This is (sort of) a sequel to the events in A Tale That Grew in the Telling or, more accurately, the real events that Sam’s “made up” story was based on. This story is pre-quest and takes place a little over a year after A Tale.
 
 
 
 
 

A Mid-Year’s Walking Trip

Frodo is 44, Sam 33, Pippin 23, and Merry has just turned 31. (About 28, 21, 15, and 19 in Man years)
 

Chapter 1

7 Afterlithe, 1413 SR

The mid-summer sun was beaming down ruthlessly over the Shire, and everyone who could get out of the heat did so happily. No one worked – or worked very hard – when the sun was so blaringly hot, and the only hobbits that could be seen were lounging under trees or dangling their feet in The Water.

Up in the cozy, but nonetheless stuffy, comforts of Bag End, Sam was spending the hot summer hours helping the Master of the Hill pack for his annual mid-year walking trip. Or at least, he was supposed to be helping. What he was really doing was fretting like a mother hen.

“It’s awful warm this time of year, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said for what was easily the eighth time that day. “Folk were passing out all over at the Free Fair, and them just sitting there. Mayhap you should wait a week or two until it cools down some. What if you get heat stroke and pass out like poor Widow Rumble did?”

“I’m taking water with me, Sam,” Frodo replied, hiding the annoyance he felt with effort. He held up a handful of water skins to prove his point. They weren’t full yet of course, but he would fill them at the well tonight before he left. “Besides, I’m only going to Bindbole Wood. That’s not even a day’s walk from here and I’ll be hiking at night.”

“Do you really want to be going there, sir, begging your pardon?” Sam asked. He took the water skins from Frodo and scrutinized the seams for weaknesses and leaks. “I hear tell there’s bogs in them woods, and they’re unpleasant things.”

“I shall stay away from the bogs then.”

“But should you really go at night, sir? What if there’s somewhat on the ground and you can’t see it acause it’s dark and you fall and hurt yourself? What if you sprain your ankle and you can’t walk and you’re stuck out there in the heat all day with no water and no help?”

Frodo sighed tiredly and took the water skins back from his gardener and tossed them upon the bed, where everything was spread out and waiting to be packed. “Honestly Sam, if I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think you didn’t want me to go at all,” he said, trying to speak lightly, but sounding irritated all the same.

Sam looked at him intently, undeterred by his master’s cross mood. “Well, now as you mention it…”

Frodo squatted on the floor and began folding his sleeping roll, which he had let out to air the day before. He concentrated on his task, so as not to snap at his gardener instead. He wasn’t surprised this was happening really. He had noticed Sam’s ever-increasing agitation over the past few weeks and when he started asking questions about the trip, Frodo knew there was going to be trouble.

This was all because of what happened during last year’s walking trip. Frodo had taken his trip early, in the Spring, and had been caught out in an unseasonably strong rainstorm. He had been waylaid for over a week as a result of that storm and other unforeseen events. Now Sam was worrying himself sick thinking about every horrible thing that might possibly go wrong on this year’s trip. He had noted at least twice in as many days that this trip was actually late, what with the Free Fair and Frodo’s obligation as family to attend for the election of the Mayor. Would going late cause as many unforeseen disasters as going early had caused the year before? Sam didn’t like to think it.

If it came right down to it, Frodo would just order Sam along and put the poor lad’s mind to ease, but he was hoping he wouldn’t have to do that. He quite enjoyed these trips, as they were the only opportunity he had to get away from the scrutinizing public – and his even more scrutinizing friends. He had hoped that staying away from the Bounds and only going a day’s walk away would permit Sam to relax about the whole affair. He realized now his error in this. Sam would never be able to relax when it came to his safety.

“It’s just, those bogs are nasty places,” Sam continued now as he stared down bemusedly at his master’s bent head. “I heard that some of them, you can’t even tell as they’re bogs. They’re invisible-like, and those are the worst. They say the ground’s so saturated, you just sink right through and are never seen again.”

“Really? And who says that Sam, if they’re never seen again?” Frodo asked as he bound the straps to his sleeping roll. He moved on to securing the already-folded tent and sleeping roll to his pack, still finding the need for distraction.

“It’s common enough knowledge,” Sam defended. “And what if you walk into one them invisible bogs and there’s no one there to help you get out? You really shouldn’t go alone, sir.”

“Sam,” Frodo sighed wearily. He stood up and clapped his friend’s shoulder and gripped it reassuringly. “I’m going to be fine. You can’t watch after me all the time, nor do you need to. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, and it’s not as if this is the first time I’ve gone for a hike there.”

“I know that, sir. You went with Mr. Bilbo last time. With Mr. Bilbo. He knew not to go in there alone.”

“You told me your friend Robin went into Bindbole just last year,” Frodo pointed out.

“With the Shirriffs,” Sam reminded evenly. “And he stuck to the paths.”

“This isn’t the Old Forest full of imaginary ghosts and monsters. It’s just a regular forest, full of regular trees and regular bogs,” Frodo continued, fighting to keep the calmness in his voice. “I know what I’m doing.”

