think we’ll have more trouble prying Sam away from Mr Baggins than he expected?’

‘No,’ Freddy said. ‘The way we’ve planned things leaves me no time to fawn over little Ellie.’

‘Ah, well, you’ll just have to survive this, then,’ Budgie said. ‘Think of what you have to look forward to.’

He spoke lightly though his heart was heavy. Mr Freddy was improving slowly, but was he strong enough for this? He added, ‘Perhaps, if your cousin has continued as well as he was after his rest at Midge Hall, he might even survive this spell.’

‘That would be a mercy,’ Freddy said. ‘His greatest ambition these days is to die quietly in bed.’

‘We’ll see if we cannot help him achieve that aim,’ Budgie answered soberly.

Arriving at Bag End, things went much as they’d been planned. Budgie helped Freddy from the coach and into the smial, where solicitous Sam showed them to the best guest room. Once Budgie had tucked Freddy up, he returned to the hallway for a whispered consultation with the Gamgees.

‘Welcome!’ Sam said. ‘Mr Frodo was that worried when you didn’t arrive yesterday as planned.’ ...or so he’d been informed. The announced date of the visit had been October the fifth, all part of the plan, of course.

‘Mr Freddy had a bad spell in the coach yesterday, just before we reached Bywater,’ Budgie said. ‘We stopped then and there, stayed over at the Green Dragon. I’m sorry, I ought to have sent a message up the Hill but I was beside myself. He’s a little better this day, and insisted on completing the journey.’

Frodo came from the study, fetched by Rose. He was pale, but Sam might attribute that to worry over his cousin. ‘How is he?’ he whispered.

‘Resting,’ Budgie said. ‘He needs absolute quiet for a day or two.’ Taking Frodo’s arm, he led the way to the kitchen, the Gamgees following. ‘I don’t want to leave him for long, but...’ he looked at Rose. ‘This is difficult,’ he said.

‘Please,’ she answered. ‘Say what you need to say.’

‘I hate to throw you out of your home,’ the healer said reluctantly. ‘But—would it be too much to ask you to take the babe and go to the farm for a day or two? Mr Freddy was dearly looking forward to seeing little Ellie, but I would prefer that he sleep, at least until the morrow.’

Just then, a cry came from Sam and Rosie’s bedroom, little Ellie herself, wakening from her nap. Budgie winced, and Rose hastened to pick up the little one. She quickly changed Ellie’s wet things and then nursed the little one immediately, silencing the cries. When she brought the dry, satisfied little one out to the kitchen, Budgie exclaimed softly. ‘How she’s grown!’

‘Indeed,’ Sam said proudly. ‘She’s nearly six months old, you know.’

‘Sam,’ Frodo said, as if struck by a sudden thought. ‘Why don’t you go off with your family, make it a proper holiday? I’ll sit with Freddy...’

‘I can cook well enough to keep body and soul together,’ Budgie said. ‘Neither your master nor mine starved, the last time you went to the farm.’

Sam was obviously reluctant, but Frodo and Budgie talked him round, and before he knew it, he and Rose and baby Ellie had packed up and Freddy’s coach was taking them down the Hill in style.

When they were well gone, Freddy emerged from his sickbed. ‘It’s a miracle!’ he said. ‘I’m well.’

‘How nice,’ Frodo said, and shivered. Freddy was instantly at his side.

‘A chill, cousin?’

‘Yes, that is how it starts,’ Frodo answered. ‘Last year I was shut up in the study, and Sam didn’t see or know until the bad spell was nearly over.’

‘No need to shut yourself up and shiver,’ Budgie said, keeping his tone cheerful. ‘We’ll tuck you up in bed with hot bottles and hot drinks and pleasant company.’ He suited word to action, noting that Mr Baggins’ left hand and arm were icy cold to the touch, and his heart was beating faster than it ought.

The cousins chatted through the rest of the afternoon, sipping cups of warming tea. Budgie renewed the hot bottles and flannel-wrapped warmed bricks and the teapot at intervals, and brought in trays of food at teatime, which Freddy jollied Frodo into joining him in consuming.

As darkness fell outside, Budgie lit all the lamps he could find in the smial and brought quite a few into the bedroom. ‘Light, to chase away the dark,’ he said. ‘I have a lovely stew simmering away for supper, and bread about to go into the oven.’ He took up Frodo’s right hand. ‘How’s your cousin?’ he said. The weakened heart was beating much too fast for his comfort.

Frodo had fallen into a dream as darkness crept over the land, no longer answering when Freddy spoke to him. ‘He’s fighting, I hope,’ Freddy said. ‘He said he would, anyhow.’

‘He’s not breathing as well as I’d like,’ Budgie said. ‘Let us prop him up sitting.’ He pulled down the covers to check the feet, finding them swollen. ‘The dropsy again,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll brew some more herbs, if you think you can get him to drink it.’

Freddy squeezed Frodo’s icy left hand. ‘You’ll drink it, won’t you cousin?’ he said. He was encouraged when Frodo turned his head slightly in his direction. ‘That’s right.’ He squeezed the hand again. ‘Keep fighting, cousin. We’ll get through this, yet.’

Looking back to Budgie, he added, ‘Warm some more bricks, whilst you’re at it.’ Budgie nodded, carefully wrapped the right hand once again about Arwen’s jewel, and left the room.

Soon Freddy heard the whistle of the teakettle and the clatter of a lid. ‘Smell that stew,’ he said to Frodo. ‘That’ll hit the spot.’ Frodo smiled faintly, and the cousins sat in silence for a few moments.

Freddy blinked. The lantern-light was flickering, or he was getting sleepy. He felt, rather than saw, a shadow rise, and then Frodo stiffened beside him. Freddy opened his mouth to call out to Budgie, but no sound came forth as the shadow grew before his eyes. He thought he heard a faint hiss as of venomous breath and felt a thin chill that pierced the marrow of his bones, colder than the ice that was Frodo’s left hand.

Freddy felt a warning pounding in his own breast, but he had no thought for himself, only to shield his cousin from approaching menace. He staggered up from his chair and sank down on the bed beside Frodo, circling his cousin with his arms. ‘Fight, Frodo!’ he gasped, forcing out the words against the unreasoning terror that seized him. Frodo’s right hand released the jewel to grasp his arm in desperate hold.

At that moment everything became terribly clear. A tall figure in long robes of grey stood at the foot of the bed, keen and merciless eyes burned in a white face, upon his long and gleaming hair he wore a crowned helm of silver. In one hand he held a long sword, and in the other, gleaming palely, a knife whose blade was notched. ‘Come not between the Nazgul and his prey,’ a cold voice said, though the stern mouth never moved.

