Chapter 2

‘Maybe this won’t be so bad,’ Frodo thought to himself. After all, Merry was nearly of age and was maturing nicely, and he could manage Pippin better than anyone. Looking through their packs, which Frodo had ordered them to bring into the room, he had to admit they had prepared thoroughly for the trip and he couldn’t deny they were a resourceful pair. And he had been promising them for a long time to take them camping. He always enjoyed their company and he would be able to show them more of his homeland than they’ve had opportunity to see so far. And if it was a disaster, well, that would be good cause to deny them such a privilege again in the future.

Frodo set their packs on the floor and returned to preparing his own.

‘This might not be so bad. Please, don’t let this be bad.’  

“Sam, you are a wonder,” Merry said. He and Pippin were helping Sam prepare the last of the food as Frodo finished packing. Merry was in awe of the gardener; he had never seen Frodo cave so quickly on anything before, not once that famous Baggins stubbornness set in. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Pippin nodded in agreement, looking up at Sam with something akin to hero-worship. He had thought they’d have to force Frodo into letting them come along. Either that or they’d have to tag along after him and that would have been disastrous.

“What other talents have you been hiding from us?” Merry asked.

“I only did it acause I don’t want Mr. Frodo going alone,” Sam said with a disapproving scowl. “I’m telling him what I did soon as you come back, assuming he ain’t figure it out on his own by then. You promise you won’t let anything bad happen to him and bring him home on time?”

“Of course, that’s why we’re here,” Merry replied. “But why don’t you come along?”

“Oh no, two uninvited guests are more’n enough for one trip, begging your pardon for saying so,” Sam said. He set the biscuits on the table and took in the spread approvingly. That should be enough food to satisfy everyone. “I’m going to let Mr. Frodo know the food’s ready, and don’t think I won’t be able to tell if you go sneaking any, Master Pippin.”

Pippin paused midway in grabbing a handful of sliced carrots and pouted at Sam’s retreating back. He plopped down in his chair and crossed his arms dejectedly over his chest. “He never lets me eat early,” he complained.

Merry chuckled softly and sat next to Pippin to wait for Frodo. He wasn’t surprised when Pippin refrained from eating, but he was again impressed by Sam. The gardener was the only one who could keep the impetuous Took from indulging his stomach nonstop.

And how was that exactly? What power did Sam posses to make such an impossibility, well, possible? Why would Pippin listen to Sam, who strictly-speaking had not even told him he couldn’t eat, when he would barely even listen to his own mother? There must be a story there somewhere, and Merry realized that he didn’t know what it was. Why didn’t he know the story?

Merry eyed Pippin contemplatively. He was trying to remember the very first time he had seen Sam subdue Pippin’s appetite when his cousin finally noticed his gaze.

“What?” Pippin asked, innocent for once.

Before Merry could form his question, Sam returned with Frodo just behind him. Within moments, they were all seated around the table, tucking in the delicious food Sam had prepared. Merry and Pippin relaxed to see that Frodo had warmed to the idea of having them along. At least he wasn’t glaring at them anymore, which was always a good sign.

After luncheon, Sam returned to the gardens. Merry and Pippin helped Frodo clean the kitchen, then started some meat and potatoes broiling for dinner. When the kitchen was in order, they went into the parlor to pour over Frodo’s maps and discuss their trip.

The southernmost edge of Bindbole Wood was just over ten miles from Bag End in a straight line over the hills. Frodo, however, planned to follow The Water west for a few miles and cut across the fields at the foot of the hills. It was a slightly longer route, but he hoped that without the constant climbing they could reach the forest in the same amount of time. Once they were in the woods, they would hike another half-mile to a clearing where they could camp and rest during the day.

“And after day is over?” Pippin asked.

“There’s a trail we can follow and explore through the heart of the forest,” Frodo explained. “There are also a couple of dells just off the trial that Bilbo showed me once. We can camp in one of those clearings the second night. Then we’ll come home.”

“That’s a short trip,” Pippin commented, to which Frodo and Merry said nothing.  

Merry pointed at the larger map that hung in the entrance hall. This map showed the entire Shire and had marked on it many hiking trails in red ink. “There’s Bindbole.”

“And look, it’s marked with a trail!” Pippin said. “Bilbo must have liked going there. What do you think it will be like, Merry?”

“Well, they say it’s dangerous and haunted, and sometimes, hobbits go in to never be seen or heard from again,” Merry intoned dramatically.

“Liar.”

Frodo slipped out the back door, shutting his cousins’ chatter inside. He strolled casually through the kitchen garden and turned right toward the back of the property. He was in no real hurry to find Sam, as this was likely the last few moments of peace he would have in the coming days, but he did need to speak with his gardener. The more he thought about it, the more he suspected he had been tricked into inviting his cousins. Sam had answered the door after all and let them in; he would have noticed they were carrying travel packs. Well, Frodo wasn’t too old to play a trick of his own. And really, why should Sam get off scot-free?

“Sam?” he said after a few minutes wandering. Where was he? “Sam?”

“I’m here, Mr. Frodo,” Sam answered from the tool shed.

“What are you doing back here?” Frodo asked, walking up to find his gardener scrutinizing his various tools.

“Trying to remember where I put that wee hand spade,” Sam answered. “I know I threw it in here somewhere.”

“Threw? That doesn’t sound like the proper way to handle your tools, Sam,” Frodo chided teasingly.