Sam nodded, but the worry remained in his eyes. “I know you do sir, but last year…”

“Last year was last year. It’s over and done. This is now,” Frodo said gently. “I’ll keep my feet under me, my walking stick ahead of me, and my water skins full. I’ll keep a good hundred yards between me and anything that can possibly resemble a threat, I promise. Besides, it’s only a three-day hike. There is no way anything can go wrong with this trip.”  

“What if Frodo doesn’t let us come?” Pippin asked worriedly and adjusted the weight of the pack on his shoulders as he and Merry walked up the Hill.

“We’ll go anyway,” Merry answered. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it? There’s nothing he can do to stop us, short of tying us up in sacks.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

“Pippin, don’t be silly. There is no way Frodo could possibly tie us both into sacks. … Maybe we’ll just make sure we’re never alone with him.”

“Good idea.”

They have been planning this for months, since Frodo’s last birthday to be exact. After the fiasco that last year’s adventure had turned into for their cousin, they weren’t about to let him have any more fun without them. It was only fair really, after all their years of waiting. Frodo was forever telling them that one day he would take them on one of his walking trips rather than the usual one-day hikes they would occasionally accompany him on, and yet every year he came up with one excuse or another why they couldn’t come or why he had forgotten to invite them. Well, they were through waiting for an invitation. They were going, whether Frodo would have them or not.

They were bound to be met with opposition of course. Frodo was guaranteed to be unappreciative of their concern and might even interpret it as an intrusion, so Merry thought it would be best to arrive fully prepared for the journey, both with packs and counterpoints. They had everything they could possibly need for a trip, and Merry had even checked with his Uncle Merimac to make sure he had not overlooked anything.

As for counterpoints, Merry had constructed a list of answers to all of Frodo’s concerns. For one, they would not have to impose on Frodo for supplies or food, since they already had their own. Two, Frodo would not have to wait for them to get their things into order and so would not be delayed in the slightest. Three, by being prepared, it showed they were responsible and therefore dependable. Frodo wouldn’t have to worry about looking after them or have to fear about them being a burden. Four, Frodo had promised. Five, they were there only to help and enjoy each other’s company, and what was really so wrong with that?

Merry went through this in his mind and tried to think of any other arguments Frodo might possibly come up with. He had to be able to dispel them as Frodo brought them up and if he hesitated for even a moment, he knew Frodo would win his point. Not that it would matter in the end. He and Pippin were going and there was nothing else for it.

“But what if he sends word back home that we weren’t really invited along?” Pippin asked now, interrupting Merry’s thoughts. He didn’t like lying to his parents, though of course that never stopped him from doing so when it was absolutely necessary.

“Why would he do that? If Frodo wants to punish us, he could do that well enough himself,” Merry replied, not very reassuringly.

They reached their destination and entered through the familiar gate. Merry gave Pippin the honor of pulling the bell, and they readied themselves to greet their cousin cheerily. A minute passed. Merry and Pippin frowned at each other. They weren’t too late were they? Pippin pulled on the bell again and now they heard someone running to answer. They stood up, ready and determined, as the door swung open.

“Frodo!”

“You’re not Frodo.”

“Mr. Merry? Master Pippin? Was Mr. Frodo expecting you?” Sam asked as he let them inside.

“Not at all. Actually, we’re here to surprise our dear old cousin,” Pippin explained as he and Merry relieved themselves of their packs and stretched their backs.

Merry took out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat off his brow and neck. “We haven’t missed him, have we?”

“He’s here,” Sam said, feeling rather surprised himself, but he knew better than to say anything about it. He figured he would find out soon enough what was going on anyway. “Mr. Frodo’s just packing, getting himself ready.”

“Wonderful,” Merry exclaimed. “We’d better say hello and get this over with, Pip.”

They left their bags in the entrance hall for now and marched resolutely down the tunnel to Frodo’s room. Sam quickly shoved their packs out of the way against the wall and closed the door. He then went to the kitchen to start preparing luncheon. His master’s cousins were always hungry when they arrived, especially when they walked from Tookland, and packing for a journey always made his master extra hungry as well. Besides, Sam suspected that the discussion taking place in the bedroom was strictly a family affair and he had no place in it.  

Frodo was beginning to stuff his travel pack when a knock rapped on the door behind him. “So who was it Sam? Did you send them away?” he asked without turning around.

“He didn’t actually. He’s grown quite lax in his duties. You should let him go,” Pippin said.

“Good day, Cousin,” Merry added.

Frodo whirled around and faced his cousins in surprise. They grinned at him, proudly unforgiving, and braced themselves for the inevitable. Even if this Baggins was not as predictable as most, they knew him well enough to guess what was going through his mind, or what would be going through his mind once he figured out why they were there.

Frodo quickly composed himself. Whatever reason for his cousins’ presence, he couldn’t take out his frustration at Sam on them, even if their sudden arrival was rather suspicious. “Good day, Cousins,” he greeted cordially. “If you’ve come for a visit, I’m afraid your timing is rather poor. I won’t be here.”

“Clearly,” Pippin said, taking in the items strewn about the room and bed. “Unless you’re going for a new look in here. Are you trying to punish Sam? He’ll never be able to keep it clean in this state.”