‘You cannot have him,’ Freddy shouted, but a mere whisper disturbed the stillness of the night air. ‘Fight, Frodo!’ he begged, and his cousin’s grip intensified, though Frodo’s breath came sharp and fast.

‘You have no more power, you were banished,’ Freddy gasped. A scrap of memory came to him, a voice bodiless and thin that died, and was swallowed up, and was never heard again in that age of this world.

So Frodo wrote, he thought. Was he wrong? And now the voice is heard once more, one last time?

Cold laughter answered him. ‘I left a deed unfinished in the old age,’ the chilling voice mocked, ‘and a new age is dawning... he is mine! I need only end what I started, and I may rest.’ The notched knife glinted with otherworldly light.

Elbereth! Freddy thought, but he could not get the word out. The point of the sword was at his heart, he felt the prick of cold steel, and the wraith smiled cruelly. He would take Frodo, Freddy realised with horror. In spite of all their plans, he would take Frodo and drag him down into the darkness.

At that moment, Samwise burst into the room, shouting, ‘Hold on, Mr Frodo! I’m coming!’ He raced to the chest and flung it open, seizing something within that flared out in a light so brilliant that Freddy gasped and looked away.

Gilthoniel A Elbereth! Sam cried. The pale king quailed before the brightness shining from his hand, falling back as the star-glass drove all shadows from the room.

Freddy found his own voice again. ‘Back!’ he cried. ‘Back to the nameless place whence you came! You have no power here!’

The pale king snarled and Freddy felt the sword bite deeper, but Sam advanced on the fell figure, holding the star-glass before him, crying out.

A Elbereth Gilthoniel
o menel palan-diriel,
le nallon si di’nguruthos!
A tiro nin, Fanuilos!

The wraith fell away, fading before the light, which flared once more in blinding power, then dimmed.

‘O Sam,’ Frodo breathed, his grip on Freddy loosening, his hand falling away.

‘He’s gone, Mr Frodo,’ Sam said, falling to his knees beside the bed. ‘He’s gone.’

‘Sam,’ Frodo said again, and sighed. The light left his eyes, but peace settled upon his countenance. His eyes slowly closed, and he looked as if he were asleep, content and unafraid. Freddy fancied that a pale glimmer came from his cousin, an echo of the light from the fading star-glass, perhaps. The hand with the missing finger rested lightly upon the white jewel.

‘Mr Frodo?’ Sam said, tears spilling from his eyes. ‘Mr Frodo?’

‘He’s won the battle, Sam,’ Freddy said softly. ‘The Shadow did not take him after all.’ His arms tightened about his cousin, and he laid his face upon Frodo’s shoulder and wept.

‘Freddy?’ Budgie’s voice came to him, a tinge of anxiety colouring his usual cheery tone. ‘Mr Freddy?’ A hand took his shoulder in a gentle grasp. ‘Freddy, the day’s arrived.’

Freddy lifted his head, to find himself embracing his pillow, bedcovers tangled about his legs and feet. ‘Budgie?’ he said, confused. Blinking, he formed another question. ‘What—what day?’

‘October the third,’ Budgie said, regarding him intently. The healer circled his fingers around Freddy's wrist. ‘Breakfast is ready, the coach is before the door, and we can set off as soon as you please.’

Freddy moved slowly, stiff and sore, still feeling somehow the lingering chill in his breast from the sword of nightmare. ‘Are you well, Freddy? Are you well enough to do this?’ Budgie said, helping him to sit up with one strong hand while the other continued to hold the wrist in a light but firm grip.

‘I have to do this thing,’ Freddy said. ‘If I had any doubt before, I’ve absolutely no doubts at all, now. And Budgie,’ he added, looking up, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck.

‘Yes, Freddy?’ Budgie said, relaxing as his seeking fingers found a strong, steady pulse in the wrist he held.

‘I don’t know quite how to manage it, but Samwise... he’s got to be there,’ Freddy said.

‘I thought all this was about sparing him the pain of—’ Budgie began, but Freddy shook his head.

‘No,’ he said decisively. ‘No matter what Frodo says... even if we have to conspire with Sam, make Frodo think he’s gone to the farm... Sam must be there.’

Budgie shook his head. ‘You and your “conspiracies”, Mr Freddy,’ he said. ‘If you’re quite sure...’

‘Quite sure,’ Freddy said.

(10/24/2004)

Chapter 67. Errand of Mercy

Freddy and Budgie had planned to depart early in the morning on the third of October and make a slow, easy journey to Bywater, where they’d stay over the evening of the fifth of October, then arrive at Bag End just after the noontide. However, the best-laid plans of Men and Hobbits sometimes come a cropper, especially when a wheel loses a cotter pin and brings a coach to a ruinous halt partway to its destination.

They had put the Oatbarton road behind them, the ponies trotting briskly, the bells on the harness jingling a pleasant song. With just over three miles to the inn where they planned to stop for the night with only one more day of travel before them, there was a sharp crack and the coach jolted violently. ‘Hold tight!’ Freddy shouted, and then they were going over, thrown about as the world spun crazily around them.

The first rescuer, Hobby Grubb, reached them while the wheels on the upturned coach were still spinning slowly. He was travelling from Bywater to Frogmorton to visit relatives, and he saw as if in slow motion the coach tilt to one side and then roll like a carthorse turned out to pasture after a long, hot day of hauling. The driver flung himself free, but his hands were tangled in the lines and the panicked ponies dragged him a ways before Hobby reached them. At great risk to himself, he leaned from the saddle to catch the rein of the nearside lead pony, pulling his own mount down to a walk at the same time.

A farm lad bringing his cows home from pasture ran up then, gasping, and Hobby gave him the lines. ‘Hold them,’ he said tersely, and jumping down from the saddle, ran to where the driver lay panting in the dust of the road, scraped and battered.

’Don’t mind me!’ he gasped. ‘Mr Freddy and Mr Budgie! In the coach!’ Hobby nodded and vaulted into the saddle again, racing his pony to the overturned coach. He rode right up to the battered box and clambered from the saddle onto the side of the vehicle, peering through the window that now faced the sky. ‘Hulloo!’ he cried. ‘Is anyone there?’ A groan answered him. He peered in at the tumbled occupants. ‘Hold tight!’ he shouted. ‘We’ll have you out as soon as we can.’ It would have to be through the window, he thought. The door was flat against the road.