“I know,” Sam said regrettably, “but I was in a hurry and not thinking. Now I can’t find it for the life of me. I thought it landed here.” Sam squatted down and looked under the workbench and in between the bench and wall.

“Look for it later, lad,” Frodo said. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

Sam looked up, a hint of surprise on his face. He stood up and nodded. “Of course sir. What do you need?”

“I want you to come with us, Sam,” Frodo said. “You’ve been wanting to come along anyhow and now that my cousins are here, well… Please, Sam, don’t doom me to a camping trip alone with them. I need at least one other level-headed person in the group.”

“But Mr. Frodo, I thought this was just a simple hike that couldn’t possibly go wrong,” Sam said, teasing now also.

“It was, until the Terrible Twosome arrived. Anything’s possible where they’re involved.”

Sam chuckled knowingly. He knew only too well of what those two were capable. “I’ll go ask me Gaffer then. I’m sure he’ll find heart to spare me for a couple of days for your sake.”

“Then I’ll ready a pack for you,” Frodo said with obvious relief. “Now go ask your father and make it official, then take the rest of the day off. You’ll need the rest, believe me.”

“Yes sir,” Sam said. “I’ll just put everything away and clean up before I leave then.”

“Thank you lad. Be back by dusk,” Frodo said and went back inside, feeling slightly better about this sudden change in events. At least he wouldn’t have to be the only one to monitor his cousins and Sam’s presence would at least keep Pippin from hoarding the food.  

Gaffer Gamgee was in the middle of his ale-brewing when he heard the front door open and close. He frowned down at his piles of hops. Marigold had gone into town an hour earlier and couldn’t possibly be back yet, unless something had happened. He was just about to get up and step into the kitchen when Sam found him.

“Afternoon, Gaffer,” Sam said casually, though his expression was slightly guarded.

“Afternoon, Sam,” Gaffer greeted in return and settled back down in his chair. He eyed his son curiously. “What’re you doing down here, in the middle of a workday as it is?” he asked. It wasn’t entirely unheard of that Mr. Baggins would give Sam an afternoon off during the slower parts of the seasons, but summer was always a busy time.

Sam remained sheltered in the doorway to the little pantry that the Gaffer converted to his brewery during the summer months and answered as casually as he could manage. “Mr. Frodo’s cousins showed up out of the Blue today. They’re going with him on his walking trip and Mr. Frodo wants me to go along and help keep after them. He told me to rest up as he’s leaving at sundown to avoid the heat.”

“Seems to me he could avoid the heat better by keeping himself at home,” Gaffer mused to himself, and Sam gave a small half-smile. “How long is this hike and where’s he planning on taking you?”

“It’s only for a few days,” Sam answered. He hesitated for the briefest of moments then continued, “We’re going to Bindbole.”

Gaffer grunted, the meaning of which Sam could not quite decipher. Gaffer returned to his measuring and pouring, and it was some time before he answered. “You best be careful then and don’t go a making a nuisance of yourself. Go get some rest then if that’s what Mr. Baggins is wanting you to do.”

“Yes sir,” Sam said and excused himself to his room. He hadn’t been entirely certain his father would approve of the plan, and he was relieved it went over so well. There had been a time not too long ago when Gaffer would have been firmly against Sam spending casual time with his master, but once Gaffer realized he was fighting a losing battle, he had relented and had not raised another objection since. Still, he could always change his mind and that was one of Sam’s worst fears.

Sam reached his room and cocooned himself inside. He spread out face down on his bed and hid his face in his pillow, more for the softness of it than an actual need to block out any light, as there was no window in his room. He doubted he would get any actual sleep, but he would rest his eyes for a few hours all the same.  

“Is it really haunted?” Pippin was saying when Frodo came back to the parlor.

Frodo had been preparing Sam’s pack and had just finished. Merry and Pippin had at some point returned to the parlor and Merry was once again studying the smaller maps spread out on the table. He was scrutinizing every last inch of them, as if he were trying to burn the images into his mind. Pippin fidgeted about the room, tinkering with the various knick-knacks and keepsakes, with a mixture of boredom and nervousness.

“Of course it is,” Merry answered his young cousin casually, not looking up from the maps. “I keep telling you it is, don’t I?”

“But those are all just old tall tales,” Pippin said. “They’re not really true, are they?”

“They have to come from somewhere, don’t they?” Merry said logically. He ran his finger along one of the trails shown on the map.

“Maybe, but some of it must be made up,” Pippin continued. “Such as the ghosts and such. I mean, folk don’t really just disappear.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So you were joking before, right?”

“Absolutely, you’ve caught me red-handed. I was joking.”

“Were you really?”

Frodo left his cousins to amuse themselves and went to the kitchen to prepare tea and check on supper. Despite his cousins’ endless teasing, Frodo was a good cook and knew his way around the kitchen. He may not be as easily efficient and confident as Sam, but his cousins really couldn’t – and didn’t – complain about his culinary skills.

He kept himself busy with the food, trying to keep his doubts from creeping back into his consciousness. He tried to ignore the fact that Merry was just barely out of his tweens and still far too interested in mischief. He tried to ignore the fact that Pippin was just entering his tweens and was far too impulsive. He focused instead on Merry’s practicality and Pippin’s lightheartedness and how those things could be assets on their trip.

Frodo sighed and slumped down on a chair. Who was he fooling? This was going to be a disaster.
 
 
 

To be continued…