“Sam is not a smial servant,” Frodo replied, his previous annoyance flaring up again. Why did it seem that every time his cousins came to visit, they had this same conversation in one form or another? “It is not his job to look after the smial and you know it. The only one who keeps it clean is me.”

“Well, you’re doing a very poor job of it,” Merry stated matter-of-factly at the same time Pippin asked, “Then why is he making luncheon?”

“Really, Pippin, you’d rather eat Frodo’s cooking?” Merry said.

Frodo decided to ignore this last comment. He went back to his packing, which Merry and Pippin took as their cue to enter the room and make themselves comfortable. They found a patch of the bed that was free of camp gear and sat down so they were facing Frodo.

“Very well,” Frodo said at last, continuing their earlier topic of conversation. “You may stay here tonight, as I am sure you are tired after your journey. You’ll have to leave first thing in the morning though. I won’t have you here bothering Sam from his work while I’m gone.”

“Of course,” Pippin agreed. “That’s what we were going to do anyway. Actually, we weren’t even planning to stay the night.”

“You came all the way up here just to stay for a few hours and then leave?” Frodo asked doubtfully, not looking up from his task. Why would they do that unless…? Comprehension dawned and Frodo looked up through his lashes and fixed his cousins with a suspicious glare. They grinned innocently and nodded. “No, absolutely not.”

“Sorry, my dear Frodo, but we’re overruling you,” Merry said. “Besides, you invited us, remember?”

“When did I ever do anything as foolish as that?”

“At your birthday,” Merry answered. “You wrote that lovely story for us. How could you forget? You all but forced us to act the whole thing out.”

“Two friends, on a trip, growing closer together. It was so obvious that was your way of asking us along,” Pippin put in.

“Then you read it wrong,” Frodo said. “That story gave all the reasons why I don’t want you along. As you may recall, that camping trip was a complete disaster.”

“Please, Frodo, have more faith in us than that,” Pippin said. “We’re here to help you and keep you company.”

“I don’t need looking after,” Frodo said, letting his anger surface at last and shine through his eyes. How often was he going to have to repeat that? First Sam and now them. No wonder he always felt like he was being watched. He desperately needed to get away.

“We know you don’t,” Pippin said, quailing slightly under Frodo’s fierce gaze. “But when I asked you when are we going to be invited along on a walking trip, you said ‘maybe next time.’ You can’t deny that.”

“That’s right,” Merry jumped in. He too had trouble asserting himself when Frodo turned on that icy glare, but he was resolved. “You said next time, and this is next time. So here we are and we’re going with you.”

“I said maybe next time and you know perfectly well that wasn’t an open invitation, or you wouldn’t have come here in trickery,” Frodo pointed out. “You’re leaving and you’re doing so now. I don’t have time to look after you.”

“But you don’t need to,” Merry stressed. “We have our gear ready and packed. We took every precaution. We have food, and sleeping rolls and water, and we have cooking gear and tinder. We have everything. We’re not here to look after you Frodo, nor are we here to hinder you. We’re here to join you.”

“The answer is-”

“Tea?”

The cousins looked abruptly over to the doorway, startled out of their confrontation by Sam’s sudden presence. He was holding a tray loaded with three glasses of iced tea, and if any of them had cared to notice, he was gripping the tray rather tightly.

Sam had heard his master’s voice rising in agitation while he was making sandwiches and when he realized what was going on, he had hit upon a sudden idea. It wasn’t proper what he was about to do, and he was nervous about the consequences if his master suspected him even a little. But he had to at least try it. He would be very much relieved to see his master off tonight in the company of his friends, and that made it worth the risk.

He took Merry and Pippin their glasses first, so that he was facing away from Frodo. He gave them what he hoped was a significant look as he handed them their glasses. Then he turned and handed Frodo his own glass.

“Sorry for the interruption,” Sam said, “but I thought Master Pippin and Mr. Merry would like something cool to drink after walking here in such heat.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Merry said, wondering where this was going.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Merry. So, if you don’t mind my asking, what brings you here to Hobbiton?”

“We’re going camping with Frodo,” Pippin answered before Frodo could open his mouth to speak.

Sam’s face lit up with absolute joy and he smiled with relief. “You are!” He turned to his master, who was now looking quite put out. “Why didn’t you just say so, Mr. Frodo? Here I was worriting for naught, thinking as you’d be out there all by your lonesome, and Mr. Merry and Master Pippin going with you all along. How wonderful!”

“But I-” Frodo started to protest, but the look of joy on Sam’s face quelled his protest. This was the happiest and most relaxed he had seen the gardener in weeks and he just couldn’t bring himself to shatter the lad’s spirits. “I suppose I just forgot,” he finally muttered in defeat and didn’t have to look over to see the triumphant smiles on his cousins’ faces.

“You best hurry up with your packing then,” Sam went on. “Luncheon will be ready shortly.” He left then, and he didn’t take a full breath until he was safely back in the kitchen.

Back in his room, Frodo merely shook his head at his cousins, who were celebrating giddily. If he didn’t know Sam any better, he’d almost think this was a conspiracy.
 
 
 

To be continued…