A farmer and his sons came jogging up, ropes over their shoulders; a child had seen the mishap from their yard just down the road a ways and sounded the alarm. Now he handed his youngest boy atop the coach with one of the ropes. ‘Can ye lower him down inside?’ he asked. ‘He can tell us what’s what.’ Hobby nodded and steadied the rope as the boy lowered himself through the window, easing himself carefully down so that he wouldn’t drop on either of the hobbits lying within. Once inside he checked both occupants of the coach.

’They’re alive!’ he shouted up at the watching faces. ‘I cannot tell how badly they’re hurt.’

’What d’you think?’ the farmer asked Hobby. ‘Chop a hole in t’roof or pull them out through t’window?’

’Depends on how badly they’ve been hurt,’ Hobby said. ‘Is there a healer hereabouts?’

The farmer nodded. ‘I sent my Ted off, soon’s we saw the crash. They ought to be here anytime now.’

The driver came hobbling, leaning heavily upon the cowherd. ‘Mr Freddy!’ he shouted. ‘Mr Budgie!’

’They’re alive,’ the farmer told him. ‘Sit yersel’ down afore ye fall down.’

’Budgie,’ one of the injured hobbits muttered, moving his head from side to side.

’Steady now,’ the farm lad told him. ‘Help’s on the way.’ He’d checked for bleeding and found none that was serious, thankfully, but the left arm of the hobbit that hadn’t spoken was obviously broken. He ran his hands down that hobbit’s other limbs, and then checked the limbs of the one that had spoken, just the way he’d seen the healer do when his next-biggest brother had fallen from the roof while making repairs.

He heard his father call out in welcome. ‘Horris!’

’The healer’s arrived,’ he said soothingly to the restless hobbit. ‘Ye’ll be out of here soon.’

Soon the healer’s head appeared in the rectangle of sky above them. ‘Got room?’ Horris said.

’They’re tumbled about for true,’ the lad answered, ‘but if ye watch where you set yer feet they’ll be all right.’ Horris nodded, turned himself about, and had soon lowered himself into the coach, the farmer lowering his supplies after him as soon as he’d alighted. He was a little old cricket of a hobbit, spry and quick, and it wasn’t long before he had the broken arm set and splinted and had checked over both patients thoroughly.

By the time they’d got Mr Freddy and Mr Budgie out of the coach, they were working by torch and lantern light, and Mr Freddy was more than half-awake and fretting over the state of his companion. The rescuers carried the two hobbits and their driver to the farmhouse on makeshift litters and tucked them into the best bed. What need had the farmer and his wife, after all, of their bed, when they’d be up watching with the injured through the night? Any hobbit would have done the same.

Though Hobby was offered a bed as well, he declined. It was his old uncle’s birthday on the morrow, after all, and he determined he’d be there for the birthday breakfast if he had to ride through the night to get there. The farmer’s wife persuaded him to stay to supper, at least, and then the farm family sang him along on his way. What a tale he’d have to tell his relatives on the morrow!

Horris managed to get a sleeping draught into the restless hobbit; the best thing for him was to sleep through the night. He’d be stiff and sore enough in the morning. The healer then spent a good deal of time bathing and dressing the scrapes and abrasions sustained by the driver when he was dragged. In the meantime, the farmer and his neighbours attached lines to the coach so that a team of plough ponies could pull it to the side of the road where it would not present a hazard to any travelling by night, not a common occurrence, but always good to take care.

One of the fine coach-ponies was badly lame, strained by being pulled nearly off its feet when the coach overturned, before the singletree came loose. The farmer’s eldest son rubbed liniment into the trembling muscles and bedded the beast in a deep layer of straw while the next-oldest checked the remaining ponies, feeding and bedding them all the while crooning a soothing tune.

In the middle night, Budgie awakened, groggy and in pain from his broken arm. He would have sat up abruptly had he been able. As it was, he jerked partway upright before sinking back on the pillows with a groan.

’Let that be a lesson to you,’ Horris said sternly. ‘You’re lucky to be among the living this night.’

’Mr Freddy,’ the hobbit whispered.

’He’s asleep, and don’t you be waking him,’ Horris warned. ‘How are you feeling?’

’How do you think I’m feeling?’ the broken-armed hobbit said irritably. He felt the splinted arm with his good hand. ‘Simple or compound?’ he asked.

’You’re a healer?’ Horris said.

’Budgerigar Smallfoot, at your service,’ Budgie said.

’And at your family’s,’ Horris responded. ‘Compound, but I was able to set it properly. It ought to heal true.’

Budgie nodded. ‘How’s Mr Freddy?’ he asked. ‘And the driver? Was either badly hurt?’

’Sleeping like a babe, the both of them,’ Horris answered. ‘I gave them each a draught earlier.’

’How’s Mr Freddy’s heart?’ Budgie said.

’His heart?’ Horris asked. ‘Seemed fine, steady and strong. He has a problem?’

’He’s recovering,’ Budgie said, ‘but I’ve been keeping a close eye on him.’

’Ah,’ Horris said. ‘Well, some rest won’t do him any harm, nor you either.’ He squeezed Budgie’s good arm. ‘Do you think you could manage a draught? That arm ought to be giving you a fair amount of discomfort by now.’

Budgie grinned wryly. ‘Why do we call it “discomfort”?’ he asked. ‘I’d say “pain” is more like.’

Horris grinned back at him. ‘I’d like you to eat something,’ he said, ‘and then I’ll give you a draught to help you sleep and do something for that... pain.’

’Much obliged,’ Budgie said. ‘How’s the coach? We’re due in Bywater on the morrow.’

’You won’t be taking it anywhere soon,’ Horris said. ‘We had to chop it to pieces, for all practical purposes, to get the two of you out.’

’Can we hire a coach?’ Budgie said urgently. ‘We have got to get to Bywater on the morrow, or the day after at the latest.’

Horris patted his good arm. ‘I’ll ask around,’ he said soothingly. ‘Perhaps they have something at one inn, or the other. We’re halfway between inns here. At the least the farmer might be able to drive you to Bywater in the waggon, if the two of you are well enough on the morrow.’

’We had better be,’ Budgie said grimly.

’What is it—a matter of life and death?’ Horris joked, but Budgie did not laugh.

’Something like that,’ he answered.

***

Freddy awakened the next day, hungry, stiff and sore, and groggy from the draught. ‘Budgie?’ he said, blinking his eyes open.

’Right here,’ came Budgie’s voice from beside him. He looked over, to see the healer tucked up on the other pillow, the driver beyond him in the big bed.

’Where are we?’ Freddy asked.

’Farmhouse,’ Budgie answered succinctly. ‘Coach came a cropper and the good folk took us in.’

’What day is it?’ Freddy said, sitting up abruptly and instantly regretting his haste.

’Steady, Freddy,’ Budgie said. ‘It’s the fifth, and there’s still time.’

Freddy eased himself back down, but looked in dismay at the bright sunshine outside the window. ‘How much time?’ he fretted. ‘It looks as if the day’s half over already!’

’It is,’ Horris said, entering with a tray. ‘More than half over, in truth. It’s near teatime.’

’But we’re supposed to be in Bywater this evening,’ Freddy said desperately, ‘and in Hobbiton on the morrow!’

’You won’t be in Bywater by this evening,’ Horris said equably, ‘but we’ll do our best to get you to Hobbiton on the morrow, if you don’t excite yourself too much and have to be confined to bed.’ He laid the tray down on the chest of drawers and then helped Freddy sit up, propping him with pillows. ‘Now I want you to eat every scrap of this good food, and then I’ll check you over once more,’ he said, putting the tray in Freddy’s lap.

’What about me?’ Budgie said. ‘That smells awfully good.’ Freddy glanced at him in disgust, and he smiled grimly. ‘We won’t be any good to Frodo if we’re falling over from hunger and weariness, Freddy. Eat.’

’Your tray is coming, Budgie,’ Horris said. ‘Do you want one of the farmer’s pretty daughters to feed you?’

’Save us!’ Budgie said, rolling his eyes. ‘I have a wife at home.’

’More’s the pity,’ Horris said cheerily. ‘They’re awfully pretty...’

’You just cut up my meat for me, I’ll do the rest,’ Budgie said. ‘Unless you’d like one of them to feed you, Freddy?’

’Spare me,’ Freddy said glumly then applied himself to his meal. The sooner he was done eating, the sooner he could be on his way to Bag End.

As it was, they left after sunset. The farmer drove them himself, in the farm waggon. It was a slow and bumpy ride. Budgie cradled his broken arm and stoically stood the bumps, but when the farmer pulled the waggon to a stop part way, to rest the ponies, the light of the lantern revealed drops of sweat on his face, and he seemed pale to Freddy. ‘Are you well, Budgie?’ he asked anxiously.

’Sam’ll never believe I can take care of you at this rate,’ Budgie muttered, ‘much less his Mr Frodo.’

All the vexation in the world would not get them to Bywater any sooner, but Freddy could not help worrying. They reached Bywater after teatime, and Freddy was near despair. What must Frodo be thinking, if he were not already gripped in the shadows of the past?

Pulling up before the trough in the town square, the farmer turned about. ‘Just let me water them, and we’ll go on,’ he said apologetically. ‘I’m sorry it’s taken this long to get here. They’re good steady ponies, but they’re plough ponies, not cart or carriage beasts.’

Freddy nodded tightly. The farmer had done his best, more than that, he’d driven through the night to accommodate their urgency. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘They need water after pulling us through the night and more than half the day.’

He tried not to fret while they waited their turn at the trough, though he itched to get down from the waggon and walk to Hobbiton and on up the Hill. Were he not so stiff and sore he might have chanced it. His heart was growing ever stronger, after all, or so Budgie kept reassuring him. Finally they were again on their way, the last few miles, to Hobbiton and the Hill beyond.

The ponies were very weary, and it was slow going up the Hill. The Sun was seeking her bed as they pulled up before Bag End, smoke was rising from the chimney and the smell of supper was in the air.

There was no use in pretending. Their original plan was useless. The farmer helped Freddy down from the waggon, and then Budgie. ‘I thank you,’ Freddy said, pressing a handful of silver into the gnarled hands.

’Ye’re welcome, lad,’ the farmer answered. ‘I only hope we got ye here in time.’

’Very kind of you,’ muttered Budgie as the door to Bag End opened, showing a bewildered Rose Gamgee.

’Mr Freddy?’ she said. ‘Budgie? We expected you yesterday...’ She looked beyond to the farm waggon. Sam appeared behind her, holding Ellie.

’We had a little mishap with the coach,’ Freddy said. ‘Farmer Linseed was kind enough to bring us here.’

’Please, let me put up your ponies and stay the night,’ Sam said, handing Ellie to Rose. ‘They look about all in.’

’They’ve come a long ways and that’s a fact,’ Farmer Linseed agreed. ‘Just tell me where to put ‘em and I’ll see to it.’ Samwise directed him to the little stables just past Bag End. ‘I’ll walk with you,’ he said, but Freddy caught at his arm.

’How’s Frodo?’ he asked urgently.

Sam stopped in surprise. ‘That’s right,’ he said slowly, ‘you wouldn’t know. Mr Frodo’s gone.’

Freddy blanched and swayed, and Sam caught him. ‘I’ll take care of the ponies just fine,’ the farmer said hastily. ‘You’d better get him inside.’

Sam brought Freddy into Bag End, settling him in the rocking chair in the kitchen, Budgie hovering close by. ‘Tea, lots of sugar,’ Budgie said. ‘He’s had a shock.’

With Ellie on one hip, Rose poured out tea, adding milk and a goodly amount of sugar. ‘Here you are, Mr Freddy,’ she said encouragingly, handing him the mug. ‘You drink that up now.’

Freddy took the mug and held it as if he didn’t know what to do with it. ‘Gone?’ he repeated. ‘Frodo’s gone?’

 Rose put a gentle hand on his shoulder. ‘Drink up, Mr Freddy,’ she repeated softly.

Freddy raised a stricken face to Sam, his eyes bright with unshed tears. ‘Gone?’ he said again. ‘When did he pass away? Why didn’t you send word?’

’Pass away?’ Sam said, dumbfounded. ‘He didn’t pass away, though he did pass over...’ Slowly it dawned on him. ‘Mr Freddy, he’s not dead!’ he said urgently. ‘He took ship with the elves. I only got back an hour ago, myself, from the Havens, and when I didn’t find you here I planned to send you a message on the morrow.’

’Took ship?’ Freddy said. ‘Sailed with the elves?’ he repeated. The tears brimmed and began to spill down his cheeks.

’I’m sorry, Mr Freddy, I’d’ve sent you word sooner...’ Sam said.

’No, no that’s fine, Sammy,’ Freddy said, still holding his untasted tea. ‘He’s all right then,’ he added. ‘Frodo’s all right.’

’He is indeed, Mr Freddy,’ Samwise said, understanding. ‘Now drink your tea.’

Note to readers: there is supposed to be one more chapter, a wrap-up with Sam and Elanor. However, I am reconsidering and thinking of leaving the story as is. Tell me what you think? Does it leave you wanting? You know that Sam's leaving for the Havens when the story is finished, does it need to be spelt out? Or is this ending a proper closure for this very long story...? Your opinions will be taken into serious consideration, as I am quite undecided on the matter.

Chapter 68. Farewell Words

The Gamgees had a second supper with the travellers, Sam and Farmer Linseed talking about the harvest while Freddy and Budgie sat silent, for the most part. After supper, Farmer Linseed excused himself; a farmer goes early to bed, after all. Rosie deposited Elanor in “Uncle Freddy’s” lap, and they played “peek-boo” while she and Sam stacked dishes for washing and Budgie finished his tea.

’I’ll get to these soon enough,’ Rose said when the dishes were ready. She came over to take Elanor from a reluctant Freddy. ‘Time for wee ‘uns to seek the pillow; the Sun’s already found hers.’ She settled in the rocking chair by the hearth and began to croon a song to the little one; she’d nurse Ellie as soon as the others were out of the room.

’Come with me to the study, Mr Freddy,’ Sam said, a hand on the gentlehobbit’s arm. Budgie trailed along.

The large book with the cover of red leather reposed in solitary splendour in the centre of the desk. Freddy could not remember a time when the desk had not overflowed with papers: scribbled pages, maps half-drawn, notations and sketches. Freddy opened the front cover slowly and began to page through, in wonder, stopping on occasion to look at a drawing or to read a phrase. Bilbo’s spidery scrawl gave way to Frodo’s firm flowing script. He stopped, transfixed, his eyes drawn to a sketch of the witch king as Frodo had seen him on Weathertop.

’I dreamed...’ he said, beginning to tremble.

Sam pushed the chair up behind him. ‘Sit down, Mr Freddy,’ he said firmly. Freddy sank into the chair, and Budgie started forward in concern, but Freddy waved him away.

’I dreamed that the—the Dark Captain came with the shadows to take Frodo,’ Freddy said faintly.

’Why Mr Freddy, I thought you knew better,’ Sam reproached. ‘He’s dead and gone, cast out of the world when Mr Merry’s sword broke the spell that knit his will to his body.’

’Shadow’s not gone, though,’ Freddy said, looking up from the picture. ‘Gandalf said it always returns to take shape again...’ The memory of Shadow that threatened Frodo—had it found him and dragged him down at the last?

’Mr Frodo’s beyond that now,’ Sam said, as if following Freddy’s thought. ‘He’s gone out of Middle-earth completely, where Shadow cannot reach, where all is light and light is all.’ He smiled. ‘Master Elrond gave him something to drink, when we reached the Havens. He said it would make his heart strong again, and that he’d have a good, long time to enjoy Elvenhome.’

'Then he could have stayed!' Freddy exclaimed.

'No,' Sam shook his head, casting down his eyes. 'The shadow would only have dragged him down again. What Saruman said was true... not long life, and not health, not so long as he remained in Middle-earth.' He raised his eyes and said wistfully, 'He wanted to stay, how he wanted it... but he thought he'd grieve us less by going, than by staying and cutting his life short. He'll live long and well where he's gone... and someday, perhaps...'

Freddy nodded. 'Someday,' he said softly. 'A fine promise, something to look forward to all your life.'

'And no worries that his heart will give out on him, in the meantime,' Sam said.

’You knew about his heart?’ Budgie asked.

Sam chuckled. ‘We had a long ride to the Havens, Mr Frodo and I,’ he said, ‘and a lot of time to talk.’ He cocked an eye at Freddy. ‘I know all about your little plan,’ he said. ‘Did you think you’d get me away from Mr Frodo so easily?’
 
’I was going to deceive Frodo,’ Freddy confessed. ‘I was going to have you wait in the kitchen until he was under the shadow, ready to come the moment you were needed.’ He stared down at the witch king again.

’If only to say good-bye,’ Sam said quietly. ‘I appreciate that, Mr Freddy.’ He smiled. ‘You’re going to have to get out of the habit of deceiving folk.’

’I’m out of the habit,’ Freddy said. ‘Believe me, I aim to have no secrets from anyone, anymore.’

’Mr Frodo left you a letter,’ Sam said, turning the page with the witch king over, turning more pages, passing illustrations of Rivendell, Caradhras, Moria, Lorien, Minas Tirith under siege, as well as people: Men, Hobbits, Elves, a Dwarf, Orcs. He stopped finally at a place near the end of the book, marked by an envelope. As Sam lifted the letter and extended it to Freddy, the picture underneath was revealed: two small figures, drawn in silhouette, one crouching under a low rock-face, the other standing looking at the sky, where a single star peeped out from a small opening in clouds. The text beneath the drawing caught Freddy’s eye.

Far above the Ephel Duath in the West the night-sky was still dim and pale. There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.
 
’Forever beyond its reach,’ Freddy said softly, and Sam nodded.

’Yes, Mr Frodo is forever beyond its reach,’ he said. ‘He left this for you, Mr Freddy.’

Freddy opened the envelope, extracting several folded sheets, and began to read.

My dearest cousin,

I have sent off my birthday presents in good time, I think. They ought to reach you on the proper day, for my timing is as ever impeccable. Not bad for a half-senile, ancient and venerable cousin, eh?

Our plan remains unchanged, I hope. Sam suspects nothing, though I find myself sleeping a little more than I was. My health continues as it was when last I saw you, thanks to Budgie’s good advice and strengthening tonic, I’m sure. Perhaps our worries are overblown, at least for this anniversary. We shall have a good laugh afterwards if our plans come to naught!

Here the writing changed, as if the writer had been interrupted.

A most extraordinary thing has happened, Freddy, and I hardly know how to break the news to you! A letter has come from Gandalf, via Barliman Butterbur... Bilbo is sailing with the elves, and the decision is upon me. Do I stay, to die and lie in the soil of the Shire I love, or do I go with Bilbo, to live the rest of my days far from my home and those I love, save one beloved elderly cousin? Is there really any choice to be made?

And so, Freddy, this is farewell. There is no time to send word to anyone—I must be leaving on the morrow, or the day after at the latest, and there is so much to be done, yet I must not strain my heart in frenzied activity, lest I never come to the Havens at all! I cannot give you a farewell hug, but only write notes to you, Merry, and Pip, and my faithful Samwise will bring word to you after he sees me off. I’m glad, so very glad that he can see me off, into light and not into shadow...

I am tiring, I fear, and have yet to write to Merry and Pippin, so I must close. What shall be my last scrap of cousinly advice? I do so wish I had been able to stand up with you at your wedding, as you asked me before the Quest began—that’s it! “Laugh long, Live long, Love forever!” Go, and marry the girl... but do not burden any of your little ones with “Frodovar” or “Frodogar” or any such absurdity. And think sometimes, when you hold a little one in your lap, or sip a mug of a fine brew, or see the Shire clad in her finest gown, yes, dear cousin, think of your ancient and venerable cousin, who will surely be thinking fondly of you,

Frodo

The "ayes" have it, but I'll have you know I had to bribe the Muse with pina coladas and dark chocolate to get her to add another chapter. She was resigned to writing a final scene with Elanor and Sam, it is on the outline after all, but this chapter, which follows below, is all-new material... so enjoy. 

Epilogue

’Well, Midge, you look almost passable,’ Freddy said with a faint sense of shock. Little Estella had grown up and was looking more than passable. Half the unattached hobbits at the celebration would have been vying for her attention, had not the Thain made it clear to his son that his duty was to be by Estella’s side for the entire day. Pippin seemed to be bearing up well, for the Midge was a lively companion and nearly as mischievous as himself. Now the Thain called his son away from the wedding breakfast for a last-moment consultation, and Estella let the bright smile drop.

Melilot squeezed Freddy’s hand and nodded past him, at Estella. Taking her hint, he turned to his sister. ‘What is it, Babe?’ he asked softly. ‘What’s got you looking so sour?’

’That Merry Brandybuck is one of your closest friends and yet he cannot be bothered to come to your wedding! I thought he was to stand up with you... but he is not even here!’

’And a roast cannot be served without a side-dish, is that the case?’ Freddy said. He patted Estella’s hand. ‘Pippin has offered to stand in for our errant cousin, Midge, and I have gratefully accepted.’ She bridled. ‘Well what should I have done? Stood alone? Made it obvious that I could not find anyone to stand up with me?’

He turned to Melilot. ‘I’m sorry, my dear, but my family does not seem to approve of our union. One cousin sailed away to avoid his responsibility, and the other took himself off for a long ride... where did you say he went?’

’Rohan,’ Melilot answered. ‘Perhaps we should run off together and spare the sensibilities of society’s critics.’

’A tempting idea,’ Freddy said. ‘Tell me, what other tricks do you Brandybucks have up your sleeves? Is someone going to step forward in the midst of the ceremony and shout his objections?’

’That was supposed to be a surprise,’ Melilot pouted. ‘However did you guess?’

Freddy laughed, but Estella was not amused. ‘To think that ever-so proper Meriadoc B. would shirk his responsibility...’ she said.

’Beloved sister,’ Freddy said, dropping Melilot’s hand and his voice at the same time, turning to place his hands on Estella’s shoulders. ‘Do desist before I give in to the temptation to shake some sense into you. If it makes you feel any better, I’m the one who told Merry to go off and not put himself through the torture of a wedding. He’s still grieving the loss of his true-love, after all.’ Merry’s intended had died on their wedding-eve when an earthen dam broke and the resulting flood swept away a waggon full of celebrating hobbits, and Merry’s hopes and dreams.

’That’s torn it; the tongues are wagging now,’ Melilot said low behind him. Freddy turned back in surprise, and she offered him her hand, one eloquent eyebrow raised. ‘You’re supposed to hold my hand through the entire wedding breakfast, you know, or else the gossips will think we’ve quarrelled.’

’Then let us not disappoint them,’ Freddy answered, taking up her hand again. ‘What shall we quarrel about?’

’Hmmm, a difficult topic,’ Melilot mused. ‘So much to choose from. What do you suggest?’

’How about the name of our first son?’ Freddy answered. ‘That’s a lovely topic for long discussion and offers hours of diversion and disagreement.’

’Very well, why don’t you go first?’ Melilot said, a smile dimpling her cheeks.

’What do you think of...’ Freddy paused for a dramatic moment. ‘Frodovar?’

’Frodovar?’ Melilot laughed. ‘A Baggins name with a Bolger twist! How absurd... and yet, I like it! What d’you think Frodo would say?’

’He was the one to suggest it,’ Freddy said, then raised her hand to his lips. ‘There,’ he said. ‘Gossips satisfied. A quarrel, and the making-up, all within the scope of a single wedding breakfast.’

’What are we talking about?’ Pippin said brightly, returning to his seat between Freddy and Estella, who once again had pasted on a brilliant smile for Pippin’s sake.

’About your dereliction of duty,’ Freddy returned. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be offering a toast about now?’

’Was I?’ Pippin said in mock astonishment. ‘Honestly, Freddy, you’ll have to walk me through this step-by-step, you know. I’ve never stood up for anyone at a wedding before. Wouldn’t be here now, excepting I was passing by the Hall and someone took me by the collar and dragged me in.’

’Good thing you were wearing your best,’ Melilot said, eyeing the shining mail and elegant black surcoat with the Tree of Gondor broidered in silver on the breast.

’Serendipity, my dear,’ Pippin said serenely, taking a sip of his wine and then dabbing at his mouth with his serviette. ‘Ah yes, quite satisfactory,’ he said, picking up the glass again and rising to his feet. ‘A toast!’ he cried, and the call was taken up by the rest of the hobbits in the great room.

Freddy smiled into Melly’s eyes, hearing another beloved cousin’s voice ringing through the ritual words. He could almost hear Frodo calling, ‘Laugh long! Live long! Love forever!’

'Same to you, cousin,' he whispered. 'Same to you.'

 Very rough draft--my editor has not yet seen this. Therefore, this is subject to change. Comments welcome.

***

Chapter 70. Pause, and Full Stop

There was a general sigh as Sam fell silent. The fire popped and the log on the hearth split, sending up a shower of sparks.

’And that’s the end?’ Elanor said softly. ‘They lived happily for ever after?’

’O Ellie!’ Rose said. ‘It’s not as if it were a fairy tale; why, there were no dragons slain!’

’There were knights in shining armour,’ Fastred said, tapping out his pipe.

Sam stretched. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘it’s late, and I expect Leot and Rose will be herding their lambs back to Greenholm on the morrow.’

’Quite a little flock,’ Leot said, and hesitated. At Rose’s nod, he added, ‘and another due in the new year.’

’When?’ Sam said after the first shower of congratulations had fallen.

’Mid-summer, perhaps,’ Rose said with a pretty blush. ‘Or a little earlier, but wouldn’t it be grand to be born on Mid-year’s day and think all the celebrations were for you ever afterwards?’

’I think you ought to hold the babe to it,’ Fastred drawled. ‘It’s for his own good, after all.’

’Or hers,’ Rose said with a smile. ‘But I think we’ll let the little one decide when’s the best time to come, seeing as how it’s probably our last.’

’Do you have a name picked out?’ Sam asked. It bothered him to know he’d have a grandchild and not know its name. Of course, there would be more born, to Farry and Goldi, to the others, to Tolman and his new bride...

’Sam-Dad!’ Rose laughed. ‘However could we choose a name so far ahead of time, before we even meet the little mite and find out what sort of hobbit we have?’

Fastred looked grave, but smiled when he caught Ellie’s eye upon him. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘Better get these little ‘uns to bed now. Kiss your gran-dad, and give him your best hugs! He’s read his heart out to you, these past days, and you ought to pay him well for all his effort.’

Sam was caught in a flood of hugs and a veritable deluge of kisses, and he closed his eyes, the better to pleasurably drown in the feeling while it lasted. When he opened his eyes again, his wrinkled cheeks were wet with tears. ‘I love all of you more than I love my own life,’ he said quietly. ‘You are my treasure, you know. Don’t ever forget that.’

’O gran-dad!’ Elfstan laughed. ‘As if we won’t see you at Yule in Bag End!’

’Stan,’ Fastred reproved. Life is uncertain, his look said. Your Grand-ma Rose is gone, after all, and we’ll never see her at another Yule. Elfstan ducked his head, but raised his face resolutely to apologise.

’No harm done,’ Sam said, with another hug for his eldest grandchild. ‘My you’re growing tall!’ he added. ‘You’ll be married, with your own brood, before we know it.’

’If you had just one piece of advice to offer them, what would it be?’ Leot asked suddenly, his arm tightening about Rose. Fastred met his gaze, and he nodded slightly.

Sam’s face crinkled in a smile. ‘Make the most of all the days that are given you, and always count your blessings,’ he said. ‘Easy enough to say.’

’But wait!’ young Tolman said. ‘You haven’t told us who finished the writing yet!’

’Haven’t you guessed?’ Sam said.

’You said it wasn’t Mr Merry,’ Lily said slowly. ‘And you said you only did a little.’

’It was Mr Freddy,’ Sam said after a pause with no more guesses, and there was a chorus of disbelief.

’How could it be, with him being gone more than ten years!’ Frodo-lad said.

’You did say that Ruby found these pages “the other day”,’ Elanor reminded Sam.

Sam laughed. ‘Ah, Ellie!’ he said. ‘I’m that sorry to have misled you. It seems like just the other day, for the years go by as fast as days when you’re as old as I am... it must have been more like fifteen or twenty years ago, before Mr Freddy left for Gondor with all his family and Budgie’s besides.’

’Sailed away on a ship, never to be seen again,’ Lily sighed romantically.

’Well, not quite that way, lass,’ Sam said. ‘He didn’t sail over the Sea, but down the Brandywine in one of the King’s ships, more like.’

’Probably alive and well in the White City,’ Fastred said.

’No doubt,’ Sam answered. ‘We’ve heard naught to the contrary, any road.’ He opened the cover of the Red Book, riffling through the pages once more, stopping occasionally to look at a picture or phrase, then closed the book firmly and placed it on the shelf. ‘There,’ he said. ‘There’s even a place for it, just as if you’d been waiting for it.’

’We were hoping for a copy someday,’ Elanor said. ‘Tolman promised to write one out for us. He’s a fine hand at draughting, and I was astounded at the fine copies he was making of the illustrations.’

’As it is, he’s written out a copy for Bag End,’ Sam said, ‘and is starting to make a copy for Greenholm...’

’That’s good news,’ Leot said, and Rose added her agreement.

’But...’ Sam said, and stopped.

’What is it, Sam-dad?’ Elanor said.

’Let us wait until the children are abed,’ Sam answered, and would say no more. He went about the smial, tucking each of the grandchildren into their beds, taking the time to kiss each cheek and to lay a blessing upon each forehead.

When he returned to the parlour, the fire had been mended and Elanor had poured out brandy for all the adults save Rose, who sipped cider instead. ‘The Hall’s finest!’ she announced. ‘Care of the Master of Buckland.’

’To Meriadoc the Magnificent!’ Sam said, raising his glass. The others cried, ‘Hear! Hear!’ and joined him in the toast.

’To Peregrin the Bold!’ Fastred contributed.

’To Samwise the Brave!’ Leot said with a smile, remembering a conversation in the Red Book.

When these two toasts had been drunk, Sam raised his glass once more. ‘To Frodo,’ he said simply, and all drank after a thoughtful pause.

’What was it you wanted to talk to us about, Dad?’ Elanor said as they put their glasses down.

Sam started. ‘What, eh? Ellie?’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, I got lost in a thought.’ He looked puzzled a moment, then his face cleared and he said, ‘O yes, I remember.’

’What was it, Dad?’ Rose said.

’That lost part is so dark,’ Sam said at last. ‘So very dark. I’m not sure Mr Merry would approve of the descriptions of hanging and torture. There was a lot he left out of his account, he and Mr Pippin...’

’And a lot you left out, and Mr Frodo as well,’ Ellie said softly.

’Yes, Ellie,’ Sam said. ‘I kept these pages out, kept them hidden away for years after Mr Freddy sent them back to me, finished. I’d found them, you know, and read them over, and thought he’d like to see them. I never thought he’d finish the story and send it back to me, but he did!’

’He must have thought them important,’ Fastred said.

’Well, they do tell much more of Mr Freddy’s story than ended up in the Red Book,’ Sam responded. ‘After all, Mr Frodo was ill when he wrote the last part, and it must have disheartened him to have written it out once already and lost it. He wrote as much as he was able, though it wasn’t much, compared to what was lost.’

’You kept them out...’ Elanor prompted.

’Yes, that’s right, Ellie, I kept them out. They’re not in the copy at Bag End, and so they won’t be in any copies made from that book. Tolman hasn’t even seen them; I pasted them into the Red Book after he’d finished making his copy.’ He took a deep breath and added, ‘And I’m tempted to cut them out again, and throw them on the fire, but for all the work Mr Frodo and Mr Freddy put into them.’

’O no, Dad, don’t!’ Rose cried instinctively, and Elanor nodded with a sober face.

’No,’ Fastred said firmly. ‘Let us not throw away our history. We know from our own experience that Men’s hearts tend towards evil,’ he added. ‘But let us not throw out the record for fear of the tainting of hobbit hearts.’ He looked intently at Sam. ‘D’you think we’ve been spoiled by the hearing?’

’You’re much too sensible for that, I hope,’ Sam said.

Fastred nodded. ‘You’re right,’ he said stoutly. ‘We’ll keep it from the younger children, of course, until they’re of an age to understand and reject the wrong.’

’Good,’ Sam said. ‘I leave it in your hands. I’m too old and tired to make such a decision, anyhow.’

’Then why not seek your bed, Dad,’ Elanor said softly. ‘I tucked a few hot bricks in whilst you were saying good-bye to the children... I mean, “good night”,’ she corrected herself in a rush, with a blush for her blunder.

’I’ll do that,’ Sam said. He hugged each of his beloved children in turn, Rose, her sturdy Leotred; Fastred, capable Warden of Westmarch, and finally, his Ellie.

’Greet Mr Frodo for me,’ she whispered in his ear. He put her away, looked long into her face, smiled, and nodded.

In the morning when the Fairbairns arose, he was already gone.

***

The excitement of the arrival was behind them, the bustle of unloading the ship left to ageless elves. The elderly hobbits had wandered hand-in-hand from the quay and now sat beneath the shade of a golden-leafed tree, sipping a refreshing drink, catching up on news—o so much news to tell! Years, it would take, to tell it all...

’He named his firstborn “Frodovar”? Frodo laughed in astonishment.

‘You should have heard the Bolgers!’ Sam chuckled. ‘But then, of course, it smoothed the way for “Merivar” and “Perevar” to follow.’

’Did it?’ Frodo said. ‘I wonder!’

’Mr Freddy could not quite convince Mistress Mellie to name Perevar “Pippivar”, try as he might,’ Sam added, and Frodo laughed again, loud and long.

’A fine sound,’ a voice said above them, and they looked up to see the Lady Galadriel smiling upon them. ‘The welcoming feast is laid,’ she added, ‘and lacks only one thing.’

’And what is that, my Lady,’ Frodo said politely, as he and Sam rose and bowed. She held out a hand to each, smiling from one face to another.

’Can you not guess?’ she laughed. ‘The guest of honour, of course!’

’Then we must supply one, indeed!’ Frodo said cheerily. ‘Are you with me, Sam?’

Sam took Galadriel’s other hand. ’Coming, Mr Frodo,’ he said.

11/13: Finished, I think, pending editor's approval. Will let you know what she says.

11/12: Hoorah. Have wrestled the final chapters to the ground. I am now pondering whether there will be a final chapter with Sam taking his leave from Elanor, or if I will just leave the story "as is". Got any opinion? Comments are welcome.

11/11: (Anguished moan) These last few chapters are torture. I feel like cutting out all this emotional wallowing and just *ending* the thing. The Muse insists that all this is quite necessary, so I will withhold the cutting blade for the nonce, at least until I reach the end and go back through the story again. The last few chapters have run so long that I have ended up splitting several of them (for example, chapters 65 and 66 were once one lo-o-o-o-o-o-ong chapter. My attention span is too short to tolerate such.) Dad, I'm thinking of you this Veteran's Day. I miss you. Bet you'd still laugh at me when I read a sad story and get a tear in my eye... and now that I'm *writing* sad stories I can only imagine what you'd say!

11/8: Ran Chapter 63 past Jodancingtree, who is my guide to Frodo and Sam characterizations (I think I've got Pippin and Merry down, but Sam and Frodo still make me nervous when I have to write them) and she suggested a little change. My editor agrees, having gone so far as to craft Jo's suggestion even further, and so, if you've already read ch 63, know that it changes a bit.

11/7: Chapter 63 is in the works, just to let you know. If I can finish it during my lunch break I will post it today.

10/27: The chapter numbers are fixed. I had a bad moment this morning when I was thinking about having to fix them on ffnet, but remembered that I'm not posting this there, yet, until my editor has a chance to go over it... and of course, astute readers who comment on flaws that need fixing!

A chapter split itself into two over the weekend, but there are still only ten or so more chapters on the outline. We shall see what evolves.

10/25: Ahem. It has been pointed out that there are two chapter 42s! This will take a bit of time to fix. My editor missed this, being too busy changing "laying" to "lying" and "survived" to "rallied" and other such niceties of grammar and nuances of meaning. We had a good laugh together, wondering if a beta reader might miss it as well. As it was it took an astute reviewer!

10/24: Though there will be high points yet, such as the wedding, the bittersweet is growing. This story, is, after all, canon. Got a challenge for you. Can you figure out Frodo's malady? No prize, just the satisfaction that you're a good clue reader. Clues will be sprinkled into upcoming chapters. No, it is not all supernatural or Ring-deprivation (somehow that never satisfied me as an explanation for why Frodo had to leave). I'll tell you if you guess correctly.

Comments are always welcome. This is a draft. See sign. :::Under construction: Author at Work:::

As an aside, I figured out in the shower this morning how to re-write parts of "Jewels" to make Estella her proper age. I do my best thinking in the shower, wish we had a larger hot water tank! What a relief! (Edited: trying to re-write and change Estella's age made me lose my grasp on the characters' relationships and their "voices" in interaction... I think, at the moment, her age will stay the same)

10/23: Those of you who are saying, 'Wait a minute, more angst? What is this? Why are you picking on Merry?' after reading chapter 46, well, I am bringing this story in line with an earlier work of mine, "Jewels", which is not yet on SoA. You can find the edited draft on Fanfiction.net. It is undergoing some changes as I incorporate the beta comments (I am way behind on this, sorry Jen and Katakanadian, I just seem to use up all my time writing new material... *got* to get back to beta-work, I know.), but the gist of the story will remain the same. Anyhow, as I get the beta comments incorporated, I plan to put "Jewels" up here, as soon as I finish putting up "Where the Merlin Cries". So much to do, so little time!

10/21: The next six chapters are fully outlined and ready to write, and there isn't too much to the story after that, as far as I can tell (another five chapters? perhaps. There is a rough outline not broken into chapters yet). We are making progress. My editor tells me I am managing not to be too terribly wordy this time, and may keep chapters 38 and 39 since readers seem to like them. Thanks for your input!

I am not yet sure if chapters 38 and 39 will remain in the story. They are mostly background information, explaining in my own head why Estella changes so drastically. I do this a lot when I write, create stuff that is "background" as a kind of map or guide, though it never appears in a story, since it might slow things down or divert the storyline from the main plot.

Anyhow, you were aware that this is a draft, weren't you? Here you get to see the writing process at work.

If this is driving you crazy, then wait until all the kinks are ironed out by my editor and beta reader. The final version will hopefully be posted eventually, labelled as such.

Comments are welcome. Who knows, people might actually like chapters 38 and 39...